Page 6

Professionally, my brain insisted.
“Mr. Rao.” I extended my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I wondered if he had recognized me. We had met in person only once, and for a few minutes. But the look in his eyes and his stunned body language seemed to answer that for me. Mercifully, he’d chosen the same approach as me. Ignore the acquaintance. Avoid the humiliation.
“Ms. Bhatia, thank you for meeting me at such short notice.”
“Please,” I said, inviting him to take a seat. With his tall legs, he perched on the barstool effortlessly. “We can sit in the lounge if you prefer. But I was hoping for a quick meeting.”
“This is fine,” he said with a smile that put slight dimples in his cheeks.
“What will you have?”
“Whatever you are having,” he said.
Ingratiating himself to me, I thought, because I had a glass of red wine before me and he definitely didn’t look like a wine person. But I played along.
“One more, please,” I told the bartender.
I didn’t usually drink red wine unless I was in a meeting where I had to pretend to drink. This was one such occasion. We sat in silence until the bartender placed a glass before him, its crystal dispersing a gorgeous tint of red on the counter. I watched as his strong hand advanced toward the glass and lifted it.
“I hope your flight was good,” he said after a sip.
“It was uneventful. Thank you.”
“I don’t suppose this is your first visit to New York?”
“No, my close friend moved here a few years ago, and I’ve visited her a couple of times.”
“It’s great that you’ll have a friend in the city while you’re here,” he said.
“Actually, she doesn’t live in the city anymore.” I don’t know if it was the kindness in his voice or a desperate need to fill the silence, but I shared with him more than I normally would. “They have a penthouse here, but they live upstate most of the time.”
He gave a small nod, and soon enough, the dreaded silence engulfed us.
I threw a quick glance at him. His eyes met mine, and a strange mix of feelings coursed through me. Dread, that he had figured out who I was. Shame, that he knew what I had been through publicly. Fear, that he might use it to leverage his negotiation. Anger, that the stain on my personal life threatened to invade my professional identity. And…a smidgen of sympathy, that perhaps he’d had his heart stomped on mercilessly too.
What would it be? Embarrass me, humiliate me, intimidate me? Under normal circumstances, it wasn’t easy to get under my skin, but he was Tara’s ex, and that was enough to ruin both my poise and my grit. I waited, peering into his face, waiting for him to capitalize on any of these several openings available to him.
To my surprise, he didn’t. He cleared his throat and opted instead for the universal subject of small talk. “So, how are you holding up to the weather here?”
A palpable wave of relief washed over me. My body relaxed. My grip on the stem of the glass loosened. I hadn’t realized I had been strangling it between my fingers.
“It’s so cold here already!” I said, with a slight, grateful laughter.
“Yes. How’s the weather in Dallas?”
“It’s nice. It’s getting colder, so some of us are freaking out. Bring out the puffy jackets!”
He chuckled, but it was a gentle sound. Suave, sophisticated, classy.
“I hope you brought all your puffy jackets with you because if you think it’s cold now, just wait until it snows.”
As I looked at him, my eyes met his warm gaze, and a strange feeling ran down my spine. I looked away to my wine glass promptly. “Definitely not looking forward to that. I would’ve postponed the visit if it wasn’t important.”
“Important like?” he inquired.
Peering into his eyes, I wondered if he knew why I was in New York, miles away from Dallas, at this particular time.