Chapter 1
NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
HALLOWEEN
The sound was loud enough to bust eardrums; even more so for Reyana, as she lay right in the middle of the aftermath’s shambled mess.
French champagne spread in soft pink rivulets across the parquet floor, like fingers reaching between the shards of broken champagne glasses.
It was an explosion of indulgence gone wrong, she thought, as she sat up, finally noticing she was soaked from top to bottom in the expensive bubbly.
She flung her wet hands, and droplets flew, landing on the handsome masked stranger, whose costume, too, was soaked down the front, as he knelt next to her and asked if she was all right, before helping her to stand up.
Everyone stared. Guests in their elaborate get-ups for the French-themed Halloween masquerade gawked and openly laughed, perhaps mistaking the commotion for another part of the night’s entertainment. She stood frozen in her spot, unsure of how to proceed.
Reyana Sharma loved attention—she’d be the first one to tell anyone that.
Being the younger daughter in her family’s high-achieving South Asian American household practically forced her to be.
But this—the horrified all-eyes-on-her, as if a pariah, and not the underdog who shocks all with her successes—wasn’t ever her intention.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes tightly, as she came to terms with the situation.
“Not a big deal,” she whispered fiercely under her breath.
She was an attention-seeker; one who laughed at the rules and loved to bend them until they completely succumbed to her. So why did this situation feel so on-the-other-end-of-the-spectrum from her normal bullish behavior?
She stood in her painful-to-procure Marie-Antoinette-inspired costume, the soft purple crushed velvet soggy.
The ties of the corset felt a little too tight, as if they were trying to squeeze all the air out of her.
The bottoms of her lavender satin stiletto booties gripped the floor stickily as she shuffled her feet nervously.
She shuddered as every movement made her black fishnet stockings cling and un-cling coolly to her thighs.
“Are you ok, Violette?” the stranger repeated, using the nickname he’d playfully given her earlier that night (which felt like eons ago), and whom she’d in return playfully called Danger.
His deep voice was soft and low, and his grey eyes behind the black masquerade mask were questioning. But the corner of his thick lips twitched. She’d only met him a few hours ago, but she already knew he was trying to hide a smile.
A comfortable warmth spread throughout her in response, making her breath catch in her throat.
It wasn’t the first time that had happened that night, she thought, as they shared a wide-eyed stare.
The wordless expression they exchanged was of two people in cahoots over the wreckage they’d inadvertently caused and were now a part of, and suddenly, she felt less self-conscious.
Giggles bubbled up inside her, and she couldn’t contain them if she wanted to.
After the evening she’d had, of course, it could only be punctuated by this catastrophe, and shit, it was hilarious.
But then Danger’s almost-smile disappeared.
His face, already half covered, appeared as if it retreated even further, as all expression completely vanished.
He looked formidable as he stood taller, stiffly holding his ground.
Like earlier, she wanted to tease him, make him relax, but she didn’t get the chance. Someone grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip and dragged her away from the carnage.
She stumbled over shards of delicate glass, the resounding crunch underfoot making her cringe.
They stopped at the edge of the dance floor, and her on-again, off-again boyfriend (he was definitely off for good at this point), Sameer, held on to her tight as he hissed, “What the hell are you doing here?”
He was freaking out, she decided. Good. Self-satisfaction washed over her; a baptism of “flying fucks” given out freely to whoever inquired. She’d had it with him.
Her smile was indulgent as she stood taller in her heels, making Sameer rage just a little bit further. His eyes were wild as they darted around, his co-workers and clients observing them closely.
Two things about Sameer were to Reyana’s advantage here: first, he was self-conscious as hell about his height.
He wasn’t short, but he wasn’t tall. At five foot nine inches to her five foot seven, he constantly bugged her not to wear her super-tall heels when they were out together, so they were evenly matched.
Tonight, she’d been ready to fall all over herself apologizing for her high-heeled booties because they were the only ones she could find to match her purple costume (plus, as soon as she spied them hiding in the back at her favorite vintage store, she fell in love and was not about to forego thrifting a pair of 1990’s vintage designer boots that happened to magically be only a half size larger than her own shoe size, and were a bargain, because her man had a Napolean complex).
Second, Sameer hated making a scene. It didn’t matter if it was good, bad, unsolicited, or even celebratory; he absolutely hated being the center of attention.
Oop, this ought to be good.
They still hovered near the dance area; the parquet floor already a hazard for anyone rocking shoes like hers, but also where the enormous, glittering champagne glass tower had only moments before stood, in all its fizzy glory.
Reyana shook her head at the idiocy. No tower of any kind should be placed so close to the space reserved for booty-shaking.
She had enough PR experience to know the basics of event mapping and planning.
Clearly, the person who’d made that decision was a certifiable moron or just didn’t care about their job.
“Reyana, are you listening?” Sameer asked, his face blocking the mess, as the waitstaff began cleaning. “I told you I wasn’t going to be here.”
She wrangled her arm away in a huff. “And yet, here you are,” she said impatiently, waving her arms in a dramatic arc.
He grabbed her hand, fully intending to pull her out onto the damning balcony where she’d caught sight of his infidelity, but she stood her ground.
She smiled, feeling her cheeks ache, though her insides were trembling—not with fear—but with heartache.
She had to keep it together. She didn’t want Sameer to see how upset she was.
Her inkling that he didn’t take her seriously—just like her family—was turning out to be true.
And even though he’d fucked up by deceiving her that night, and his no-show antics were beyond tiresome, she still felt the tender heart of a person spurned.
“Nuh-uh, we’re doing this right here,” she spat out.
She’d often thought that his lack of wanting attention versus her need for all eyes on her was an opposites attract kind of thing. Maybe it was at the beginning, but clearly she’d been wrong about them having a chance at a future.
“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth, transforming his anger into a charming smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Still cute.
The thought ran unbidden through her head before she quashed it with, “Remember, he’s a lying snake.”
“So, Hon.” Her tone oozed disgust as she took the lead. She would not let him outwit her and lie again. “Please explain why you are here when you texted me earlier that you couldn’t make it, not even,” she pulled her phone from her purse to check their text exchange, “two hours ago.”
She didn’t tell him the mixture of hurt and disgust she felt at herself with that. He’d been rebuffing her and making excuses for the better part of the last three weeks.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re here, Reya—at my work function.”
“Hell no. You do not get to do the interrogating.” She folded her arms over her chest, the squelch of wet fabric loud to her ears. She looked him up and down in his black suit and stupid, plain orange tie.
Couldn’t the man ever dress up for the occasion, even just a little? She wondered. She’d picked out a matching costume for him when they’d planned to come together. It was a long shot, but she thought he would have at least donned part of it for Halloween.
She waited for his explanation and wondered what excuse he was spinning this time.
Would it be some version of what he’d told her in the past, something that involved work?
She'd know he was lying this time, though. In normal circumstances, when a man behaved like a fool, she might have walked away with her head held high as though the situation hadn’t bothered her in the least …
that is, until she could find a dark corner or closet to rant and cry in, before calling her big sister for a sympathy chat.
This time, she stood her ground. Something gave her a fortified strength—and no, it had nothing to do with the handsome masked stranger witnessing their exchange with curiosity from across the room. Ok, maybe it did a little.
“You got my text; I had to finish work,” her ex said half-heartedly, turning partially away, not meeting her gaze.
“Oh, my bad. ‘Work,’” she air-quoted. “So that’s what we’re calling you being here with another woman, while thinking I’d be home, pining for you to sex-ify me later?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from quivering. “Talk about sloppy seconds.”
Sameer’s brown eyes, the ones always filled with laughter (ones she thought were laughing with her but now had her wondering if they’d always been laughing at her), still didn’t meet hers. He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. “It’s not like that, Reya. She’s part of a work project.”
“Ah,” she said, nodding her head. “That completely explains why you were kissing her … out on the balcony—I thought you were afraid of heights?”
He’d given that as the main reason for not going on a ski trip with some of her friends and their significant others last winter. Had he been lying then, too?
“She kissed me, Reyana.”
Her lips pursed as she continued nodding, her toe tapping the same tempo that her heart raced. “Hm, so why were you grabbing her ass as if you wanted her? Is that a new part of your client relations contract?”
More and more, it was becoming obvious that men could be absolute garbage—not all of them, but this one for sure.
Dare she say he belonged out in the dumpster with the others she’d had the misfortune to be mistreated by?
Very probably so. Why did guys think they could get away with anything?
They were such idiots. And to think she wanted to share her and Sameer’s relationship with her parents (two people who always jested they weren’t sure she was theirs), secretly hoping for a little ounce of the approval they rained down on her big sis.
Because wouldn’t it feel great to get noticed for one of her accomplishments?
Wouldn’t they be proud that she, the family oddball, had landed a match so quintessential it was as if they’d planned it themselves: a good-looking Indian man who held a big job with a big bank?
Someone whose family aligned with theirs in education, background, and finances?
She cursed herself. For about the bajillionth time in her thirty-three years of life, she reminded herself that she didn’t need their approval. Yeah, it might’ve felt good, but she’d never had it before, so why would she expect it ever? She functioned just fine without it.
And this guy … the fucking nerve. Not only lying, but cheating, and getting caught red-handed, which he totally deserved.
At least justice was on her side.
Danger, the masked stranger, still stood watching them from a distance. She hadn’t even glanced his way, but she could feel his eyes on her back, like a weighted blanket, comforting and supportive.
The wispy hairs on her neck stood up as she peeked over her shoulder, confirming he was still there.
The waitstaff swept up the last of the broken glass as he stood by, his expression neutral with his arms folded over his wide chest, his eyes on her.
Immediately, flames licked her cheeks, and the ball that had gotten stuck earlier in her throat, right before the mayhem, mysteriously appeared and lodged itself right back in again.
“Why were you with him earlier, Reya? How do you even know him?” Sameer asked sharply.
“What’s that?” She pulled her gaze away from Danger, turning back to Sameer. “Who? That guy?”
“Yes, Reyana, that guy.”
“Are you saying I’m not allowed to make new friends when you’re not around, but you can when I’m not around?” Her scoff was half-hearted. She was beginning to tire of this argument. She wanted to turn back time to when she and Danger were flirting, before all this happened.
“Don’t be childish, Reyana,” Sameer snapped. And there it was—the tone her family took with her when they deemed her not serious enough to be part of the conversation. “Why him of all people?” Sameer muttered, more to himself than to her.
“What—”
“Hon, let’s go somewhere and talk about this privately?” Sameer insisted all of a sudden, sweetly; the Sameer she thought she knew back in her presence. “At least give me a chance to explain.”
She stared at her soon-to-be-official-ex-boyfriend. His attractive face, big brown eyes, and full lips, which she’d completely fallen head over heels for, looked hurt. His bottom lip actually had the nerve to tremble.
She sighed heavily and threw her hands up in defeat. “Fine.” She could at least listen to his half-baked excuse before she officially dumped him, right? It felt more than right—the dumping him part.
He ushered her toward the entrance, but she turned back around instinctively, wanting to see her handsome stranger one last time. He’d helped her through this clusterfuck, though he probably had no idea how much he’d been of assistance.
Danger was still there, same stance, but his head was cocked to one side, as if assessing everything.
For some reason, she wanted to rush back and throw herself at him, back into his arms. The draw to him was like a hungry bee sensing the salvation of a flower’s tasty pollen nearby.
It was strange, considering she’d just met him and didn’t even know his real name.
Even more bizarre was that she’d never felt this way before.
Tamping down the unexplainable sensation and the shadow of their shared embrace, she lifted her hand in a wave.
She gave him a bright smile to assure him she was all right, before mouthing a ‘thank you’ and blowing a kiss.