Spending the night at his bungalow at Bharat Mahal had helped clear his thoughts.

It apparently helped with catching up on sleep, too.

Ajay pulled back the covers and stretched, easing his sleep-sore muscles. Hopefully no one was tending the gardens, otherwise they’d get a show. He walked naked downstairs wearing nothing but his silver kara, the bracelet that he never took off. After some searching, he located his phone under a stack of files on the kitchen island.

“This is what happens when you take a break,” he said as he watched the messages load on his screen. He had over a hundred emails, sixteen voice mails, and forty-seven texts. He checked his assistant’s texts first.

RAFAEL (6:45 AM): Sir, please call me as soon as you are able. You had a conference call at 6:30 you missed.

“Shit,” Ajay muttered. That call was supposed to be with the distribution center in India that they were hoping to purchase. He scrolled to the next message.

RAFAEL (6:57 AM): Sir, your brothers are looking for you. I told them you were staying at your bungalow on the Singh family compound.

RAFAEL (7:15 AM): Sir, Hem is on his way to the family compound and should be there at approximately 8 a.m. I’ve rescheduled your morning meetings and calls before 9 a.m. Your brother Zail landed this morning from California and is also on his way. Please contact me.

“That’ll show me the next time I want to sleep in,” Ajay said.

RAFAEL (7:34 AM): Ajay, do I need to call your mother to go out there and find you? Am I clearing your schedule for the entire day? Your cousin Bhram is trying to reach you and is unable to do so, as well. By the way, I keep getting lilies at the office. I’d appreciate it if, during your conversation with Bhram, you told him to stop.

Before Ajay could call Rafael to let him know he was awake, his doorbell went off in a series of rings.

His brother. Always punctual.

Punjabi swearing came through the thick wood door loud and clear. “Oye! Are you dead? Answer the door!” Hem shouted in Punjabi.

“Oye, chutiya, I’m naked!” he said, swearing in the same language. He tossed his phone on the counter and rushed back to his room where he found a pair of boxers and tugged them on. If he answered the door in his birthday suit, Hem would probably whip out his dick and a ruler just to be the smartass older brother.

Less than thirty seconds later, Hem was still pounding on the door when he answered. “What the hell, bhai?”

His older brother rolled his eyes. He’d shaved, his hair was neatly styled, and he was dressed as if he was headed to work. “I came to see if you were alive. I’d think you’d have finished most of your workday already.”