In seventy-two hours, Hemdeep Singh had flown halfway around the world, led seven meetings for his client, reviewed hundreds of OSHA guidance documents, and taken a tour of two plants and warehouse facilities. The final contract negotiations were underway, and if he could secure the multimillion-dollar agreement, he’d have another successful win for his new firm.

The hotel he used as his home base for negotiations in the Philippines was a hotbed for tycoons and wealthy families because it provided discretion and luxury. Next to the bar that snaked along one side of the waterfall, where bartenders decorated drinks with exotic flowers, Hem swirled the top-shelf whiskey in his tumbler before toasting Faisal Rao, a magnate in the renewable energy industry. Faisal was also a vicious negotiator and had graduated from a top ten law school before investing his family’s fortune in enterprise.

“Section 27.8 won’t affect your bottom line, but it’ll protect both my client and you from tax concerns.”

Faisal hummed and scratched his beard. “I’m likely to agree with you—”

“Then we can sign.”

“But I want my team to take a look at it.”

Damn it, Hem thought. There wasn’t a chance in hell of wrapping up the agreement within the hour if Faisal sent it back to his team. They were slow as shit.

“You know your business better than they do,” Hem countered. “It’s you that’s taking the risk.”

Faisal grinned. “That’s very true.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his thick chest. “That’s why I’m thinking my team should review it. I don’t want to make any rushed decisions since I’ll be paying the penalty.”

“We can go back and forth like this forever,” Hem said.

Faisal let out a laugh. “You’re right. And on that note, it’s nice to see another Indian from the States entrenched in global contract negotiation. We’re a rarity, and our conversations have been a pleasure. Are you a Singh from Rajasthan or Singh from—?”

“Punjab. Sikh Punjabi from Chandigarh. My relatives still live there.” Hem hated this type of small talk but if he could connect with Faisal on a personal level, then he’d bare his soul like he was talking to a shrink just to close the deal.

“My father’s family came from Chandigarh originally,” the man said with apparent joy. “My father was desperate to wear a turban and carry a sword in his youth like the traditional Sikh men he saw growing up. So he’s said. Honestly, your height should’ve clued me in. What are you, six-two?”

“Six-four.”

“Yes, your height is definitely a trademark quality of a Sikh man. You know, I was surprised that Tevish was using such a young firm to handle the negotiation. It couldn’t have just been your height and looks that landed his account.”

Pride.