She followed him to his car. Aziz Manji was an imposing man. Tall, at least tall by Indian standards, and with a full head of black hair even in his fifties. His appearance reflected his intelligence and his respectability in the community, where he was revered and admired for his philanthropy as well as for the modest empire he had grown from the bottom up. None of the Manji children had inherited his stature or dignity.

They went to a Tim Hortons doughnut shop a decent distance from the project. “There’s nothing closer,” he said. “I don’t understand why the neighborhood fought against the development. Who wants to go so far for tea?”

“You guys putting a coffee shop in the building?”

“Yes.” He pulled into the parking lot. “In the corner unit. Nadim is negotiating with developers.”

Dad bought some doughnuts, a coffee for her, and a tea for himself. “Shh,” he said with a smile. “Don’t tell Saira I’m eating doughnuts. Or maybe we’ll tell her they’re made with kelp and kale?”

Reena laughed before suddenly stilling. She couldn’t remember the last time her father cracked a joke. She blew gently on her coffee.

“I wanted to speak to you about Nadim,” Dad said.

“Okay …” she responded, raking her brain to sort through which parts of their friendship she could reveal. The contest, the shared beers, the lice … definitely not. The foot rub? Most definitely not.

“I know your mother has hopes for you and him,” Dad said, seemingly oblivious to Reena’s distraction. “An eligible man around your age with a master’s degree from LSE? It is a blessing he has come into our lives and is eager to join our family.”

Ugh. Nadim was nothing but the letters after his name. She sighed. On the surface, Dad cared a lot about “young people starting out,” as he put it. The goal of this project was to provide affordable home ownership to millennials who had been priced out of the city. But when it came to his own children, he just spewed orders and expected them to obey. Or used them as bait to lure investors.

“I understand you have had the opportunity to get to know the man?” he asked.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Um, yes. A little.”

“What are your thoughts?”

Reena blinked. Her thoughts? What could she say? Bit of a rake, a definite flirt, and in the possession of a weirdly charming foot fetish? A man who had very, very talented hands …

She swallowed. “He seems … interesting. Well-rounded. Smart, too.”

“Have you met any of his friends?”

Friends? Did he have any? She couldn’t recall Nadim mentioning friends to Reena. Ever.

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe there is any value to listening to this kind of chatter, but I heard rumors about Nadim’s past. I hoped you would help me confirm they aren’t true.”

Reena stilled. “What rumors?”

“Just some rumblings that he may have been involved with some underhanded people. I don’t know much about his life in London. Has he told you anything?”