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“I told him I don’t date people I do business with, and that’s when he changed his tune. He said he was looking for a space, and I quote,similar to what Sujit wants for his new project.”
Sujit sat quietly in thought for a moment, and when he finally broke his silence, his voice was tentative. “And did you confirm it?”
I scoffed. “What do you think? I wasn’t born yesterday, Sujit. I’ve been in the business world for almost a decade. I know what is what when I see it. How well do you know him?”
“Well enough,” he said with a determined face.
“Is he dangerous?”
“Stalker and killer-type dangerous? No,” Sujit said and confirmed the rest for me. Manoj was dangerous in other ways. Nefarious ways.
“I can’t imagine how you and he could be friends.”
“We aren’t anymore, but it’s a long story. Some other time, sweet girl.” This time, the epithet didn’t carry its usual warmth. This time, it sounded like a command. “Tell me what else he has been asking you.”
This avatar of Sujit was one I hadn’t seen before. That of a fierce, protective warrior. A determined, powerful man who knew what destruction he could rain down.
“He hasn’t been talking about business, for sure. He seemed more interested in my personal life. Asked me a lot of intrusive questions in his beguiling, charming way. It creeped me out enough to make the hair on my neck stand up. After I’d deflected every one of his questions, he asked me out again. It’s like his obsessed with me,” I said, and Sujit opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind.
“Don’t worry about him,” he said cryptically.
SUJIT
Waking up early the next morning, I watched the rising sun cast a gentle glow on the darkened waters. As I stood drinking in the beauty of the dawn, I wondered why I had been so secretive about my association with Aarti. Was it for her benefit alone? To save her the embarrassment of being associated with Tara’s ex? Or was there a part of me that was worried about it too?
Aarti had become a big part of my life these past weeks, yet I had diligently concealed our association. On the several occasions that she had been in my office, I had always addressed her as Ms. Bhatia, especially when Devi was around. Was I worried that she would tell Cathy if she knew?
This was the reason I didn’t take vacations. When my mind wasn’t focused on work, it tended to meander in unwarranted directions. Instead of focusing on the what-ifs and the maybes, I should be working to hold on to the one thing that I was absolutely certain of. I liked Aarti. She made me happy. Who else would care enough and have the courage to steal me away from the world to give me a day at the beach? No one but Aarti.
I pushed the large glass French windows open, and a gentle breeze drifted in. St. Martin was windy on its best day, but rightnow, an easy gust flirted with the calm sea. Inside, the sheer white linen curtains blew in gentle notes.
“Looks like a lovely mornin’.” Aarti emerged from her room, glided toward the breakfast table, and began pouring herself some coffee.
“This has been one of the most happy and carefree days I’ve had in a very long time.”
I walked over to the table where she had settled herself in a chair.
“Coffee?” she asked.
When I nodded, she poured me a cup and handed it to me across the table.
I took the cup with my left and held out my right hand for her.
She gave me a look of surprise before placing her soft, warm hand in mine.
“I know I can’t ever thank you enough for this weekend, but this can be a good start,” I said and placed a gentle kiss on her hand.
She whipped out a smile as warm as the Caribbean sun.
After breakfast, we headed out to the beach. In a brash decision, I relinquished my rash guard, putting my gym-toned torso on display as we took a long, leisurely stroll on the soft sand along the beach. Aarti walked near the water, the rhythmic waves lapping at her feet. She was a sight to behold. She wore a blue one-piece swimsuit with a floral front open coverup that flapped against the breeze. Kimono coverups, I think they’re called. An oversized hat shielded her face from the gentle sun.
I could’ve walked more, if only to hear her talk. She told me about her favorite time at Sanibel Island in Florida picking shells that she later painted and used to decorate her room. It was before they moved to the large house, she told me. When they moved, the interior designers dictated how best to set upher room. After that, they seldom took domestic vacations. It was either Europe or some expensive island in a remote part of the world. It sounded to me like she’d spent a long time doing what was expected of her rather than what made her happy. The longing to make her happy resurged with force within me. If only I got a chance.
“Let’s walk back. I’m tired,” she said, and we returned to the chaise loungers that had been set up for us. I lay in the heat of the sun, soaking up her warmth, when she said, “You better enjoy the hammock before I grab it.”
Begrudgingly, I willed myself off the recliner.
“Do you want the umbrella on you?” I asked. When she nodded, I readjusted the large canopy to shade her body, then silently headed toward the water, where a hammock rocked on its stand.