“Would you like some … coffee? Chai? Breakfast?”

“Just coffee.” He sat at the high stool.

“It’s cold brew, but I can heat it up.”

Dad’s forehead wrinkled. “Cold brew? Why don’t you just use a coffeemaker? You make things more difficult than they need to be, Reena.”

Reena sighed as she pulled her old French press from the top shelf of the cabinet. Her father’s mood was nothing like their last meeting, when Dad had been all compliments and jokes. She filled the kettle.

“I had a disappointing phone call yesterday,” he said.

“Shiroz Remtulla. You’re upset because I refused to marry Nadim.”

“Yes, Shiroz was the call, but no, Reena, that is not what upsets me. I believe our role as parents is to facilitate an introduction, but of course I allow you to make your own choice.”

“Allow? Dad, I’m thirty-one. I don’t need your permission to make a choice.”

He exhaled. “If you’ve discovered so early that you and Nadim are incompatible, then I am happy. No harm done.”

She stifled a snort. Multiple simultaneous orgasms, the last one being a mere hour ago, did not lead Reena’s thoughts to incompatibility.

She poured hot water from the kettle over the coffee grounds. “So, then what, Dad? Why are you angry?”

“I am not angry, just confused. Shiroz said you and Nadim have become close friends.”

“And? If I won’t marry him, I’m not allowed to be friends with him?”

“Of course you can be friends, Reena. But I was under the impression, from both of you, mind you, that you barely knew each other. Have you forgotten what I asked you that day?”

“You asked me to spy on him.”

Dad put his hand down on the counter heavily. “I asked no such thing. But this is our business! I can’t ignore the rumors I heard. All I want to know is who his friends are. Who is he in regular contact with?”

“I’ll tell you who his friend is. Me. Why would you want me to betray my friend by telling his boss about his personal life?”

“I had hoped my children would show a bit more loyalty to the family.”

Reena pinched her lips shut while pushing down the plunger of the French press. She pulled out a mug and poured the coffee. Where were her loyalties, anyway? She did know information about Nadim, albeit not directly from him. And while the intel she had was worthy of a little raised eyebrow on the gossip train, it was hardly worth risking Nadim’s job and his father’s investment.

So what if Nadim used to hang with a bad crowd? And how rational was her father’s dislike of Salim Shah and his ilk anyway? Her father was condemning these people while barely knowing a thing about them.

She placed his coffee on the bar in front of his seat. “How is Nadim working out at the Diamond project? Do you have any reason to be concerned?”