Page 28 of Born in Ruin

“I’ll give you two weeks,” he said, pushing back from the table. “Make it happen.”

He walked out of the room, his Head of Technology, Mahesh Sethi, following.

“Two weeks is a stretch,” Mahesh commented.

“Then they’ll stretch.” Ishaan strode into his office and threw himself into the chair behind the large stone desk. Carved from a single stone by a master sculptor, it was a work of art as was the rest of his office. Every single inch of it screamed money, a fact that had underlined the brief he’d given the designer. He’d spent decades with a very large chip on his shoulder.

They will never believe that I fell in love with you.

Ishaan hadn’t always been poor. He’d known what it was to have money, silver platters full of them, before his father had lost it all to his gambling addiction. Farhad Adajania had never recovered from his fall from grace. From a gambling addiction to an alcohol addiction had been a slide far smoother on the Senior Adajania than it had been on his family. The alcohol made him angry, delusional, and sent him on a pity party that never ended.

Things at home had gotten so bad that Ishaan had been grateful when the scholarship to Crestwood Heights had come through. He’d been desperate to live anywhere but at his home. Unfortunately, he’d jumped straight from the frying pan into the fire.

He should answer her question. The longer he went without answering, the worse they looked. But when he sat down at his desk, he didn’t reach for his phone but opened his laptop instead and went to work.

Hours later, his phone rang, a ringtone he recognised and always answered. Rubbing a hand over his tired eyes, he swiped up.

“Vir.”

“We need to talk. Your place in an hour?”

“I’ll be there.” He pulled up his calendar and moved meetings so he had the rest of the day free. And then he grabbed his stuff and left. He hadn’t heard anything from Mayukhi since the message he’d ignored. He was surprised by how badly he wanted to reach out. It was only because he wanted an update from her on the Dusty Devils. Not for any other reason. He sure as hell didn’t miss that viper tongued spawn of Satan.

They will never believe that I fell in love with you.

It was a good reminder. One he should keep front and centre in his brain. No one would ever believe what he’d tried to sell the world. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it himself.

His phone rang as he was turning into the street leading to his apartment. He sighed when he saw it was his mother calling. He’d promised to visit and he hadn’t so far. His mother was, for want of another word, persistent. He didn’t pick up knowing that he would pay heavily for that. The phone stopped ringing. He was just pulling into his garage when it rang again. He knew who it was without glancing at the phone. He also knew he couldn’t ignore this call.

“Myra.” He put the car in park as he answered. “Not now.”

His sister didn’t bother with a greeting. “Mom’s having a meltdown over the fact that you’re ignoring her.”

“I’m not ignoring her,” he replied, jabbing forcefully at the elevator button. “I’m busy.”

“Ish.” Myra sounded like she was pressing her fingers into her temples. “One meal, anytime at your convenience.”

“No.” He got into the elevator. “I’m not interested.”

“No. That won’t work. Sunday lunch?”

“Busy.”

“Ishaaannnnn.” His sister’s frustrated wail almost made him smile. Almost. “Please, Ish. I am begging you. For the sake of peace, have one bloody meal with your family.”

“I’ll think about it.” He stepped out on to his floor and walked towards the single door there. He had the penthouse which meant nobody else lived on this floor. Just the way he liked it.

“Please do.”

“Fine,” he said, unlocking his door and shoving it open. Amay and Virat were already there, staring at a file stuffed with papers. He didn’t see Dhrithi. “Talk to you later.”

He clicked the phone off and stared at his best friends. “Tell me,” he said.

“Naveen Kumar has a home in Alibaug. He hosts parties there on the regular. Every three months, like clockwork. We have information that he’s hosting a party for an intimate group of friends two weeks from now.”

“Good for him.” Ishaan left his laptop bag on the marble console table in the hall and joined them on the couch. “Why do we care?”

“You’re going to be part of that intimate group.”

---