“Deepak, Raj is in the security business,” Peter said. “If Bharat is ever in the market for security services, you should partner up!”

“Most decisions I now defer to my son.”

Ajay’s heart clenched with love and gratitude.

“Dad, as it turns out, Ms. Hothi and I are already in discussions for an . . . opportunity.”

“Really?” Uncle Frankie leaned forward. “Deepak, what do you think about this? Should the board get involved?”

“Mr. Gupta,” Raj said, her voice holding a strain of surprise. “As a board member, do you question all of Bharat’s decisions? That’s a lot of micromanaging, don’t you think?”

“Well, I—”

“I expect my board to support me and know that I am invested in the success of my company. I’m sure Ajay feels the same.”

Ajay raised an eyebrow at Raj. “Uncle Frankie will have to soon see me as a leader and not the boy running around his backyard during Holi celebrations in the spring.”

“Deepak,” Uncle Frankie said, motioning to both Raj and Ajay. “These kids . . .”

Deepak put his hands up. “I know. They know more than we do, which is why I am convinced that Bharat will be in good hands. And Raj, I look forward to seeing what you and my son do together.”

The music changed and a slow song filtered through the speakers around the room.

“Oh, that’s the second to last song before dinner service,” Uncle Frankie said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my table. I hope you enjoy the reception tonight!”

He and Peter said their goodbyes before walking toward the left side of the ballroom.

“You two should dance,” Ajay’s father said. He motioned to the couples who had stepped onto the floor. “Take advantage of the music!”

“I have to get you back to the table, too,” Ajay said.

“I’m old, puttar, but I’m strong enough to walk across a room by myself. Raj? Come out to New Jersey sometime. My wife is a wonderful cook. We’ll talk more about business and your family. Okay?”

Something flickered in Raj’s expression, but she held that serene smile on her face. “That sounds lovely. I look forward to it.”

With one last pointed look at Ajay, Deepak Singh shuffled back toward his table. Hem met him halfway across the room, and despite what looked like an obvious protest, Deepak leaned on his eldest son the rest of the way to his chair.

“Well?” Ajay said to Raj. “Care to dance?”

She looked around the room and raised a brow. “You’re going to call attention to yourself. Everyone is probably going to find out the minute they see us together that I’m a soon-to-be divorcée. Not exactly an aunty favorite.”

“Fuck ’em.”

“You know I’m only here because I want a deal,” Raj said.