She shrugged at Mariel. Turning Mehta away was not part of her job description right now.

“Thank you, Mariel!” she said as Jiggy emerged from behind her assistant in a lime-green golf shirt, black-and-white-striped slacks, and fluorescent-orange tennis shoes.

He started when he saw Vansh, then bounced over and pumped Vansh’s hand with even more excitement than Naina’s employees had displayed on seeing him. Must be nice to cause such a stir just by existing.

“So good to see you, Mr. Raje. What are you doing here?”

Something the tiniest bit embarrassed flitted across Vansh’s face. Jiggy evidently had no memory of having invited him to the office to discuss anything. Unless he did and he was being his usual complicated agenda-ridden self.

“I thought I’d bring my project ideas to you.”

“Project?” Someone like Jignesh running a multibillion-dollar company was one of life’s great injustices.

The man’s brain was capable of identifying obscure buried details amid the most complex of presentations, but Naina could swear she’d seen him change agendas midmeeting to throw people off more times than she could count, and she was quite sure he used not remembering his employees’ names as a tool to keep them on their toes.

Every one of his actions was carefully orchestrated to manipulate people and situations to his benefit.

“I was just suggesting to Vansh that he reach out to the Dorsey-Masey Foundation to hear the proposal he’s come up with.” Why the hell had she just said that?

Both Vansh and Jiggy turned to her with sudden alert interest.

“Whyever would Mr. Raje take his proposal to anyone else when he has me? Didn’t you promise you would work with me, Vansh?”

Naina was pretty certain Vansh had promised nothing of the sort.

“We talked about a possible opportunity at my brother’s victory celebration party,” Vansh said, his emphasis on the words my brother’s victory so subtle it was a thing of beauty. The glimmer of a smile he threw her way was barely discernible, but the gratefulness in it was unmistakable.

Only the stupidest person would let it warm her.

“I know. Didn’t we have an appointment today?” Jiggy said.

Vansh’s face didn’t change, but his eyes brightened.

Just because she didn’t enjoy Jiggy’s using his power to mess with people—especially people he saw as privileged—didn’t mean Naina was ready to share her funding with Vansh. No way in hell was she helping Vansh out with his pitch. The pitch he didn’t have because he had no real project.

“Okay, so who are we helping out? AIDS patients in Africa? Vaccinations in Asia?”

“The homeless in San Francisco.”

Mehta made a face. A disgusted face.