Ravi pulled the wrinkles from his rumpled sleeves and Sora could only watch in wonder as he put himself to rights. The man who'd collapsed into her chair was receding and with him her friend. This was the heir apparent of Manendra Misra appearing, this was Jivika's son, put together and well-made. The tiredness that downed his posture was slipped into the inside pocket of his Armani suit like a phone number on a napkin he'd dial later on. He was becoming the man he allowed other people to see and shelving the man he'd shown her. The parts that are wounded are put away, not fit for public consumption. The two of them were so much alike beneath the surface it beggared belief.

He stood and stretched like it as a new day.

"Are you going to be okay?"

He smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. "I'm always okay."

Sora wanted to believe that just as she'd believed the vow he'd made her only weeks ago. But for all of Sora's newfound faith, she couldn't make it stretch quite that far.

"Would you tell me if you weren't?"

"If you'd tell me."

"Deal."

They shook on it, and Ravi drew her into one of his leaving hugs that always seemed to say more than goodbye. She held on tight, thinking of all the ways she'd come to rely on his presence.Don't ever disappear on us again. She couldn't say that to him yet, maybe one day...

"Take the corporate world by storm, Sora Gallegos," he murmured in her ear.

"I'll try."

He tucked his face into her neck and she might have held on for years had she a modicum less self-control.

"You will. I believe in you."

"I believe in you, too."

Then she let go and Ravi departed with his subtle smile and world-weariness to leave Sora to hers. Ravi had brought shades light and dark into Sora's life just by sharing it, and she found she didn't mind the contradiction, because she was sure Ravi wouldn't abandon her to face the darkness alone.

Ravi lasted little more than a day before he was in her office again. After the drubbing she'd taken from the Board of Directors this morning, because someone had leaked them the Miscavige piece (no guesses who), she was all in favor of a friendly invasion—provided her sister wasn't the sole topic of conversation. Martyrdom had its limits.

"Before you ask, I got bored at work and I wanted to see how you felt about lunch at Café Milan. The pasta primavera is in fine form this time of year."

"I have a meeting with the department heads at 2:30."

Ravi checked his watch, a dark brow rose dubiously at what he found. "It's just after one now. Were you planning to personally hunt and kill a wild turkey to dress the pasta? If we leave that to the cook, I think you should make it back in time to make your meeting."

"Funny!"

"I try."

She rolled her eyes. All the men in her life moonlighted as stand-up comics. "Right, what really brings you to HMG?"

"I wasn't lying. My office is bleeding the life out of me. I'm suffering from a terminal case of ennui." He draped himself dramatically over her chair, a happy contrast to his depressive mood of yesterday. She fought a smile; she knew better by now than to encourage him.

"You sound like Yelena." Her niece was as dramatic as one would expect a beautiful twenty-year-old girl to be. The trust fund she had at her disposal only heightened the melodrama.

"S, you're my only hope for not to getting trapped in an endless loop of meetings about cheap fabrics I wouldn't dress a dog in to make clothes I wouldn't dress a dog in if I hated it. I don't know how much longer I can hold my tongue before I offend somebody. Put me out of their misery."

He was serious.

"Okay. You're coming out of your skin. When did you get so restless?"

Ravi threw up his hands. "I was my own person in Rome. I worked till I was tired. Kam and I tag-teamed the top seat at International. It—this is an adjustment and I haven't made it yet. I don't know how to make it. It was leave the office or risk getting fired when I called somebody an idiot." Kamran Misra, Ravi's younger brother, was the heir apparent at House Misra International, a self-imposed exile for the son who would never rank number one at home.

"That cinches it: we're going to lunch."

"Thank God."

They took Ravi's Spyder rather than the chauffeured car she preferred to get around. He was a perfect gentleman when it came to everything save letting her choose the radio station. They bickered about it all the way to Café Milan.

He opened the door to let help her out at the valet entrance. "I'm just saying, a man's radio is his domain. Give me some time to get used to this idea before you start changing the settings."

"Please, I didn't change anything. I pushed a button and you nearly crashed the car trying to stop me. What is it with men and their cars?"

He rested a hand on her back, signaling for the maitre d' to show them to the table reserved for Misra company business.

"Not all men," he murmured against her ear, a touch of laughter keeping her from snorting in disgust.

"Don't make me nauseous, I haven't eaten yet."

They were diverted from that disastrous detour when they were seated were seated and given a chance to order.

"This reminds me that I missed breakfast. Tommy was fussy and I opted to spend some extra time with him before I came for my board meeting."

"Time well spent."

"It was. My stomach, nevertheless, vehemently disagrees." Sora pilfered a piece of loaded three-cheese garlic bread from the complimentary tray their server had brought them with their drinks. She had a weakness for this stuff and would happily subsist on it for the rest of her days, her heart and cholesterol levels permitting.

Ravi took a couple of slices for himself when he noticed how steadily she was eyeing the lot of it. Probably for the best since she had no intention of sharing beyond what was polite.

"Can I ask you something? You can tell me to mind own affairs if it's too personal."

Sora chewed thoughtfully until she'd swallowed her current mouthful. "With that terrifying opening, how could I possibly refuse? Fire away."

Ravi folded his hands together on the lace tablecloth.

"Why did you keep his name? He's old news, he's history. Why not go back to just being Sora Gallegos?"

She hadn't seen that coming. "I assume you like me better with my maiden name."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to say anything. You look constipated anytime someone so much as alludes to my ex-husband." Sora sipped her tea. It wasn't a hard question, it was even one she'd thought of herself a few times. Why not reset herself, reclaim her old name to reclaim her old life. The simplest answer was that she couldn't. Time could not be undone and it was folly to pretend otherwise. "I have many reasons, the most important of which are Tommy and my job. Himura is Tommy's name."

Ravi narrowed his eyes in thought. "Didn't he take your name as a middle name?"

"He did, yeah. It's funny you remember that. I took my mother's family name, Yoshida, as a second name and my father's as my last name. When it came time to name my son I couldn't see doing otherwise."

"Hana was the same way."

"Say what you will about my sisters and I, despite our disagreements, we stand united on family tradition." She laughed a little. "It's a Filipino thing. Tommy is a Gallegos as much as he is a Himura, but Himura is the name he'll be known for, so it's a name I'll carry until I have a reason to do otherwise."

They were interrupted momentarily by their server arriving with their food.

Sora picked through her penne arrabiata as Ravi savored his primavera as promised. "Work's part of it, too. I came by my position by some...questionable methods." He laughed and she grinned, triumphantly. She and her former sister-in-law Tracy were really very clever when they put their heads together. "There are people who don't trust me and who may be actively working against me because they believe I stole this company from its founding family—forget the fact that I had inside help. Keeping the Himura name keeps the wolves at bay as it signifies that I am nominally, if no longer legally, part of the so-called Himura Dynasty."

"Politics. You can't escape 'em."

"Oh, how I've tried." She'd run out of descriptions for how futile her situation was. "HMG is going to be Tommy's someday, but I need to be there to make it happen. If staying long enough to ensure my son receives his inheritance means keeping the name his father gave me, so be it. It's a fair price to pay for what my son means to me."

"You're too good."

A pedestal like the one Ravi was determined to set her on helped no one. Only Sora had never been raised on a pedestal before; she was just getting the chance to discover how good it could feel.

"I'm working on it. I'm also stealing your extra garlic bread if you don't eat it right now."

Ravi turned his plate around so that said bread was closer to her side of the table. "Help yourself."

"You're a prince."

"Only for the right women."

"Duly noted."

+++

January was filled with afternoons like this and some evenings just as fine. At the end of the year, when all was said and done, Sora would like back on these months and think, January was amazing.

But it had nothing on the days to come.