Kemora Archives 3: One Heck Of An Assistant
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Sikandar Dempsey is a billionaire playboy with no time for love, thriving on power, wealth, and fleeting connections. His life is perfectly chaotic, managed by his sharp-tongued assistant, Sohni Mehr, who also happens to be his best friend's little sister. Sikandar keeps his growing attraction to her buried—until one heated night changes everything. Boundaries are crossed, and their worlds spin out of control. Now, as their passion ignites, they must face the consequences of their choices. In a story about second chances and redemption, Sikandar and Sohni must decide if love is worth the risk.
CHAPTER 1
SOHNI
“Honestly, believe me when I say this, Sera.” I offer her my napkin, which she immediately uses to blow her nose. There are extra tissues in my purse too, just in case. “It’s not you. It’s him.”
And I want to kill him.
“Stop saying that.” Her shoulders shake and more tears roll down her cheeks. “Stop trying to make me feel better.”
She wipes her eyes in vain, dipping her chin to her chest for a second to recollect herself. When she looks back up, a sad smile is playing on her lips.
“I thought what we had was special. Thought I could change him, break his streak for serial dating and—” her voice breaks and she lets a weak shake of her head hang between us.
“Sikandar is not boyfriend material, Sera.” My voice is soft. “I should know. I work for him.”
I should also know not to fraternize with the girls he sends me to break up with on his behalf because he’s my boss and somehow got me to agree that this is also part of my job as his personal assistant.
“I’m so sorry and I hate that he hurt you.” The words just keep tumbling out because looking at Sera’s watery eyes, something tugs at my heart fiercely and a burn shoots down from the roots of my hair to the soles of my feet. “Why did you fall for him anyway? You knew his reputation.”
Sera gives a short, tear-stricken laugh. “It’s the bad boy charm. Fooling yourself into thinking you’ll be the one to change him. But you never are.” Her eyes spill again as they rest on the rectangular box I’d slid to her side earlier. “I didn’t want his money. I just wanted him.”
“I know, Sera, you’re one of the good ones.” Wait till I get my hands around his neck the next time he asks me to straighten his stupid tie! “But I picked out this bracelet for you. I know garnet is your birthstone and you like to wear it.”
Usually, Sikandar’s conquests aren’t so sentimental. They just palm the parting gift, spew out a few choice words for me to relay to him with great honor and satisfaction, and storm away.
But Sera is different. She always was, and I really wish a nice girl like her hadn’t gotten herself entangled with my manwhore of a boss. Or that he could’ve seen the goldmine he’d struck, realized his good luck, and mended his womanizing ways.
Sadly, a garnet and gold bracelet is all there is for me to show her how devastated I feel about the entire situation.
“I can’t take it, Sohni.” Her eyes are soft and red, and it breaks my heart when she takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. “I understood what I was walking into. He told me he doesn’t do relationships, and that this was just sex. It was my fault to get my feelings involved.” She gently pushes the jewelry box at me and smiles. “Thank you for being so kind. I always liked you.”
We both stand up, and I don’t pull away when she hugs me, but I do take a few minutes to rub my face in my hands and rethink my life while the waiter brings out the check for water.
Yep, no such thing as free water at this pricey joint. Sikandar’s rule is to always break up at a nice restaurant to minimize the blow.
Asshole.
I gather the unwanted velvet box, leave a hefty tip, and march out of the ice-cold restaurant with my cell glued to my ear. Holly should be at the office by now with everything ready for Sikandar’s meeting, but I just want to get a rundown out of habit.
It’s been a little over a year since my former boss, Taj Dempsey of TD Constructions, handed me over to his son so I could help the scion of Kemora’s oldest and largest construction empire settle into his new role as the company’s chief operating officer and be ready to take over the executive reins from his father as and when the mogul decides to retire.
I still curse the day I said yes to this arrangement.
Being Mr. Dempsey’s PA was one thing. It was my first job fresh out of college, and I loved every second of it. The man knew to respect women, be professional and compassionate while delegating authority, and teaching me the ropes and trusting me to manage his entire day.
Plus, there were no heartbroken girlfriends I had to deal with.
Taj Dempsey is notoriously monogamous and has been happily married for the past thirty-five years to the same woman—Sikandar’s mom. Where the couple went wrong in raising their only child is a mystery to me. But then, as my brother Asher always says— the guy was born an asshole; no one can be blamed for that.
“Lass!” Holly’s thick faux Irish accent scatters my thoughts. “Where are you? Where’s the boss?”
“I’ve been with one of Sikandar’s…wait, what do you mean where’s the boss?” Something hard sinks into the pit of my stomach. “He’s not there? The meeting starts in…” I struggle to check the phone clock, but Holly’s voice confirms my fear.
“In less than an hour!” She sounds as exasperated as I feel. “He came in this morning and then went down to get some coffee and hasn’t been back since. He’s not even answering his phone.”
Shit.
“How long ago was this?”
“Two hours.”
Double shit.
“Okay, is Ali there?” She affirms that he is, which makes my heart beat a little better knowing that at least the CFO and the Project Manager are punctual even if the COO is MIA. “Good, so you guys get things rolling and I’ll go look for him and bring him in.”
“Make it in time, Sohni,” Holly cautions. “Kokyo account is our biggest yet.”
“I know.” I’m already reversing out of the parking lot. “I’m going to call him now.”
The minute Holly disconnects, I punch Sikandar’s number and yet again remind myself to sync my phone to my Mazda. The bell rings but no one picks up. I abort that mission and look up his location instead. Good thing I had it sorted out the second week of losing him to a gorgeous distraction that compelled him to bail out of a company dinner early and left me looking like an inept secretary who couldn’t produce her boss on demand.
The red dot on the map marking his location sends another wave of anxiety curling up my spine.
He’s home?
It’s not even noon yet and too early even for him to avoid his job like the plague he considers it to be. Maybe he got sick or something. I speed, making the distance of fifteen minutes in five and coming to a screeching halt right outside the gleaming high-rise that houses his penthouse in this upscale neighborhood.
“Morning, Miss Mehr.” Ricky tips off his cap, beaming at me in his usual manner and spreading his palm for the car keys. “How comfortably do you want it parked? Are we stopping traffic today?”
“I’ll be running back out in a second, Ricky!” I yell over my shoulder as I race inside, jumping over people, waving an urgent hello to Marina at the front desk, and sliding inside the elevator right before the doors shut.
“Smooth.” Alexander, Sikandar’s blond and handsome venture capitalist neighbor, smiles at me. “A bit early to collect him, isn’t it?”
“And why are you home at this hour?” I ask, smoothing my chignon and my skirt and checking the white sparkle of my nosepin in the mirrored wall when his words hit me. “How do you know he’s home?”
There are times when I come in to pick up something for Sikandar while he’s at the office. Alexander knows this because it was at one such point three months ago when he took ten minutes of my precious time to ask me out.
“Well, first…” Alexander holds up his index finger, “…I’m working from home this week and Naomi is coming over for lunch.”
He lifts the grocery bags he’s been holding, making me feel silly for not noticing before. My stomach grumbles at the thought of Alexander’s cooking, which the entire building knows is epic.
This homemade lunch could’ve been for me.
I want to cry for the lost opportunity because Naomi happened after I’d gently turned him down that evening.
“And two…” he lifts a second finger, “…I saw him when I was heading out to the store.”
My insides twist. “How’d he look?” Please, God, don’t let him be sick. This is one heck of an important day today! “Did he look okay? Sickly green or healthy tan?”
The elevator doors slide open before Alexander can answer, and since this is our floor, I dash out with a quick goodbye, not waiting for his reply. I have a key to Sikandar’s penthouse that I have no qualms about using, especially now that he might be sick in bed and may not want to pad all the way from his room to answer the door.
“Sikandar?” I try not to shout and startle him as I cross the foyer and an elegant black-and-white layout encasing a modern kitchen, living and dining spaces, and make my way up the stairs to his bedroom. “You okay?”
It’s only after I’ve pushed open his door and heard a feminine shriek hit my eardrums with all the ferocity of a train wreck that my brain jostles me to first gawk, then turn around with my hands over my eyes and prepare to chastise a very naked Sikandar trying to pull his pants up behind me.
As soon as the words come to me, of course.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He sounds annoyed, and the rustle of fabric and a zipper indicates that thankfully, he might be decent. “Turn the fuck around and look at me, Sohni!” I do, and yep, his face is all shades of the Dempsey wrath but none of the shame. “Well? Explain yourself!”
“Explain?” Oh yeah, the words are flowing in now. “You’re supposed to be in a meeting with Kamil Kokyo at the office and not be here doing that!”
“What are you talking about?” He looks ready to physically evict me from his life, his hazel eyes glowing golden like a furious lion’s. “The meeting isn’t until three!”
I give him the look I often give him when he screws up, which has to be at least ten times a day. And then I shove my phone in his face. “We had to reschedule because Kamil cannot come at three. I texted you a reminder yesterday and the day before.”
His jawline becomes less severe as he takes my phone and reads the text I sent him. “Oh, shit, I forgot.”
“You don’t say. I even emailed you the meeting invite just in case and left a post-it on your fridge and your car.”
“Oh, was that your handwriting? So pretty.” The girl in the room picks this moment to introduce herself and her meet-cute with my boss. “Hi, I’m Chloe. We met at the coffee shop this morning and he bought me the last donut. Wait, are you his girlfriend?”
Ew.
“God, no, I’d rather kill myself,” I reply and then think to finish whatever this is for good, so I don’t have to wipe her tears two weeks—or days—from now. I shake her hand. “I’m his assistant but I was with his most recent ex just before I came here. Had to give her the break-up speech and all, you know how it goes. She lasted about a month because she played hard to get.” I give Chloe’s trim and toned figure clad in a lingerie-style top a stern once-over. “You might make it past day two.”
“Sohni.”
I ignore Sikandar’s warning and so does his date because now she’s frowning with her hands on her hips. “What do you mean you were giving her the break-up speech?”
“That’s part of my job.” I unzip my bag and pull out the jewelry box that Sera wouldn’t take and offer it to Chloe. “When he gets bored with you, he’ll send me to give you something like this. So I suggest you take it now and spare yourself the time you’ll waste with him. Find someone who’ll appreciate you, Chloe.” The sincerity in my voice brings out the soft twinkle in her eyes. “You deserve better.”
“Oh.” Her hands clutch her heart before clutching the jewelry box and snapping it open. “Is it real?”
Her gasp is adorable, but the way Sikandar is holding the bridge of his nose is a gift all its own.
“Yes. Real gold, real garnets.” I smile. “Enjoy, Chloe. It was nice to meet you.” Let’s never meet again. But I don’t say that and enthusiastically wave when she gathers her things and prances out of the bedroom, leaving my boss to glare at me some more. “Please, brush your hair. You look homeless.”
Not that his hair ever looks bad.
See, I’m very proud of my hair. I think they’re glorious and fit to feature in a shampoo ad for luscious brunettes, but Sikandar’s hair? That’s a thick glossy dark mane complete with a widow’s peak, which I love and wish I had, and it falls in shiny beachy waves just above his broad shoulders. Right now, it’s deliciously tousled and making me wish I could make a wig out of it and wear it on my bad hair days.
The day he starts balding will, indeed, be a day for universal mourning.
“You’re a cockblocker,” he’s still frowning.
“Excuse you, but catching my boss with his pants down isn’t how I wish to start my day either.”
“She wanted to return the favor for buying her coffee.”
“So you drove her to your penthouse? You have twenty minutes to get to a meeting that’s forty minutes away.”
“We’ll take my car. Stop yelling.” He walks past me to grab his wallet off the nightstand. “You can leave your dinky in my garage.”
“Ugh, what’s that?” I step closer when he turns to me and inspect his neck. “You’ve got a lipstick stain on your collar. Take off your shirt.” I’m already bouncing around in his closet from hanger to hanger looking for a shirt that will go with the charcoal gray suit he has on. “I can only see whites.”
“No, I wore white yesterday.” He comes in behind me and tries to finger through the hangers. “Get that lime green there.”
I pull it out and turn to hand it to him when my nose slams into his chest. Rock-hard abs and all that, and yes, I’ve seen before how chiseled he is, but every time it takes a bit of a moment to grab my floating mind and stuff it back in my skull—or push bile down my esophagus. It’s quite the same feeling.
“You’re staring.” His smirk doesn’t help either. “You’re welcome to—I don’t mind.”
“Gross.” I shove the shirt in his hands and step aside to walk out of the closet. “You had me break a lovely girl’s heart today while you were here whoring around with another. Do you have no idea what you do to these women?”
He slips on one sleeve and then the other. “They know the score, Sohni. I’m not making any promises I don’t intend to keep.”
“But they hope they can change you.” My brain is on autopilot, so my fingers start buttoning him up of their own volition. “I really liked Sera. I really hoped she’d be the one.”
A chuckle rumbles through him that I feel hitching up my already foul mood. “If you’re that hurt, maybe you should date her.”
“You know, Sikandar…” my fingers fist the front of his shirt in an angry grip, “…karma is a bitch, and one day it’ll come to bite you in the ass—and when it does, I’ll be there to watch with a bucket of buttered popcorn and a warm, fuzzy blanket.”
He leans in, his cologne invading my nose. “You’re wrinkling my collar, babydoll.”
I seriously need to find a new job.
“I’ll drive.” I snag his car keys from the nightstand and open my bag one last time to pull out a tablet and hand it to him. “You should look at the proposal and refresh your memory before you see Kamil. The man is extremely anal when it comes to facts and figures, and securing this account is your ultimate test, Sikandar. You cannot mess it up. This is how you show Mr. Dempsey you can do your job and handle everything. There is a chance—”
My blaring cell phone interrupts me, and Ali’s name on display has my eyebrows jumping and alerting my boss.
“What is it?” he asks, but I quietly motion for him to hurry the hell out of the door and read the documents while I take the call.
“What do you mean they’re early?” I gather my bag and rush after Sikandar through the hallway and into the elevator.
“Kamil’s wife is doing the meeting,” Ali sounds on the verge of tears. “He had to take a flight to Sweden or wherever the fuck. Sohni. He didn’t even come in for this meeting; that is not a good sign.”
“I know.” I’m rubbing my temple and glaring at Sikandar to keep reading while I sort this mess out. “How capable is she at handling this? Does she have the power to seal the deal?”
“She certainly looks to have enough power to make him not sign it if she doesn’t like us.”
“That’s not good.”
“What’s not good?” Sikandar asks, but I push him in the passenger seat of his sports-whatever-expensive-brand-with-a-trident—yes, it’s a Maserati—convertible. “Sohni? The fuck is going on?”
“Can you keep her busy and happy while we get there, Ali?”
“Holly seems to have found some common gossip that she’s absolutely enjoying.”
“Good, keep at it. We’ll be there in…” I check the clock on the dashboard screen, “…five minutes.” Or something like that. Make it ten.
Sikandar narrows his eyes at me. It’s clear he’s overheard parts of the conversation. “The office is more than half an hour away. Reschedule since Kamil couldn’t be bothered to make it.”
“You couldn’t be bothered to make it either.” I disconnect the call and start the engine. “You’re supposed to be reading.”
“I already know this. I sat through with Hol—”
But the rest of his sentence is hijacked by the wind as the car tears through the streets of Kemora in a mad drag to get to our bustling downtown. By the time I reach the skyscraper with an imposing sign of TDC TOWER plastered above its entrance, Sikandar’s knuckles are white from holding onto the handle.
“Go,” I tell him. “I’ll park the car and join you.”
He steals a glance at the dashboard clock before lifting his eyes to me. “Good God, woman. Where’d you learn to drive like that?”
“My boyfriend in college was a racer. He taught me.”
His eyebrows arch. “Why’d you break up? Too many traffic violations?”
“I wouldn’t sleep with him.” I laugh when his mouth falls open. “Go on, you’re late!”
Sikandar hops out and I roll out of the circular driveway toward the designated parking spots. It’s a brisk walk from the lot to the main building and another million minutes from the entrance to the elevator bank and then to the office on the twentieth floor.
When I finally walk through the double doors of the conference room, a chilling silence sweeps over me. Holly is standing by a blank projector screen, her face pale as though she fell into a vat of bleach while Ali’s is buried in his hands, his black-rimmed glasses resting on the table and he’s slumping in his chair next to Sikandar’s.
Sikandar is pushing a hand through his hair and working his mouth like a codfish.
“What’s going on?” I look around the vacant room. “Where’s the client?”
“Gone.” Ali sits back, locking his eyes with mine that clearly say how unhappy he is with the one person he is totally avoiding looking at. “Her exact words, ‘I cannot possibly breathe the same air as this douchebag’.”
“Oh, no.” My eyes immediately swivel to Sikandar. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!”
“What he always does.” Ali stands up, pushing his glasses up his nose and glaring at Sikandar in his educated Clark Kent style. “Let me guess. You forgot to call her after?”
“I did nothing,” Sikandar bites back. “I know most of the time it’s my dalliances causing the issue, but this time it’s because I actually said no.” He looks back at me, his eyes the color of I’m-not-lying. “I met her at the company’s winter gala three years ago, but she was there with someone else, so I very politely declined to have her tongue pushed down my throat.”
“And then?” Holly asks.
“And then I went home.”
“Alone?”
“With some… whoever was Svelte’s cover model that time.”
“Mina Komal,” Ali says and then shrugs when he feels all our eyes on him. “What? I follow my fashion.”
“Ya numpty.”
“What the fuck is a numpty?”
“It’s you, you twatwapple!”
“Holly, for heaven’s sake,” Sikandar groans. “Just because you spent a year in Ireland doesn’t mean you get to speak in a language we don’t understand.”
“Well,” Holly fidgets with the loose ends of her blonde hair. “It was a very long year.”
“And Mr. Mezher…” Sikandar pins Ali with a stare, “…you’re my chief finance guy. I understand the numbers involved, and I will never jeopardize this. I swear I didn’t know who Kamil’s wife was before I came here.”
“So what now?” I speak up before either Ali or Holly can steer the conversation toward yet another never-ending spiral. “Kamil is out of the country, and his designated signee hates you. What’s your game plan?”
“Maybe it’s time to alert Mr. Dempsey about this,” Ali says. “We have to get this project.”
“No, we’re not telling my father anything.” Sikandar jabs a finger at the table. “I can handle this.”
“Oh, I know!” Holly raises her hand as if we’re still in grade school. “You should sleep with her.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, she’s clearly mad you turned her down, so if you satisfy her, maybe she’ll have her husband sign the contract.”
Ali rubs his chin. “She’s got a point there.”
“Excuse me.” Sikandar’s brows dip. “What am I? A gigolo for hire?”
“Oh, come on, the one time your dalliances might come in handy to help the company, and you’re saying no?”
“Are you out of your goddamn—”
“Okay, cut it out, guys,” I raise my voice above their absurd ones. “That’s a terrible idea, and no, we’re not doing that.”
“And as much as it may surprise you, I do not find non-single women attractive. Single is my only type. Now, hush while I talk.” Sikandar picks up his cell phone and punches a contact. It takes a second for whoever is on the other line to pick up. “Hey, Kamil, how’s it going? Is this a bad time? I heard you’re off to Sweden. You ever been before? No? Oh, it’s beautiful at this time of the year. I wish I’d known earlier…yeah, I have an apartment in Stockholm. Would’ve loved to host you there…oh, yes, of course! Anytime. How’s your mom?”
Holly shoots me a look, mouthing the words ‘The MILF?’ while Ali’s lips twist like he tasted bile. I simply shake my head to let them know it was yet another scary night our boss immensely enjoyed wringing me through, but nothing scandalous happened.
Thank God.
“I’m afraid I don’t completely understand what happened either…” Sikandar’s deep voice echoes through the silent conference room. He always sounds as though he has a sexy cold or just rolled out of bed—or both. “I’m sorry, but those are not the numbers we have for you. Ali Mezher, my CFO, presented it to…”
He arches his brows at me, obviously expecting me to read his mind and come up with whatever he’s trying to say. I grab Ali’s pen and notepad, write out a name in bold letters, and hold it up for Mr. Fancy to read like a flashcard.
“…Bianca, your wife.” He gives me a thumbs-up. “Yes, it was emailed to you last week…yes, Holly Simmons is the project manager…that’s right, she did work on the city plaza scheme.”
His acknowledgment paired with a dazzling smile has Holly turning pink and doing a little dance with her arms and shoulders that so suits the charged mood in the room. It’s a little over two minutes, and Kamil Kokyo is still on the line. Ali’s stunned expression has happy undertones, which I can feel in my bones too.
This is good!
“Sure, I’d love to go over the numbers once more. When are you available?” Sikandar laughs. “Yes, of course, you can use the apartment. Mitt hem är ditt hem.” Another hearty chuckle. “Yes, I speak a little bit of Swedish. Just enough to get by…of course, I’ll teach you. Call me anytime!”
Holy shit. He just played Kamil Kokyo like an instrument.
Ali is already bumping fists in the air, and Holly holds out her hand to me for a high-five that I entertain. Sikandar ends the call and leans back in his chair, letting a smug smile split his face.
“Well, children,” he says, “I hope you took notes.”
“Boss! You’re the man!” Ali hollers.
“You have an apartment in Stockholm?” Holly asks, all keyed up like a child.
“No, he doesn’t. Not yet,” I reply, her joy already grating on my nerves because it reminds me of the calls to be made promptly to people who do own property in Stockholm in case Kamil Kokyo actually wants to stay in Sikandar’s apartment in Sweden. “Hey, Annabelle, how are you? How’s the baby? Listen, I have this huge favor to ask…”
Sikandar’s eyes follow me around the table, his smile never fading, while I arrange for our surely in-the-bag client to stay in a foreign country on our coin.
The rest of the day goes by without a hitch, and Sikandar even stays in his office going over charts and plans and blueprints and quotes and numbers like he’s supposed to. Not very many meetings are lined up, but the few that are require his presence, and he doesn’t give me any grief about it either.
“You were a six today,” I tell him on our way back to his car.
My Mazda is still at his penthouse, and he needs to take me back so I can pick it up. Technically, my day isn’t over yet because I can still see my boss within two feet of me. Actually, my day is never over because I’m always a phone call away to do his bidding, and that’s just wrong.
“Six?” He arches a brow. “Never thought you’d rate me that high.”
“You got Kokyo back after his wife blew it all up in our faces.” I open the passenger door and settle in. “And you were a good boss the rest of the day too, so that’s a six.”
He buckles up in the driver’s seat and slightly leans towards me, hooking his gaze with mine. “What do I have to do to make it a ten?”
“You know what you have to do, Ishki. You just don’t want to do it.”
He sighs and leans away, revving up the engine and backing out onto the street. “It’s just so boring, Sohni, I…couldn’t I have a few more years to myself?”
“You’re not a college kid anymore, Sikandar. All your friends have steady jobs. Quite a few of them are married and some even have children.” I’m sure my expression is similar to how his father looks at him during such sermons, but then a thought softens my stance. “Are you having a Zavyar Velshi moment, though? Where you ditch your family business and go work with your father’s friend? Mind you, Zavyar had Adam to pick up the reins after he left. You’re an only child.”
He chuckles, the throaty sound rumbling through the space between us. “No, I don’t want to ditch the family business, but that would be apt, wouldn’t it? Everyone keeps likening me to Zav anyway.”
“You mean because of his scandals.”
Another deep sigh as he makes a left turn at the traffic light. “Yes, Sohni, because of the scandals. Apparently, I’m the tabloid darling now.”
“Meanwhile, Zavyar is happily married to a Faramin princess and pleasantly humiliated at the hands of his toddler now and then.” The thought of Kemora’s once notorious bachelor submitting so completely to love in every form makes me smile. “You could learn a thing or two from him.”
The guy is like a scary typhoon to reckon with, but the way he turns to mush at the mere sight of his wife—whom I personally have a huge girl-crush on—is the talk of fairytales. And then, there are my brothers—same story there too. Safe to say that the men in my life are all powerhouses who love nothing more than pleasing their women.
“Hungry?” Sikandar slows down as we near a small burger joint that’s halfway from the office to his penthouse. “I’m craving junk food.”
“No, I have to be at my aunt’s tonight. I promised I’d be there for dinner.” I turn in my seat to face him. “Hey, why don’t you come along? It’s been a while, and they miss you at the mansion.”
“Your idiot brothers be there too?”
I laugh. “Yes. And you’ll get your ass handed to you every time you flirt with their wives.”
“Or Ayzal.” He gives me a wink. “Your aunt is a total hottie, and whenever Zubin dies, I’m calling dibs.”
“Sikandar.” I can’t help swatting his arm with the back of my hand. “That’s so rude. That’s my foster father you’re talking about.”
“Oh please, the guy didn’t even give you his last name.”
“I have my own last name. I don’t need anyone else’s.”
“I’ll give you mine.”
“What?”
He seems to stiffen for a microsecond as if finally hearing the nonsense coming out of his mouth—he has his lucky moments, sometimes—but then rolls his eyes. “I mean when I marry Ayzal and before I whisk her away to an exotic honeymoon destination, I’ll adopt you and freely give you rights to my last name. Of course, Yanni and Asher won’t be invited to the wedding, being Zubin’s sons and all, but their gorgeous wives could attend.”
“Oh, wow, wouldn’t that please them.”
“Right?”
This man.
All I can do is shake my head. “So? Dinner with the Tahars tonight?”
“No, I think I’ll go to Mom’s. Have her order me some junk food.”
“Aww, such a cutie patootie you are. Mommy would so love to.”
“Shut up.” He fails to reel in the smile that only a proud mama’s boy would sport. “You’re an annoying cockblocker.”
“You’re a horrible boss.”
“If you weren’t my best friend’s little sister, I’d fire you.”
“Please fire me so I can go back to assisting your amazing dad.”
“That’s messed up on so many levels, I can’t even count.”
That earns him another punch, but Sikandar Dempsey is like a well-glazed clay pot. Nothing ever sticks. But he’s okay. Having worked with him closely for about a year, his father before that, and then our social interaction because of our families, our boss-employee dynamic is anything but conventional, and his presence makes me comfortable enough to banter and poke fun and appreciate his sense of humor.
By the time he drops me off at my car in his garage, we’re both reeling with laughter as his recap of a horrible wardrobe malfunction comes to an end with his date stealing his clothes and leaving him locked in a coat closet at some frat party.
“Yanni rescued me, and I had to fetch him coffee for a month.” He claps his hands on the steering wheel while I try to get some oxygen into my lungs between cackling. “Your brother is evil.”
“You should date better women.” I’m still laughing as I get out of his car and walk toward mine. The sweet little blue Mazda beeps when I go near. “Thank you for the ride, Ishki. I’ll see you tomorrow. Say hi to your mom and dad.”
“Sohni.”
I turn around to look at him. He is standing with his arms folded above the retractable roof of his car that he pulled up earlier because I hate the wind in my hair. His suit jacket is long gone and resting in the backseat, and the shirt sleeves are rolled up to reveal impressive forearms. Veiny. Like a nurse’s dream who might be looking to stick a cannula or two.
Dafuq, Sohni, where did that come from?
Perhaps that cute doctor I met at Asher’s wedding last year left a more lasting impression than I’d thought. Anyway, time to kick the cute doctor out of my mind and pay attention to the suddenly serious bossman who’s looking at me like he’s…really looking at me.
“Yes?” I prompt him because his expression is a bit unnerving and foreign.
“You…” he stops as if to draw in a slow breath, “…you’re always a ten.”
God, I thought he was dying.
“Of course.” I lift one shoulder and angle my body to pose like a smug model. “I’m one heck of an assistant.”
Sikandar’s face splits into a wide grin. “You are. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I jump in my car and reverse out. Sikandar is still standing there watching me with his hands stuffed in his pockets when I turn the corner and leave his building behind.
