by Zee Monodee
Logan nodded, though his thoughts had drifted to another idea.
God only knew how this kid’s mother put up with all she had on her plate.
***
Neha puttered happily in her kitchen as she went around the room pulling items from the cupboards. When had she last prepared a good meal for her family? All the food they’d had in the past two weeks had been reheated casseroles or some quick stir-fry or pasta, wolfed down in the sitting room, in front of the television, or at the kitchen counter. She’d certainly been too busy and too tired to make sure a real family dinner took place at the dining table, as she had enforced in the past.
She’d thus decided to make some fried rice and other Chinese dishes, all the children’s favourites. She was busy at the chopping board near the sink when the back door opened with a slam against the wall, letting Kunal in.
“Hi, Mum,” he said. “You’re in early.”
“Hey, sweetie.” She turned to face him with a smile. “Guess what? I’ll be at home earlier on Saturdays now.”
Kunal walked up to her, grabbing a glass on his way, and filled it from the tap.
“How come?” he asked and drained the water down.
“They confirmed me at the station today. My new schedule allows me a lot more flexibility.”
“Really? That’s so cool.” He placed the glass down, reached out to hug her, and lifted her feet off the ground. He twirled her around in a full circle before putting her back down again.
Neha laughed. Amazing how easily Kunal could lift her. She wasn’t thin or light by any standard. The boy appeared lean and lanky, but everyone underestimated the sheer strength of him.
She sighed as she viewed her eldest son. He towered above her by quite a few inches. A little while ago, he’d been her little boy. When, and how, had he grown up to become this young man? She let her gaze roam over his handsome features. They had yet to lose their boyish appeal, but the outline of the man he’d be sat there already in the sharp cheekbones, wide forehead, and strong jaw. His eyes had a pronounced hint of green in their brown depths, maturity darkening them, chasing away the sparkle of innocence.
Neha swallowed painfully as the breath left her. Kunal would look very much like Rahul.
Her son must have sensed the sudden change in her spirits. “You okay, Mum?”
“I’m fine.”
The words came out strangled and low, not convincing at all. She couldn’t afford to let him know how much he reminded her of the young man she had seen and fallen for two decades earlier.
There it was, right in her face. She could hide Rahul’s pictures all she wanted, but she, and everyone else, would have a living reminder in front of their eyes every time they saw Kunal. The air grew thick, and she remained powerless to stop the memories from flooding her.
Oh, yes, she had been hopelessly smitten with her husband, and the day her eyes had finally opened to the truth of their marriage—an arranged match where she had been nothing more than an ‘oh-so-proper’ addition to his illustrious family—it had hurt. He’d needed a broodmare, not a wife, not even a partner who’d be an equal in their relationship.
Her gaze came to rest on the straight, jet-black hair brushing her son’s shoulders. Boys with such long hair. Next, she’d hear he wanted a tattoo.
Unbidden, her mind went to the indelible drawing on another man’s skin—she shook out of it.
“Kunal, get a haircut, will you?”
The gentle, gasped request had defused the tension in the room.
He laughed, a deep chuckle sounding nothing like a child’s amusement. She had to face it—her boy was becoming a man.
She ran a hand softly over the side of his face, giving him a wistful smile. Neha stifled a laugh when she had to go on tiptoe to touch him this way. She patted his cheek. “So, can I count on you to lend me a hand around here?”
“Sure. Where are the others?”
“Suzanne’s gone to do her homework at a friend’s place, and Rishi, as usual, is in his room with a book. Pull him away at the peril of your life.”
Kunal groaned. “You sure that kid wasn’t switched at birth or something?”
“No. I saw him come out of me. Like you and Suzanne, too.”
“Euw, Mum. Gross.”
She handed him the metallic can opener and gestured towards the cans of mushrooms, baby corn, and bamboo shoots on the kitchen table. “Open those for me, will you?”
He walked over to the table and got on with the task.
“I gather you were at the gym again,” she said wearily.
Her nagging would be water over a duck’s back. Kunal lived and breathed for his kickboxing practice. At least, the boy had had the presence of mind to shower before he came home. She hated the stink of sweat in her house.
He hollered with laughter and walked over to wrap her in his arms from behind. “Don’t sound so worried, Mum. I know what I’m doing.”
He pulled away.
“Sure you do.” How could he be so certain he wished to hit others and be hit in the process? Was that how youngsters got their highs nowadays? Still, it could be worse, right? He didn’t do drugs or chase after girls ... Yet, she reminded herself on the last part. A shiver ran through her.
Kunal dropped the can opener with a heavy clang on the table, startling her.
“You’ll never guess who I met today,” he said, excitement thrumming in his every word.
“Who?”
“Logan Warrington.”
Neha froze, the knife in her hand falling on the chopping board and missing her finger by a scant inch. Had she heard him right?
“Who?” she asked again in a whisper as she turned to face her son.
Drat, no. The man already darkened a good part of her life with his damning presence. He couldn’t shadow her children’s lives, too, innit? And if he hurt Kunal ... Though why would he do that? Logan wasn’t a monster. Or was he?
Kunal shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“Logan Warrington. One of the biggest boxing champions of our times.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe it when he turned up at the gym today, and he came to talk to me. Isn’t this cool or what?”
Icy sounds more like it. She fought to quell the panic rising in her. What did Logan have to do with her son?
“Why did he come?”
Kunal pulled a chair and sat down. “Figures he’s good friends with Marc, the gym’s owner. Marc’s told him about me, and sounds like Logan’s decided he’ll coach me on some stuff.”
Getting worse and worse. Her life was tangled enough with Logan’s without him being a mentor to her son, as well.
Yet, given the admiration Kunal felt for him, she couldn’t tell him to steer clear of the man. And what would she tell him? That Logan made his mum hot and flustered and that’s why she wanted to put as much distance as and where possible between the two of them? Yeah, right! A heated blush stole across her face, making her cheeks burn.
Turning away, she panted for breath. “What does he want with you?”
Kunal left his seat to come stand by her side.
“Nothing, Mum. He just wants to help me. He says I’ve got potential, and I believe him.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Come on, Mum. The guy’s a legend, one of the best hybrid boxers in all sporting history. We have so much in common. He started his career early, too, at seventeen. Where’s the harm if he wants to help me fulfil my dreams?”
Dreams. Kunal’s dream was to be a Muay Thai world champion after reaching the world podium in kickboxing, too. She couldn’t pull the rug from under his feet. She was only his mother; it didn’t give her the right to tell him to abandon his hopes. “You just be careful, all right?”
“I will,” he said with a smile.
Kunal seemed to know a lot about Logan. It wouldn’t hurt to quiz him a little about her surly boss. The same one who had given her the surprise of her life earlier with the sudden peek at a possible softer side of his.
“So,
he was good, then?”
Her son gaped at her with wide eyes. “Good? More like amazing. He took his pick of the best of almost every boxer archetype, combining the raw power and solid strength of a brawler, yet having the deftness and combinations of agility and ferocity of an in-fighter.”
Neha laughed. Why didn’t she find it strange Logan had been known as a brawler? “He is, indeed.”
Kunal frowned, his gaze intense on her. “I thought you knew nothing of boxing.”
“You’re right.” She took a deep breath. The time had arrived to come clean about her apprehensions. “Does he know who you are?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Why?”
“Did he ask you about me?”
“What do you mean? You know him?”
She peered up into his face. “Yes. He’s my boss.”
Kunal’s eyes grew big. “You gotta be kidding me.”
She shook her head, as much in reply to him as in disbelief. Kunal hadn’t been listening to anything she’d said about work in the past two weeks. She must’ve mentioned Logan’s name at least a half-dozen times. Then again, none of her children paid her any heed; never had since they’d each turned into tweens. They must’ve inherited the trait from their father, who’d been as clueless about her as she’d been in tune with his every like and dislike.
But just as well Kunal hadn’t picked up on that titbit. What would she have done had her son let him in on how the three of them would be acquainted in the grand scheme of things?
“Cool. Wait ’til I tell him next time I see him.”
She placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t.”
His forehead creased in a puzzled frown. “Why not?”
“Because, it’s better if he ignores the connection between us. At the gym, he’s your mentor. It has nothing to do with me or who I am to him.” She paused. “Keep it this way. It’s better.”
Kunal stared at her for long seconds. “If this is what you wish.”
She reached up and gently lifted his chin. “Let him respect you for your own worth. That’s better than anything in the world.”
He nodded.
She smiled back, before nodding towards the hall and the stairs. “Go grab a real shower with some soap and get changed. You’re starting to stink again.”
He sprinted out of the kitchen and disappeared on the sweeping staircase in the entry hall across from the kitchen.
Turning around, she settled her hands flat on the counter and closed her eyes in weariness.
Blast it. Why this? And why now? Did she have no escape from Logan Warrington? He’d been a presence only in her professional life so far.
What would she do if he ever crossed the threshold into the other, personal, parts of her existence?
She grabbed her cell phone and scrolled to find Marc’s number. The minute he answered, she dived in.
“What are you doing letting Logan Warrington close to my son?” she rattled in high-pitched Creole.
“Easy, Madame Neha. I was about to call you later today to let you know about this.”
“Goodness, Marc. Why?”
“Hey, calm down. He’s world-renowned athlete, looked up to by all his peers. If there’s someone who can steer Kunal in the proper direction, it’s him.”
She sighed. Nothing but the truth, so how did she voice out her apprehensions? “I swear, if he does one thing to hurt Kunal—”
“Bon dié, o! Madame Neha, he is not a pervert.”
“I didn’t mean that.” Her thoughts had never run in that direction—she knew him, and he’d proven himself a solid and trustworthy man. “Just … make sure nothing untoward comes from this. I trust you to keep an eye on my son, and no one else.”
“Don’t worry. I’m still his main coach. Logan is more like a mentor. Tell you what. Why don’t you come down and meet him? This should put your worries to rest. Anytime, your call.”
That wouldn’t be necessary, because she already knew the man.
“I trust you, Marc.” Neha sighed. “I’m sorry I jumped at your throat. It just took me by surprise.”
“Well, you have nothing to worry about. With Logan, Kunal’s in good hands.”
“Right. Bye, Marc.”
She cut the call, and even the smell of rice burning in the cooker didn’t make her jump up and rush to clear the mess.
How would she ever get out from between this rock and the hard place she’d been in already? Logan disliked her guts, and he loved to jump to erroneous conclusions. She’d have to keep this knowledge from him as long as possible so he learned to know her son for the brilliant kid he was and not the progeny of a woman he loathed.
Chapter Four
“Can you come by my office? Right away.”
“Sure,” Neha started, but the beep of the cut line already buzzed in her ear.
She winced, the echo of Logan’s voice still rattling in her mind. He had all but barked the request out. Then again, not uncommon for Logan to yell at every given turn. Drat, what a hothead. In the past few months they’d been working together, she hadn’t known her boss to be anything but tempestuous and cutting.
Her thoughts went to something at the forefront of her mind lately. For a few weeks, Suzanne had been hooked on reruns of Hell’s Kitchen, the reality TV show where British chef Gordon Ramsay coached a kitchen of young hopeful cooks. The man’s barking and his searing comments had made her think of a living devil, and then, the next thought had been about how her own boss fitted the description, too. Not only was he an absolute terror, Logan also inspired the very fascination a charismatic and powerful devil would arouse in a mortal woman. Making her want ... Making her burn.
She shook her head as the image sprang into her mind. She had no right and no business thinking of him under such light.
“Boss called?” her assistant, Ned, asked with a headshake.
“How’d you guess?” she mumbled. “I better go see what he wants.”
She walked out of the newsroom and towards Logan’s office. A muffled string of words came when she knocked on the glass panel, and she took them as an invitation to come in. Pulling the door open, she stepped into the dark, heavily masculine setting of the station manager’s lair.
The elusive scent of Logan’s aftershave—a powerful, spicy, and musky-warm fragrance—drifted to her, and yet, the subtle whiff shot to her head like a quick rush. The emotion almost reeled her in, and she parted her lips to draw in a breath. At the same moment, he glimpsed up and stopped his steady drumming on the keyboard. With a nod, he indicated towards the chair across his desk.
Neha took a few quickened steps until she reached the heavy wood and steel seat, dropping her weight in it. Logan fixed his dark gaze on her. A hot blush crept into her cheeks. Why did he have to stare at her so intently? What wrong did he suppose she had done this time?
In all these weeks, her track record has been spotless. What could be the problem?
He lowered his lashes after a long moment and pushed a stapled sheaf of papers her way.
“Take a look at this,” he said in a quiet, calm tone.
A chill ran up her spine. Why did he have to sound so cold? She sat there frozen, unable to move a muscle.
Snap out of it.
Mustering her courage, she pulled the papers across the large expanse of the glass-topped desk. The quick perusal however left her more confused. Brief lines of text lay interspersed with figures and diagrams, some resembling the round pie charts she often encountered in Rishi’s maths homework. Try as she might, none of it made sense to her.
She risked a glance across the desk. “What is this?”
Logan drew forward, his thick, tanned forearms, naked because of his rolled-back sleeves, resting flat on the desk as he peered right back into her face.
“This,” he said as he tapped a finger on the documents, “is the result of the trimestral media watch survey. Check the pie chart on the first page. Our station is represented in light, block grey.”
&nb
sp; Neha skimmed back to the first page of the report, locating the diagram he spoke about. Her jaw dropped open when she made sense of the figures. The station occupied a massive twenty-one percent of overall market share.
She parted her lips, but no sound escaped her, and she only glanced back up at him, shaking her head to reassure herself she wasn’t hallucinating.
“Stunned?” he asked.
She could only nod.
“Check page two.”
She flipped the document. This time, the pie chart came with a table giving the listings in ascending order. Global Village Media Studios again topped the list.
“Have you seen under which section this listing is?” Logan asked.
A small yelp escaped her when she saw they ranked first under the news coverage category. AKA her department’s job.
The realization came as a shock, and an oppressive blanket shrouded her, making her breathing laboured and raspy. Forgetting where she sat, Neha closed her eyes and forced herself to concentrate on her intake of air. After counting to ten, she drew in a steady breath and exhaled.
“Are you okay?”
She popped her eyes open, and a wave of panic hit her. She hated for anyone to see her battling with her asthma. Somehow, it made her feel inadequate. What would she be able to accomplish if she didn’t even have control over something as elementary as her need for air? In the past, anything could trigger it, but as the years had passed, only strong emotion could now get the better of her.
“I’ll be fine,” she said in a croak. “It’s just … the shock, I guess.”
Logan watched her for long seconds, then he settled back into his executive chair. A small smile played on his lips, and Neha forgot her near-attack as she sat there riveted by the sight. The movement, though practically imperceptible, nevertheless sent a relaxed stance onto his features, easing the tautness of his jaw and smoothing the grooves running from the edges of his nose down the sides of his mouth.
The smile took years off his face, and Neha reckoned she was seeing the man inside, the one he hid so carefully behind his brash and commanding exterior.