Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors (The Rajes #1)(71)

“No, I just stole it to drive you to the city in the style to which you’re accustomed.”

She turned around and glared at him. “Don’t be tasteless. That’s not what I meant.”

DJ WONDERED WHAT else Trisha Raje could possibly have meant.

He didn’t bother with asking the question. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t afford a Porsche right now and there was no point pretending to be offended when other people recognized that fact.

Emma’s Beetle had sprung a flat when he had driven her to Green Acres that afternoon. Emma’s friend Betsy had told DJ to take her car—and she could be utterly insistent when she was coherent. It was Betsy’s late husband’s car. She refused to sell it. Instead, she parked it at Green Acres and used it as bait to get her nieces and nephews to come see her.

When she had pressed him to take it, DJ had accepted gratefully, and hurriedly, because he hadn’t wanted to be late for the meeting with Trisha. As it turned out, the good doctor had been running late herself and had ordered him to meet her at her parents’ mansion.

After his conversation with Julia yesterday, he’d considered calling Nisha and begging off the job. But it was too important a job to walk away from and they were tangled up in far too many knots for him to avoid her. At least not until Emma was taken care of.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that Betsy owned a Porsche Neunelfer, his mood would be complete bollocks right now. But it was a fecking 911 Carrera! Who could be in a bad mood driving that?

The beauty might not be his, but he couldn’t bear to watch Dr. High and Mighty giving her the stink eye. “It doesn’t meet your approval?”

“I usually make it a point not to approve of things that guzzle gas by the ton,” she said tightly.

“Ah, so that Tesla there is yours then?”

She nodded at the bright red car with so much fondness she looked almost warm and fuzzy for a moment. Of course it would be an expensive car that was softening her up. Fitting.

“But I see it’s charging, so we’re going to have to take the gas guzzler,” he said with a touch too much delight.

He shouldn’t have. She was, after all, the Client.

“How’s Emma?” she asked with the kindness she saved up for his sister, and he was reminded of all the reasons why he should keep his feelings to himself.

“She’s fine. She’s at Green Acres. And I . . . I’m really glad she’s getting to do that.”

She paled, then opened her mouth and shut it again. Finally, she took a deep breath. “About Green Acres. That woman you were with. Is she . . . um . . . you two seemed um . . . actually . . .”

“You mean Julia?”

She stepped back as though he’d said something offensive again, and rage at what she’d done to Julia rose inside him.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but my family can’t work with anyone who has any relationship with her.”

Sodding hell, was she threatening to fire him again? When they were on their way to check out the venue?

“I’m not threatening you,” she said quickly, but her voice held none of the softness from before and her eyes held all the arrogant power that was the one thing he had no trouble associating with her. “I have to know. Because between the fund-raiser and Emma’s surgery . . .”

Unbelievable. Now she was throwing Emma’s surgery into her threats? “But you are threatening me,” he wanted to say. Except he wasn’t quite that reckless and he was not losing this gig because of her pettiness. “There’s no relationship,” he said flatly. “I had barely even spoken to her until that day.” But I know what you did to her.

“Okay,” she said, but there was something icy and brittle about the way she said the word, as though trusting him was not an option. “She isn’t the kind of person you should be associating with.”

Excuse him?

Those boys aren’t the kind of people you should be associating with. It’s what Ammaji had said to him when she’d seen him come home from hanging with Gulshan and the crew.

Every single time he came in contact with this woman, he ended up here, his worst memories surfacing, and all the rage he’d put away long ago dredged up with them.

And yet there was no getting away from her. Nowhere to go. There was never any bloody where to go. One of these days, he’d turn around and there would be no corner behind him. He wouldn’t be trapped. He’d be able to breathe.

Today was not that day.

“Shall we?” He held the car door open for her out of habit.

“Thank you.” She sank into the seat as though it was her birthright to have doors held open for her.

He took his time walking around the car and focused on the beautiful lines, stroking the glossy metal as he went. The pleasure of fitting himself behind the wheel of a machine this perfect anchored him in the present. If anything could make the journey ahead bearable, it was a ride like this.

She looked at the gold-appointed dashboard. “It’s cute.”

“The gas guzzler thanks you,” he said, not bothering to curb his sarcasm. “She’s probably never carried an outstanding surgeon before.”

Her only response was a weary look. Obviously, he wasn’t the only one dreading the afternoon ahead. But there was something so tired about her eyes that despite himself he felt like an arse. What was it about this woman that made him want to be a prick? Oh yeah, it was the fact that she was a callous snob and she made him feel like—what was the phrase?—ah, the hired help.