Not Since Then

Mira

One would think that being a multimillionaire would make my father give up his miserly habits. But sadly, no luck. I wonder how mom handled him. My face darkened at the thought of mom. I quickly shook away the melancholy feel and got back to work. I checked my schedule. Something I was quite capable and did not need a PA for, by the way.

Hmm. It seems that I have a meeting after lunch. Seems like some art studio wants us as investors for an exhibition they’re planning to conduct. Art. I sighed. That was a long lost dream.

Oh! How I missed my studio ! Maybe this will be my chance..... I put the thought away and focused at my work.

Maybe this investment may not be a bad idea. After all, the art industry is one of the most flexible and rapidly changing one. If this studio, Olympics Arts, manage to get enough popular support, they may actually add a respectable profit to the company's monthly income.

It will be good if their exhibition manage to get a hype. And our revenue will be doubled!

I’ll meet them, I decided. Hopefully they will be good enough to make my father willing to invest. Art investment does cost a lot, though. I sighed. I stood up. I walked out of the office. I nodded to the receptionist, Ameera, on my way out. I went to the nearby restaurant and got lunch. It was a homely cafe run by an Indian brothers. They were in their forties.

"Hello Mira!" The cashier greeted me.

"Hello to you too." I repeated. I was a daily customer. I loves the warm feeling their restaurant gives. It was very hard to find one in a city like Dubai where business and glass paned buildings rules. Though the huge skyscrapers are a part of the reason I love this country. It gives a modern and chic, yet a traditional and cultural vibe. Aan artistic city.

I ordered my usual. A sandwich and coke.

Once I finished eating, I walked back to the office building. VIVEK ENTERPRISES was written boldly on the top. I sighed. I walked back in.

“Ameera?” I called out.

“Yes ma'am.” She replied, raising her black headscarf coloured head.

“Is there an appointment made by a studio named Olympics Arts today?” I asked Ameera.

“Yes, there is. What about them Ma'am? ” she asked.

“I’ll be having an appointment with them. Sent them in.” I told her.

“Umm, but Mr Vivek told me to cancel the appointment.” She said awkwardly.

“When?” I asked.

“As soon as the request came.” She replied.

“Tell them to come. I’ll meet with them.” I told her.

“But Mr Vivek told...” she started but I silenced her with a glare.

“I’m the COO here, not my father.” I told her frostily. She quickly nodded, surprised at my change of tone. I rarely behaved like that.

I turned and walked back. So he knew of my interest in art too. Apparently there is not a single aspect of my life that he was unaware of. I walked into my office. As I sat down, I had a huge craving for a cup of coffee. Maybe getting a PA wouldn’t be a bad idea after all, I thought as I stood up again.

For the next half an hour, I did the paperwork piled on my desk and drank my coffee. Suddenly the phone rang. I took it.

“He is here ma'am.” Ameera's voice told me.

“Who?” I asked confused.

“Ma'am.. ” she hesitated, “Mr Vivek is here.” She said.

Dread filled me. But my father was at the main office, in New York. How on the hell is he here?