Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors (The Rajes #1)(119)

He was a bloody wanker.

Popping open the boot of the Beetle, he stared at the eighty pounds of tomatoes that sat in cardboard boxes. Today he would prep the makhani sauce for the fund-raiser. No one had fired him yet, so he was forging ahead as planned. Julia had kept her end of the deal and said nothing about the arson thing to anyone. He wasn’t going to think about her lining her pockets from Emma’s video. He didn’t care so long as she left Trisha alone.

He grabbed the bags of cilantro, green chilies, ginger, and garlic. To move the tomato boxes he’d have to bring the trolley out. He trudged up the steps that sent another wave of yearning coursing through him and was about to punch in the security code when he realized that it wasn’t armed. Someone had already disarmed the security system.

He turned the handle. It was unlocked. There had to be something wrong.

“Hullo?” He pushed the heavy metal door open. Then putting the bags down on the floor, he reached for his phone to call Ashna.

“There’s no need to wake Ashna at this hour.”

A man dressed as if he were off to a GQ photo shoot was looking at him with eyes the exact shape of Trisha’s, a neck just as unusually long, and lips that quirked with just as much sardonic focus.

He extended his hand and gave DJ a firm handshake. “Yash Raje.”

“I know.” DJ looked around the kitchen. There was no one else there.

“You expecting someone else?” Yash leaned over and picked up one of the bags that DJ had put down and took it into the kitchen.

“Thank you.” DJ followed him and put the bag he was carrying down next to the sink. “Actually, I wasn’t expecting anyone at all. Ashna lets me use the kitchen for a few hours every morning. How may I help you?”

“I know. I have a slew of sisters who seem quite ready to do anything for you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Yash smiled at that and DJ was reminded of the look that crossed Trisha’s face every time he said those words. “I mean they’d do anything to make sure they get to eat your food.”

“I’ve been told I do all right. Probably why I’m cooking the food for your event.”

The man didn’t respond and DJ studied his face. Was he here to fire him? God knows, he had enough reason to.

Four A.M. was too early for games. “Am I cooking for your dinner?” DJ asked. Because if he wasn’t, he’d rather find out before he made eighty pounds of makhani sauce.

Trisha’s brother peeked into the bag he’d put down. But didn’t respond.

“Do you mind if I unload my car?” DJ asked because he had only four hours to get this done. Just in case he wasn’t about to be fired.

“Of course. Let me help you.” Yash followed him out with the trolley and helped him haul the tomato boxes out of the trunk and onto it. He seemed focused enough on the task, but DJ had a sense he was being studied the entire time.

“My sister is the least devious person I know,” he said when DJ was halfway up the ramp with the trolley, which was rather heavy. Then Yash sauntered past him and held the door open. “She’s also the easiest person in the world to hurt when she lets her guard down.”

“I am aware.” DJ dragged the trolley into the kitchen, cut open a box, and started transferring the tomatoes into the sink. “And she doesn’t let that guard down much, does she? But when she does . . .” The tomato in his hand was in danger of being crushed, so he put it down, pulled the extendable faucet, and filled a pot on the stove and set it to boil. “She’s also incredibly brilliant and brave and I’ve never met anyone who works harder. And her focus is a scary thing. And everyone in your family seems to depend on her and she devotes all her existence into being there for you. I know.”

God, what had he done? How was he ever going to make it right? He started to wash the tomatoes, rubbing at little patches of dirt, trying to scrape them off without damaging the delicate skin. Then he wiped his hands on his smock, wishing he could wipe away the words he had just said because Yash stood there, watching him with hooded eyes. “You’re not one of those Indian blokes who kills anyone who looks in his sister’s direction, are you?”

That earned him a laugh but the man’s eyes stayed guarded. “My sisters can take care of their honor by themselves just fine, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, mine too, mate. God help anyone who thinks she needs protecting.”

A commiserating smile slipped past Yash’s lips and he dipped his head in response. “How is Emma doing?”

“She’s doing great. Thanks to Trisha. Ready to come home. You didn’t answer my question—am I catering your event?”

“If you know Trisha, you should know the answer to that question.”

He did. She had already told him that she would do what she could to make sure he kept his job. He started to empty out the rest of the tomatoes and wash them.

Yash helped him, slicing open the boxes and handing him the tomatoes.

They worked in silence until the boxes were empty. When the water on the stove came to a boil, DJ dumped the first batch of tomatoes into it and watched as they bobbed, ready to have their skin peeled off and their most tender flesh exposed.

“And what about Julia Wickham making a film on Emma?” If the guy was going to play games DJ didn’t have time for, it fell on him to lay things out. He prodded the tomatoes and set a timer on his phone.