He exited his office and walked as fast as he could to the elevator banks without calling attention to himself. Should he call 911? What if she was seriously injured? Could it have been her ex-husband? That bastard might have come back at her for revenge.

Ajay pushed through the steel-and-glass front doors and onto the sidewalk. His hand went up and a cab slowed just as he approached the curb.

Without waiting for it to come to a complete stop, he yanked open the door, slid onto the torn leather seat, and barked directions at the driver.

He’d see Raj in nineteen minutes, and somehow, he had to work before he got there.

Chapter Eighteen
Rajneet

Raj wasn’t going to call him. Instead, she was going to pretend that she never had a brief, explosive, incredible week with a man who understood her, and focus on the next phase of her life like she’d planned when she first filed for divorce.

But when Khunda disappeared, Ajay was the only person she wanted to call for help. She watched for him out the front bay window, counting down the minutes, while periodically calling her dog’s name. When a cab stopped in front of her house, she yanked open the front door, her throat tightening as Ajay ran up her steps in a few short leaps.

“What is it? What happened? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, closing the door behind him. Her accent was thicker than it had been in a while as she burst out, “I’m so sorry. I know you’re upset with me. I didn’t want you to see me like this.” She motioned to her hair that was piled on top of her head in disarray, her leggings, and her thin off-the-shoulder sweater.

“Soni, what happened?” he said, softer this time.

The nickname was the last push over the edge. She let out a sob and sank into his arms. He wrapped her close, filling the emptiness that had haunted her all week. His beard rubbed against her temple, and he stroked her back as she let go of some of her tension and stress and some of her tears.

She didn’t have anyone else who wouldn’t judge her for panicking over a dog. It took her a few more moments before she could pull back and stand on her own. He brushed a tear off the curve of her cheek with his thumb, stroking the grayish bruises under her eyes that she hadn’t had the heart to conceal. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s my dog.”

“Your dog?” His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Khunda? You were able to pick her up already.”

“It was time,” she said, sniffing. “They said Saturday, but this week has been . . . hard, so I pushed Jill and asked if I could get her today.”