Codename lotus, p.2
Codename Lotus, page 2
“We still don’t know the nature of Manish’s business, or who he crossed, Saanya. And have you considered his family? Do you really want to return to India as a widow?”
My shoulders slumped. Life with Naomi—who couldn’t stand me—still sounded better than being treated like a disgrace by my in-laws.
“I wouldn’t be going to Mumbai. He’s dead, and nothing ties me to them anymore. I’m not anyone’s property.”
“I know. Of course not. But give Naomi a chance. There’s more to her than meets the eye. Trust me?”
I closed my eyes. “Fine, Sid. A week. But that’s it.”
“I can speak to her—”
“Please don’t. I will try to sort this myself.”
“All right.”
“How are Mum and Baba? Have you rung home?” My heart ached at the thought of Kolkata. I’d resolved not to burden them with this mess. “And Baba’s blood pressure?”
“They’re fine. They still think you’re just lying low, enjoying a holiday somewhere with a uni friend. Mum is good. Baba’s busy as ever, ignoring doctor’s orders and holding onto GlobalLink like a lifeline. But he’s okay, Saanya. Really.”
I nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “Tell them I miss them.”
“Always,” he promised gently. “Saanya, about Naomi…she loves gardening. Maybe start there? And she has a soft spot for classical Indian music, especially anything with sarangi. It reminds her of home.”
I laughed. “Home? A sarangi reminds her of the States?”
“Saanya…” I could hear his scolding smirk.
Of course I knew Naomi’s roots well. Half Punjabi from her mother’s side and an English rose from her father’s. Born and raised in London. And perhaps it was unfair of me to say, but—
“She’s rude.”
Sid laughed. “There’s a lot about Naomi that might surprise you. She isn’t rude, just particular.”
“Okay.”
I rose from the bed, and I wasn’t sure why, but I smiled. “All right. I’ll try.”
“Good. And Saanya, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Naomi has a weakness for a good tea. Perfect way to break the ice.”
My smile widened. “Tea. I can manage that.”
“Just give it some time. And remember, I’m just a phone call away.”
I stood at the glass door, gazing outside. This window was a blessing. Switzerland was so green. So… harmless.
I found myself contemplating the meticulously tended grounds, the blooming flowers so vibrant, they invited me to step outside. I swallowed hard, my hand hovering near the door. It would be so easy to just…turn the handle and step into a garden I didn’t know. Full of things I couldn’t predict.
My stomach dropped at the thought.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply before my hand started to shake.
After our terse exchange over coffee this morning, I’d carefully stayed out of Naomi’s way. She’d spent the day locked in back-to-back calls. At one point, I’d caught glimpses of her silhouette pacing her office.
It was this small glass square perfectly nestled in the center of the house like a watchtower, with a panoramic view of the Swiss Alps outside, and everything else inside.
Around noon, I found myself aimlessly wandering back into the kitchen. At this hour, I’d typically be sharing a warm meal with my mum, whether in Kolkata or London. Even Manish, who never valued meals together, hadn’t stopped me from holding on to this small tradition.
Now, the kitchen felt pristine yet empty, every countertop bare except for a bowl of apples.
Wouldn’t a proper host at least ensure her guest wasn’t hungry? Perhaps Naomi skipped lunch too.
My stomach growled in protest.
Bloody brilliant.
When Naomi finally emerged from her office, dusk had painted long shadows across the floor. She paused, startled.
“You did leave the kitchen at some point today, didn’t you?”
Her tone sounded almost guilty, but I knew there was no such thing with Naomi. It was one of her usual sarcastic, awkwardly amused one-liners.
I felt a smile tugging at my lips despite myself. She still had that unintentionally comedic, oh-so-English edge.
“No,” I said, holding her gaze. “I thought I’d meet you for lunch, but somehow that morphed into dinner while I waited.”
Her eyes widened briefly, clearly thrown off balance. My younger self would have never.
“You forgot I was here, didn’t you?”
“I—no.”
Her appalled expression was almost convincing. She hesitated, then sighed. “I’ve been tied up in meetings all day.”
I glanced away, giving her space to recover. “I was looking for Helga earlier.”
“Maybe she went to the city today. Or the market. On a mountain trek? How would I know? I don’t keep track of people, nor am I in the business of babysitting.”
Ouch.
Naomi strode to the refrigerator and fetched a bottle of water. She shrugged as if she couldn’t be bothered. Or, even worse, as if it wasn’t a big deal.
“I usually skip lunch. Too busy. I hope you didn’t subject yourself to starvation. What would I ever tell your brother?” She tilted her head, almost mockingly, only it wasn’t a mock. It was supposed to be funny. A sarcastic I-can’t-believe-I’m-stuck-with-you kind of funny.
Was Sidharth right? Was I merely misinterpreting a painfully wry cover Naomi used as a shield?
“Don’t worry. I ate some fruit.”
Naomi sighed, glancing at her watch. She was no longer wearing the sporty one.
“Either way, wherever Helga is, she’d better return in the next thirty minutes or else we’ll have to resort to takeout or delivery. I’m starved—”
Her words were cut as the kitchen door swung open and Helga strode in, draped in a raincoat speckled with water droplets and muddy boots that were actively leaving a trail across Naomi’s immaculate kitchen floor.
She squeezed between us and said, “Verdammtes altes verrostetes Boot!” in a low grumble of German grouchiness.
Naomi’s body recoiled, shoulders shot back, and her eyes widened, taking in the sight of dirt-melting boots and a lifeless fish with glassy, unblinking eyes.
Oh, she looked two seconds away from imploding. I wanted to laugh.
“Miss Naomi, I’m so sorry for being late,” Helga said. “I went hiking in the mountains after I finished cleaning the house.”
Naomi frowned, her eyes raking over Helga. “You went for a hike in the rain?”
“But it hasn’t rained all day,” I added.
“Not here, but in the mountain lake, yes!” Helga said.
Naomi’s mind seemed to whirl. “Verdammtes altes…damned old rusted boat?” Then she muttered under her breath, shooting Helga a look of disbelief. “When you mentioned Zürich-style sliced fish for dinner, I figured you’d be going to the market like everyone else. You hiked up the mountain to fish our dinner?”
Helga smiled wide, pink cheeks tight. “Ja.”
She disentangled herself from her coat and shook like a wet dog, sending water droplets everywhere, droplets that no doubt reached Naomi.
They certainly got me.
I stepped back, dusting off my salwar kameez.
“Dinner in twenty minutes!” Helga announced.
Naomi blinked. “All right.” She wiped her cheek. The corners of her mouth twitched. “Never mind respect for your employer while you’re at it.” She pulled a kitchen rag with a yank and started dabbing the front of her cashmere jumper as she continued mumbling, “I’m only the one who writes your checks.”
For a moment, she seemed to grapple with the reality of her gorgeous kitchen being turned into a fishmonger’s stall.
Earlier that day, I’d wandered through the house, giving myself an unsupervised tour. True to Sid’s words, Naomi’s place was a hidden gem tucked in Geneva’s countryside. Everything here was immaculate.
Massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The furniture was a master class in modern minimalism: clean, precise—an aesthetic stopping just shy of cold. But you have to understand—that mountain view was everything.
By the living area, an indoor zen garden sat behind a low pane of glass: raked gravel, moss, a small maple tree, river stones, and a narrow sheet of water slipping down a dark rock into a shallow pool. The low, steady trickle was the only thing in the house that didn’t seem afraid to relax.
Her walls displayed original art, pieces by Hirst and Banksy among them.
But it was the centerpiece that took my breath away: a nude painting, Amrita Sher-Gil’s Self-Portrait as a Tahitian—bold and unflinching. It hinted at something deeper. A taste for the daring beneath all that control.
In the dining area sat a solid wood table and vibrant designer chairs of different colors. It was an unexpected splash of life, breaking the room’s restraint but somehow fitting in.
Upstairs, the guest room assigned to me was in that same unfussy contemporary style. The Poliform bed, clean lines, and the en-suite. Strangely, I’d chosen similar fixtures for my London house.
I had run my hand along the countertops, finding it funny in a sort of sad way. As though this was a space we might both comfortably inhabit, if only Naomi wanted me here.
We sat at the dinner table, both facing a plate of vegetables and lean fish that looked as white as the winters probably were out here.
Naomi unfolded a napkin on her lap. “I hope grilled suits you,” she said. “I’ve heard only praise about this dish. And thanks to Helga’s adventurous spirit, we get to try it fresh off the ‘damned old rusting boat’ as she called it.”
I glanced down at the plate, then back up at her. “It looks… very healthy.”
We ate in silence. The only sounds were the clinking of cutlery and the song of crickets outside.
Naomi peeled the skin off her fish with precise, unhurried strokes. “So,” she said at last, “how was your day? Managed to explore the house?”
“It’s lovely,” I said, nudging a piece of vegetable around my plate. “Very spacious.”
Her mouth curved, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I am pleased.”
I sensed the edge in her voice.
Well, this is awkward.
I scratched the back of my neck. “And your day?”
Naomi took a sip of wine. “Busy as always. Calls, emails, you know how it is.”
I nodded, trying another bite of the fish, but my stomach protested, my glass of Pinot Blanc untouched.
I set the fork down, heat prickling my skin. Why am I suddenly so hot?
She stared at me.
“Sorry. I’m not used to…such light dinners,” I said.
Naomi raised a brow.
…
That was supposed to stay in my head.
Thankfully I didn’t say unseasoned.
“Oh? What are you used to?” There was a slight challenge in her voice.
I hesitated. It would’ve been rude to say: dal, pulao, delicious, buttery curries, maacher jhol—roti! Because compared to this sad fish…
Oh God.
I brought my folded knuckles to my lips and suppressed a belch. “Just… different.”
Naomi tilted her head, a faint curiosity in her eyes, but thank God she didn’t press further.
“Well, you’ll find everything here is different.”
I nodded and forced a smile as we continued eating.
“Right,” I managed—
I shifted in the chair when bile squirmed up my throat.
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you all right? You look a little…” She gestured vaguely at my face.
“Excuse me, I need to—oh—”
I bolted from the table, hand over my mouth. Thank God the nearest loo was on the lower floor.
Inside, I leaned over the sink.
No. I couldn’t be sick. Not here. Not now! Not when Naomi could hear—
I barely made it before my stomach heaved and emptied itself.
Out of breath, I moved to the sink again and splashed water on my face. What the hell is happening?
I took a deep breath in through my nose, then exhaled slowly through my mouth. Perhaps all this tension with Naomi?
Yes, that must be it.
There was a soft knock on the door.
I could almost picture Naomi’s hesitation on the other side.
“Saanya? Are you all right?”
I took a moment to steady myself, but even my hands were shaking.
“Yes. I’m okay. I’m fine.”
Just splendid.
NAOMI
Fifteen Hours Earlier.
My non-negotiable 4:45 a.m. routine—whether Pilates in New York or running in Geneva’s peaceful silence—was my fortress. Even Ethan didn’t get access to that.
But today my mental void was filled with the sudden intrusion of an unexpected image: Saanya.
It began when I reached for the water carafe by my bed and found nothing.
Incompetence.
This was exactly why leaving Allison behind had been a mistake. It only took one slip-up for everything else to crumble.
Helga had been thoroughly briefed:
Fresh water by my bed—missing.
Specific coffee variety.
Two protein- and vegetable-dominant meals each day.
Immaculately clean house, bedsheets, and towels.
Absolutely no interruptions.
But when I headed to the kitchen for caffeine triage, I found everything in disarray: a spoon carelessly left on the counter, scattered coffee grounds, and a misaligned knife block that made my eye twitch. Trivial to most. To me, it was an affront.
As Saanya turned—oblivious—my irritation found an outlet. Her long black hair was loosely braided, and she wore a salwar kameez that seemed so casual, so relaxed that the tension simmering within me finally spilled over.
It was petty, I know. But she was the reason for this entire mess. Not just the kitchen, but me being in Switzerland when I should have been closing the Thera Corp deal. I had worked on this for months!
Still, I left it, and while on my way to take a bath, the sound of an incoming video call lured me into my office.
I saw my chief financial officer’s face on the screen.
“Talk to me, Mark.”
“It’s done. Our access to Thera Corp’s data room has been granted. The team is actively reviewing.”
“Good. I want a comprehensive breakdown of their assets and liabilities. Schedule a team meeting in forty minutes. And have the preliminary offer ready.”
“It’s ready. But it’s aggressive—”
“Perfect.”
I squeezed my stress ball, staring at the verdant Swiss landscape outside my office window. “Make them feel the heat.”
“What if they backtrack?”
“It is your job to prevent that from happening. It is why I left you in charge, Mark.”
“Right.”
My phone dinged.
ETHAN AUG 15, 6:00 AM
Putting the fear of God into someone this morning?
How did he—know?
I wasn’t keen on paranoia, but still, I glanced around as I typed.
NAOMI AUG 15, 6:02 AM
What?
ETHAN AUG 15, 6:02 AM
Everyone knows how you carve your legacy, babe. You know, right into your minions’ flesh.
NAOMI AUG 15, 6:03 AM
I beg your pardon?
ETHAN AUG 15, 6:03 AM
By the way, a magazine article just referred to you as the female Edward Lewis from Pretty Woman.
ETHAN AUG 15, 6:07 AM
It was a joke, Naomi. Though the article is real. But don’t worry it’s all praise from some woman reporter. She must be a lesbian or something, she sounded so smitten with you. Anyway, how’s Vienna?
At least he still thought I was in Austria. I exhaled, relieved he wasn’t somehow looking through a peephole.
But an article?
Throughout my career, I’d been the target of lame headlines—idle news reporters recycling the same stories. I stared at the phone screen. “The female Edward Lewis from Pretty Woman.” It was hardly an insult, aside from the implication that I picked women off the streets.
Which made me think of Saanya—not that she bore any resemblance to the reference.
I wasn’t fond of strangers in my space, but she wasn’t a stranger. She just didn’t feel familiar anymore. She had grown into a woman with grace in her movements. Her long dark hair framed a face more defined with age, and a softness to her eyes pulled you in despite everything.
Why did her presence unsettle me so much?
Had I been too harsh earlier? Hardly. She had it coming with that mess. Though the look on her face when I’d called her out…
“Ugh, forget it.”
“The meeting?” Mark’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Should I postpone, then?”
“No! No. Make sure the team is ready.”
I ended the call and went to get ready for my meeting. Now wasn’t the time for distractions. Not from Ethan, and certainly not from Saanya.
I sat in my chair, scanning the mosaic of faces on my computer screen. My team was working from home. Normally, I wouldn’t allow such a casual setup, but Allison had convinced me to compromise since they now had to wake up at such an ungodly hour.
Just as I was about to dive into the agenda, my phone screen lit up.
ETHAN CALLING…
It was 2:40 a.m. in New York. Why is he awake?
I silenced the call.
“Good morning, everyone. Thoughts on Thera Corp now that we have data-room access?”
