~7~

Fiancées & Blonde Barracudas Don’t Mix

 

 

“Sir, welcome back, sir! Mister Patil wants to see you. He’s waiting upstairs in the board room,” the thin, 12-year-old boy announced as soon as Kiran arrived for work at the hospital in Goa.

He had hired Sai, a local runaway orphan, to be his personal assistant. Since Sai’s sister Pari passed away a few months ago, he wouldn’t stay put at the orphanage, so Kiran thought he could “work” for the hospital in the afternoons as long as he agreed to attend school, do his homework, and stay out of trouble.

Truth be told, he was growing fond of the kid.

“Good to see you, Sai. Tell my father I’ll be there shortly,” Kiran answered. He had a growing pile of charts to examine and needed to at least check with Nurse Ira on the status of a few patients. His goal was to bury himself in work so his mind wouldn’t drift to Annika. She made her choice. Now he just needed to be patient and get through the next several weeks without her.

Without her scent.

Her touch.

Her tender kisses.

And her soft, supple body clinging to his every night.

His throat was instantly parched. He loosened his tie and forced the thought of Annika out of his head.

Later, heading up to the conference room on the top floor, he noticed the fresh flowers in each room, brought up from the atrium—another Annika “Improvement Project.” He smiled—something he rarely did before. Even Nurse Ira was happier; he once caught her humming a tune during surgery. Everything Annika touched was made better, including the menu at the hospital cafeteria, which now included her favorite green tea latte.

 

 

***

 

John Patil was a force of nature even when reduced to moving about in a wheelchair. Kiran entered the board room filled with the intimidating presence of the stiff old man, kissed him on the cheek then took a seat across from him at the long, mahogany table.

A vase of fresh pink roses—Annika’s favorite—sat between them. Kiran again tried to evict her from his head, but failed.

She was ever-present.

“Nice to see you, father. Did I miss an appointment reminder from my assistant?”

The older man checked his watch, his mind elsewhere for a moment, business always his top priority. “I brought someone for you to meet. She’s getting a tour of the hospital right now.”

“Who is it?” Kiran asked, puzzled. It must be someone of importance for his father to lift his weak body onto a helicopter and fly to Goa.

“Lucy Vanderbilt,” his father answered.

Kiran knew the name; it was the wealthy American who planned to fund the new orphanage in Goa. But she wasn’t supposed to arrive until next week.

“Oh? She’s here early. Why? We were going to meet at the board meeting in Mumbai next week.” Kiran forced a pleasant tone, though his defenses were always up around his stern father. John had built the Patil medical empire from the ground up and very rarely wasted time. If he had flown in from Mumbai without notice, dragging a rich American with him, it wasn’t just a fun, spontaneous impulse.

It was calculated.

“I wanted her to spend some time at your hospital in Goa. Observe what you’re doing here. She’s quite the woman. You’ll see.”

“Sounds like you’re setting me up,” Kiran said, less than amused. He was used to his father’s old, tired trick of arranging “tours” with wealthy, well-connected single women.

“Why would I do that? You’re marrying that girl from Texas, Annie.”

“It’s Annika, and you know that…”

Before they could plunge into an argument, the door opened.

“Sorry I’m late! What a well-run hospital you have.” The tall blonde in the chic black trousers and crisp white shirt spotted Kiran and immediately held out her hand, her eyes seeming to drink him in like a tall, cool glass of iced tea on a hot day. “Hi, I’m Lucy.”

Kiran stood up and extended his hand. Lucy was younger than he imagined—maybe thirty—and quite attractive. She had an air of careful and detached refinement about her as well, no doubt due to having been raised in the same manner as he: in the finest boarding schools money could buy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Vanderbilt. I’m Kiran.”

“It’s miss, actually. Mrs. Vanderbilt is my mother,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye. It was obvious that she was delighted to find that the man she would be working with on the orphanage was young and handsome. “Please call me Lucy.”

Kiran’s father cleared his voice again. “Kiran will show you the area and you can discuss plans for the new project. Kiran, Miss Vanderbilt—Lucy—is very open to partnering with the charity long-term.”

“Brilliant. Welcome to Goa,” was Kiran’s response, but he was no fool. His father was interested in a different kind of partnership—one where his son would marry into a powerful and wealthy family like the Vanderbilts.

He recalled the day he announced his engagement to Annika and his father probing her about the Bashir name and legacy. Her brother, Dev, was well-known and respected in the banking world, but the chain of Texas hotels owned by her parents was underwhelming to say the least.

“That’s wonderful. Shall we discuss plans over dinner?” replied Lucy.

Kiran noticed his dad’s lips twitch, fighting a smile, over her invitation. He hated it, but this was for the orphanage. “That sounds fine. Why don’t you come along, father? I insist.”

“No, I have to be back in the city. You two get to know each other. Hopefully you’ll be working closely together for many years to come.”

The double meaning of his father’s words were not lost on Kiran. He turned back to Lucy to set things straight.

“Annika, my fiancée would love to meet you as well. She’ll be working with the foundation on the orphanage after we’re married,” Kiran explained eager to get this bit of news on the table to erase any romantic ideas from either of them.

“Congratulations,” Lucy said, slightly less enthusiastic.

“Where is your fiancée, Kiran? I thought she was coming back with you now? Something holding her up in Texas?” John asked, attempting and failing at sounding sincerely confused. Kiran knew his father better than this. He knew about the lawsuit. How could he not? It was public information—easy to find—and his father always kept track of anyone who came near their family. He made it his priority to know everything about any girl he had ever dated, down to her eating habits, report cards in elementary school, and even what type of shampoo she preferred.

“She has a few things to attend to, and then she’ll be here as soon as possible,” Kiran said, guarded.

“I look forward to meeting her.” Lucy added, smiling, her careful training in good manners allowing her to display sincerity where none existed.

Kiran made himself smile in return, but something about this woman caught him off-guard, like he was a minnow and she the barracuda who had just swam into his part of the ocean, hungry, and…pretty.

He should have stood firm and demanded Annika settle.

Too late for that, he thought before he exchanged cell phone numbers with Lucy, said his pleasant goodbyes, and then left to go check on his growing list of patients. Now he was trapped in India escorting the blonde barracuda around town.