The shrill ringtone of Sam's phone pulled her from the depths of sleep. Disoriented, she rolled over, one hand groping in the dark for the offending phone, cursing when she accidently knocked over the paperback she'd been reading from the nightstand.

Finally, her fingers closed over the phone and she lifted her head to squint at the LED, groaning at the caller ID display, flopping back against the pillows as she brought the phone to her ear.

"Hello, Mummy." She croaked and cleared her throat. From the sounds of traffic coming from the speaker, Sam guessed her mother was in the car, probably on her way home from her shop.

"Why haven't you responded to my email yet?" As usual, her mother wasted no time in getting to the point. "And is it so hard to pick up a phone and call your mother once in a while, leh?

"But, I called you last week!" Sam protested, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She stole a glance at the illuminated digital clock on the nightstand and suppressed another groan.

Barely four in the morning and she had to deal with this. Not fair!

"So, I have been relegated to once a week calls? Is that what you Americans do now?"

Sam rolled her eyes at her mother's choice of words. It was always 'you Americans' when she wanted to guilt trip her offspring. Plus, it wasn't even up to a week since the last call. They'd talked on Saturday and today was Friday, so...technically, less than a week.

She kept that little tidbit to herself though, no need adding logs to an already burning fire.

"I'm sorry, I'll try to call more often."

That seemed to mollify her mother - for the moment.

"How is your brother? I hope he's not overworking himself at the hospital? I called him yesterday, but of course, the boy was too busy to talk to his mother..." Parvati heaved a sigh. "If I had known sending my children to America would make them forget simple family values, I would never have encouraged your father. Amir is no better, and that wife of his...I pray everyday for patience to tolerate..."

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose and prayed for patience herself as she listened to a litany of her sister-in-law's shortcomings - chief among those the fact that Chizzy Bhaat was not her choice of a wife for her first born son.

"Mummy, Chizzy is a wonderful girl," Sam replied and meant it. From the moment Amir had introduced the bubbly artist to Sam, the two got along really well.

"A wonderful girl whom your brother didn't even bring home first before marrying her? If she's so wonderful, why did he hide her from his family?"

Because you would have disapproved and found a way to discourage the marriage.

Again she refrained from pointing out the obvious. Seriously, was it too much to ask that she get a few extra moments of sleep before another loaded workday?

"Don't even think of pulling that stunt, you hear? My poor heart cannot bear another heartbreak. Find a nice, Indian man and bring him home, get married the proper way." Parvati ordered sternly. "I wish dear Zahir was still alive, but alas, we cannot question Fate."

"No, we can't." The mention of Zahir's name caused a tightening in her chest and her words came out shaky. She shut her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath which helped relieve some of the old ache.

As though sensing her change of mood, Parvati's tone softened. "How are you coping, Dearest?"

"I'm fine." Sam wiped at her damp eyes, forcing a cheerful lilt to her voice. "Been busy with work, but things are great."

"Don't be like your brother and work too hard," Parvati replied. "But, I'm happy you are doing fine. By the way, what do you think about that list I sent you?"

Sam groaned. "I haven't had time to really check it out."

"Well, do so and let me know, okay? I have made arrangements for you to meet with Vihaan, his sister's wedding is next month and I managed to get an invitation for you, check your email later. Of course, Yash will go with you -"

"Mummy, I can't just show up at the wedding!" Sam sat up, aghast at what she was hearing. "I don't know anyone there, and besides, I'm not looking for a husband."

And I'm certainly not going to be desperate enough to crash someone else's wedding just to meet a man.

"Hai, hai! You are not getting any younger, Sameera, you know."

"I'm not going to the wedding." Sam told her mother in a firm tone.

"Arre Baap re! I swear the gray hairs on my head just multiplied."

"That's why hair dye was invented." Sam quipped, already picturing her mother throwing up her hands in despair.

"Wait till you're my age, and your daughter starts mouthing off at you for trying to secure her happiness. You'll understand how I feel then."

Thankfully, that was still a long way off.

"No wedding, but if you text me his number, I will consider giving him a call." Which meant never.

Parvati sighed and capitulated. "Fine. I suppose that will have to do."

"I have to get ready for work, Mum." Sam said, eager to end to conversation before her mother launched into something else.

"Oh? So it's still morning there? I never remember the time difference."

"Yes, it's going on 5 a.m."

"Isn't that too early to be getting ready for work?"

"My office is quite far from here, and I need to be on time to catch the train."

"Why can't Yash drive you to work?" Parvati demanded, "I don't like this idea of you taking the subway alone, I hear those places are filled with dangerous people."

"It's no different in Mumbai, you know."

Her mother chose to ignore that. "Is Yash around? I want to speak to him."

Sam rolled her eyes in exasperation. "No, he's still at the hospital. And I can take care of myself. Look, Mum, I really need to go."

"Ah, okay. Have a lovely day at work, and tell that brother of yours to call me today." Sam knew the matter hadn't been dropped, only differed for the time being.

"Love you, Mum."

"Love you too, stubborn daughter of my heart. And remember to eat. I showed your Nani that photo you sent on Whatsapp last month, and she complained you've lost too much weight. No man wants a stick for a wife, leh?"

"Yes, Mummy, I'll eat more. Tell Nani I said hello."

Mission accomplished, her mother was only too happy to end the call.

With a sigh, Sam tossed her phone on the bed and rose, rolling her shoulders in an effort to ease the tension speaking to her mother had wrought. She pulled down the straps of the lace and silk black romper she'd worn to bed and headed for the bathroom.

Minutes later, she stood at the chest of drawers, struggling to slide shut a drawer filled to overflow with underwear of every color and style. With a last push, the thing slid only halfway shut and she sighed, a pale lace bra and matching panties in hand.

She picked up her phone, ignoring the text from her mother with Vihaan's number and typed a quick text to Dee.

Sam: Next time I try to buy more lingerie, please hit me over the head with a shoe.

She hit send, and moments later, a reply came.

Dee: That won't work, you'd just wake up from the coma I put you in, and go buy more. How's my honey boo? Is he home?

Sam: Honey boo? That makes my teeth ache. And no, he's not.

Dee: Any news about tall, fair and handsome? Has he bent you over his desk yet?

Sam tried not to picture the scene Dee's words conjured and failed. Miserably.

She felt her skin heat up at the fantasy of Ryan, standing behind her while she lay, legs spread, belly and breasts pressed against the desk. Of his hands sliding up her skirt to caress her bare skin, sliding down her panties before freeing himself, and sheathing his hot, hard length deep into her in a single thrust while they both groaned from the force of his possession.

Then she pictured the panicked look on his face when he'd essentially bolted from the couch, two days ago and that killed the fantasy.

Her heart constricted at the memory and she reminded herself sternly, that she was done with this stupid infatuation and all the reasons (six in total) why it was the best thing to do.

Number one reason being, starting something with Ryan would ultimately complicate matters, especially given the nature of their work relationship. And from Ryan's behavior, he probably thought the same.

She shook her head and typed a reply.

Sam: No, and there will be no bending over. Ever.

Dee: My Spidey sense tells me there's more to this. Spill.

Sam: Later. Need to get to work.

Dee: Meet me at the store after work, and we'll head out for drinks.

Sam: K.

Dropping the phone, she pulled on the underwear and crossed to her wardrobe. Mindful of her meeting up with Dee later, she opted for a short sleeved, apricot V-neck bodycon dress that ended just above the knees, pairing it with matching color shoes. Hair swept up in a loose braided French twist, makeup light but chic and she was ready.

She entered the living room, just as the front door opened and Yash stumbled in, still dressed in surgeon's scrubs under a tan overcoat, hair sticking every which way. He gave Sam a bleary smile before collapsing facedown on the couch with a groan.

"I could sleep for a fucking year." His voice was muffled by the couch.

Sam tutted in sympathy, knowing he'd just finished a forty-eight hour shift. "Want me to help you to your room?"

"Nah," he waved off her suggestion. "Don't wanna move. Start coffee, please?"

"Sure," Sam crossed to the kitchen and pulled out the bag of ground beans, feeding some to the coffee machine and started it brewing. Opening the fridge, she pulled out a Tupperware of leftover butter chicken that Dee had cooked and transferred it to the microwave, while Yash's light snores filled the room.

Food and coffee ready, she carried both to the living room, placing them on the coffee table. Yash stirred at the smell of coffee and pulled himself to a sitting position with a yawn.

"Thanks Sam," he said, reaching for the steaming cup.

"Mum called this morning, and wants you to call her back. Heads up, she's going to yell at you for not driving me to work." Yash's groan summed up his feelings on the matter.

"She knows we're adults, right?" He muttered, taking a sip from his cup. At thirty-one he was three years older than Sam, not that their mother deemed it old enough to stop trying to order him around.

"Try telling her that. At least she doesn't try to set you up with 'suitable' mates." Something in Yash's expression had her looking at him with raised eyebrows. "Wait. You too?"

"Got an email last week." He grimaced in distaste. "Told her I already had a girlfriend and she said she didn't want, and I quote 'A girl who shows off her body to the world, as a bahu."

"Yikes." Sam leaned over and patted his lap in sympathy. Dee was a former Victoria's Secret model, turned lingerie designer, a sore point for Parvati Bhaat.

"Yeah. Yikes." Yash glanced at his watch and looked at her in concern. It's almost 7, shouldn't you be on your way?"

*****

I'm so late!

Sam burst through the revolving doors into the lobby and made a beeline for the bank of elevators, her heels going clickety clack on the gleaming marble floor.

Inwardly, she cursed the New York metro system for her predicament. The train had been delayed a good thirty minutes before pulling into the station, only to be delayed again by a cut power line, halfway to Sam's stop. She'd had to exit the subway and hail a passing taxi, only to get stuck in traffic.

Her feet ached from walking the remaining four blocks, her hair had gone limp from the humidity and she was pretty sure there were damp spots in her pits.

She stepped into the elevator, ignoring the curious looks of the three people in there, who were no doubt, thinking she looked a mess. Her mood soured even more.

The first inkling of trouble was the sight of Jane waiting impatiently in the lobby of the P&D department, a look of sheer panic on her face. She pounced the minute Sam stepped off.

"Oh goodness! Thank God you're here." The poor woman looked ready to weep in relief. "I called and left several messages on your cell phone, but you weren't answering."

Unease pricked Sam's spine. Her phone had been in her purse, since the gods of misfortune had deemed it fit to cut off signal as well. "What's going on?"

Jane practically dragged her along as she talked in rapid fire speech. "Mr. Silverton Senior showed up unexpectedly this morning, wanting to speak with you and Ryan. He's been demanding your whereabouts for the past two hours."

Sam felt her heart drop. Of all the damn days to be late. She noticed the usually lively work floor now resembled a funeral, everyone glued to their desks, head bent.

"What happened to you?" Jane finally noticed her appearance.

"Long story." There was no time to freshen up, so she would have to meet her boss in her bedraggled state. "Where are they now?"

"Conference room." Jane paused long enough to lower her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's like the cold war in there, Ryan and his dad have been circling each other like hawks, with the occasional barbed comment now and then. Lola's been playing mediator."

Oh dear.

They reached the conference room and through the glass, Sam could see father and son seated at opposite ends of the long table, with Lola somewhere in between.

"Good luck!" Jane whispered, hanging back while Sam pushed open the door and stepped through.

"Good morning," She kept her tone light, with a hint of apology.

The tension was so palpable, a knife could slice through it. Both men took a break from glaring at each other to pin identical looks of censure on her.

"So good of you to finally deem it fit to join us, Ms. Bhaat," The ice in Bradford Silverton's voice could cause frostbite. He made a show of glancing at the expensive looking watch strapped to his wrist. "After over two hours of waiting. I hope this is not a habit?"

Sam looked towards Ryan, who remained silent, hard gaze sweeping over her body, mouth forming a tight line. He raised his eyes to her face, eyes hard as flint, but said nothing. Lola studied her in silence as well, a gleam of triumph in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Silverton," Sam turned her attention back to Bradford. She was careful not to sound too apologetic, not wanting to give off the wrong vibe. "There was a delay with the trains today. It won't happen again."

"Are you sure about that?" Ryan finally spoke, his tone as hard as his face.

Sam took her time responding, setting her bag on the table and choosing a seat closer to Bradford, a subtle reminder to Ryan on who outranked whom in this room.

"I'm not sure I understand your question." She replied finally, her tone cool.

"You seem certain today's event with the trains won't repeat itself." He clarified, fingers tapping soundlessly on the glass surface. "So, my question is, how can you be a hundred percent sure the trains won't be delayed another day?"

Sam felt her temper flare, but forced it back under control. What the hell was his problem? Why had he reverted to acting like a jerk when for the past three days, he'd been civil, nice even.

Pasting a wintry smile on her face, she shrugged. "I will simply take measures to reduce the chances of being stuck waiting from happening. There are alternate means of transport, as you are well aware."

His eyes flashed at her response and he raised an eyebrow in arrogant mockery. "Then maybe your answer to the initial question needs rephrasing."

"If I had time to waste, yes." She shot back, hackles up. "Not all of us have the luxury of time on our hands, or we wouldn't be here now, would we?."

It was a dig at his previous lacklustre work habits and his eyes narrowed, face like thunder. "You -"

"Enough!" Bradford cut in, aiming a look at his son. "Ms. Bhaat, a town car will be placed at your disposal, to avoid future incidents." He dismissed the matter with an imperious wave. "I want an update on what you have achieved since Monday. Make it quick, I have wasted enough time already."

If Sam hadn't been glaring at Ryan, she would have missed his flinch at his father's words. As it was, he seemed to recoil for an instant, eyes darkening with some unidentifiable emotion, but he swiftly resumed his arrogant posture.

"Yes, Ms. Bhaat. Fill us in...again, since the boss doesn't believe a word I've said." He sneered, body language deceptively uncaring.

"When you give me reason to take you seriously, then I will listen." Bradford replied in a dismissive tone.

"Good thing I have no interest in kissing your ass."

If felt highly awkward to sit there, listening to father and son engage in a verbal spat. She tried to catch Lola's eye, but the assistant refused to look her way.

Sam suppressed a sigh and sat straighter, quickly giving Bradford a rundown of her week and her discovery.

"We hope to start the appraisals by next week," she finished, tucking strands of limp hair behind her ears. She kept her gaze resolutely fixed on Bradford, though every nerve was conscious of Ryan's gaze on her.

Bradford nodded, and appeared deep in thought. "So, in your opinion, how much time do you need to pull this department back together?"

"Things are not as bad as I thought at first," Sam replied, choosing her words carefully. "But, if I should hazard a guess, I'd say about four to six months."

Ryan snorted, "Very diplomatic, Ms. Bhaat."

She glared at him and he responded with an irreverent grin, which only served to infuriate her further.

Bradford ignored his son. "Very well, I expect you to have things running smoothly. Which brings me to the reason for coming here. The Caine's Hotel and Resort."

Ryan sat up straight, every nerve ending tense as he stared at his father. "I told you, I'm working on it."

"Yes, but I want to bring Ms. Bhaat in on it as well. You're still in charge of getting him back on board, but she needs to be involved in the process."

Sam braced for the incoming explosion. Ryan's hands tightened into fists, the knuckles white and his jaw muscles worked furiously. In the seconds that ticked by in silence, it seemed even the air held its breath in anticipation.

Then, he seemed to relax, even summoned a grin, that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hear that, Sam? You're my babysitter now." his joke sounded forced, knuckles still white though the grin remained in place.

Sam remained silent, not knowing what to say. A part of her felt pity, but part of her still simmered with the remains of irritation.

Bradford rose and bid them good day, striding out of the room. A tense silence fell over the remaining occupants, until Ryan stood, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. "Well, this has been fun, hasn't it Sam?"

Not fun. Not for her, or him for that matter. Determined, she rose as well. "We need to talk."

"Can't, sorry I have a meeting in..." he consulted his watch and raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Look at that, I'm already running late, no thanks to you, Princess."

His gaze raked over her once more then he strode out the door.

Oh no, you don't!

She hurried