“To strengthen our business relations.”
The sound of it doesn’t sit right with me, and I narrow my eyes, and he raises his hands in surrender.
“I have no ill intentions, Reyansh.”
“Mr. Carter, if you will,” I correct.
His face changes automatically. An arrogant man doesn’t like to be corrected, least of all called out like that.
“Mr. Carter,” he corrects, his voice sharp now as he stands up. “Dinner with you and your wife. Your family, right?”
I look at Henry, and he gives me one of those looks that says, “Don’t lose your calm, and don’t buy his shit.”
“If my wife wants to, then we will,” I say cautiously. No way in hell do I wish to bring her in his vicinity. But business needs me to think rationally. Not at her discomfort, of course.
“You are whipped,” he comments, shaking my hand, and I give his hand a nice and tight squeeze.
“As I should be,” I add with a tight smile. “Nice meeting you again, Mr. Maxwell.”
* * *
Pissed off is an understatement of my mood that follows right after he leaves. I am furious. I have already broken a few cups of tea that were brought by Henry after he left, and then he just gave up on me and stopped bringing me my afternoon tea.
I have always been a possessive man, but with Aisha, that possessiveness has always been different. It has bordered over toxic and healthy for a long time. Maybe it is my insecurity that maybe she will find someone better than me. Or that someone will take her away from me, which I know deep down is stupid. But when you find the ray of sunshine after having lived in the darkness of your mind all your life, it is hard to act normal about it.
I scroll through the project folders on my Macbook when my phone rings, and I close my eyes to take in a deep, calming breath before I pick it up.
“Hello,” my voice comes out harsher than I intended, and I bite my tongue when I hear who’s on the other side.
“Reyansh?” Aisha’s sweet voice reaches my ears, instantly calming some of the tension forming inside my head.
“Yes,meri jaan,” the words slip out of my mouth like an instinct.
I so wish I had called hermeri jaanin person just so I would get to witness the blush on her face.
“You there?” I ask, a smirk on my face.
“Yes,” she coughs. “Ah—Mom wanted to know how late you will be. She texted you a few times, but you didn’t answer.”
“Oh, I didn’t check my phone, but I will be back by twelve.”
“Okay. I will let her know.”
“Yes, that would be great.”
I think she will hang up on me now, and the disappointment fills in my chest rapidly when she stops to ask me.
“You sounded stressed when you picked up?” she asks, and I can sense the hesitance in her voice, and the fact that she pushed past it and asked me makes me a lot happier than I would have let her know in the moment.
“I was just…” I think about which word to go with. All that come to my mind are inappropriate. “Pissed. Yes, pissed. A client of mine is just straight obnoxious.”
“Why? What happened?”
“He just reeks of arrogance and attitude and money, and I can’t stand his behavior for more than five minutes. Unfortunately, he is also one of our oldest and biggest clients, so I can’t simply let go of him.”
She hums, and I feel the knots in my stomach loosen.
“That’s all? That’s why you are pissed?”
