Page 53 of Carnal Games

Jesus fucking Christ, Iris.

Did you just issue an order like a bitch?Being around rich assholes and two-faced socialites is finally rubbing off on me.

“Yo… you’re family?” And she’s back to stuttering in fright.

I enjoy it a lot. Instead of replying, I cross my arms and impatiently tap my foot on the ground.

“Okay… Okay. I’ll let you up,” she mumbles, picking up the phone. “Just give me a sec.”

After a beat, she says, “Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Singhania.”

Wait. She’s asking him directly? Fuck. I thought she’ll try the assistant.

“Your sister-in-law is here to see you, sir. Shall I send her upstairs?”

Oh god! Oh god! Oh my god!

This is going to be humiliating.

I fidget in my heels and chew on my lip, ready to be thrown out and barred from returning to the building. The soft thud of the receptionist putting down the phone jerks me from my panicked thoughts.

“Mr. Singhania is ready to see you.”

I stop breathing altogether at those words. It’s the last thing I expected her to say. Recouping fast and masking my bafflement mixed with the butterflies in my belly, I manage to nod. She instructs me to take the private elevator and gives me the code that’ll take me directly to his floor.

He agreed to see me? Why does it feel like I’m walking into a wolf’s den?

Everything up to the point I ride the elevator and step onto the quiet lobby of the thirtieth floor is a blur, my mind whirling with all the possibilities of how our chat will go down. The ambience up here is opposite from downstairs. It’s less crowded, lingering executives talking in hushed tones and everyone minding their own business.

“Iris?”

I turn to the voice, watching a heavily pregnant woman strutting in my direction. “Hi, that’s me.”

I expect another ill welcome. Instead, I’m greeted with a genuinely bright smile. Or she’s too brilliant of an actress. “Hello, I’m Farah. I’m here to take you to see Mr. Singhania. He only has a couple of minutes before his next meeting, so we need to be quick.”

I follow her, trying to keep up with her pace. For a pregnant woman, her gait is quite fast. She keeps talking. “He never takes surprise meetings that are not on his calendar, but then again, you’re family.”

“Uh… uh.”

The deeper we go, the quieter and deserted the hallway becomes. Until we take the final turn and a set of gray double doors looms ahead. Unlike the trendy layout, his office doesn’t have glass walls for the utmost privacy.

I’m beginning to think he’s allergic to humans or something.

I so badly want to be the exception.

Two desks sit opposite each other. One occupied by another executive assistant, a sharply dressed man in his late twenties, who squints at his laptop screen.

What kind of man requires two assistants?

The kind that dominates the world.

The young assistant doesn’t even lift his head as Farah and I stop before her desk.

“That’s Arjun,” Farah introduces.

He finally acknowledges our presence by waving two fingers without diverting his attention from what has him so absorbed.

“You can go in, Iris,” Farah sweetly informs me, before rounding the desk to settle on her seat.

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