CHAPTER 4
Maya
“WERE YOU ON A WORK CALL?”
I returned to my table at the Tipsy Goat to find two pairs of eyes drilling into me—one accusing, one amused.
“No?” It came out more like a question than I’d intended. I bit my lip, my cheeks flushing with guilt. “Okay, yes, but it was one call, and it lasted, like, five minutes tops.”
“Maya.” Ayana groaned. “We agreed this would be a work-free night. It’s Friday! We’re young, we’re hot, and we’re… well, we’re not all single, but the guys aren’t here, so we should have some girls’ night fun. Which we can’t do”—she reached for my phone—“if you insist on being a buzzkill.”
I held the phone away from her and laughed when she scowled at me. Even when she was frowning, she was the most beautiful person in the bar. It was the perk of being a famous supermodel.
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” I promised. I put my phone in my bag and held up my hands. “See? Out of sight, out of mind.”
Mollified, Ayana pivoted her attention to Sloane. The blonde arched a perfectly shaped brow in response.
“No,” she said. “My phone remains on the table.”
“Look on the bright side.” I patted Ayana on the shoulder. “At least it’s not glued to her hand anymore. Progress.”
Sloane Kensington was New York’s publicist supreme and a total badass. She was also a notorious workaholic. She’d represented my family for years (our personal brand, not our corporate one), and I remembered the days when she’d toted her phone around like it was her precious firstborn.
Old Sloane would’ve never put it down on the table, but New Sloane—aka slightly more relaxed, head-over-heels-in-love Sloane—only rolled her eyes good-naturedly when Ayana giggled at her expense.
“Okay, one last thing about work, and then we can talk about something else.” Ayana raised her martini. “A toast to Maya, who turned a disaster into a huge PR coup. Congrats, babe. I knew you could do it.”
I blushed, my insides fizzing as I clinked my glass against hers and Sloane’s. “We’re not totally out of the woods yet, but at least I know I won’t be jobless,” I joked.
My family might own Singh Foods, but my dad was big on everyone pulling their weight. He’d fired one of my cousins after they fucked up a report during their first week on the job, and he’d never hired them back. I didn’t get special treatment just because I was his daughter.
“You could run your own PR agency,” Sloane said. “Put me out of my job.”
“Please. I know a bit about PR, but I’m more of a marketing girl.” People often conflated the two, but they were pretty different. “And I would be terrified to go up against you.”
She laughed but didn’t refute me. Sloane knew exactly how good she was at her job. It was one of the things I loved about her. She didn’t fake humility.
“PR, marketing. Doesn’t matter.” Ayana waved an elegant hand in the air. “What matters is that your stock’s up and shareholders are happy, which means we need another round of drinks.” She signaled our server, who immediately came over to take our order and whisk away our empty glasses.
My blush deepened from a combination of alcohol and pleasure. After a week of crisis-management meetings and knots in my stomach, happy hour with my friends felt like sinking into a warm bath after a long trek in the cold.
I’d known Sloane forever, but we hadn’t become friends friends until recently.
Ayana was the one who brought us together.
We’d met at a Valhalla Club event last year, and we’d instantly hit it off.
She was also Sloane’s client, so our trio had evolved organically.
We often hung out with Sloane’s three best friends too, but they were busy with their husbands tonight, so it was just us.
“Do you actually read the business section, or did Vuk give you the rundown before you came?” I teased.
Ayana was a fashion girl. Wall Street news bored her to death.
She shrugged, her eyes brightening at the mention of her boyfriend. “Is there a difference? He always gives me what I need.”
“Mmhmm. I bet he does.”
“Maya!” She shoved at my arm, her voice shaded with embarrassment. “Take your mind out of the gutter.”
“I didn’t say anything!” I protested with a laugh. “You were the one who took it there.”
“Whatever,” she said, but I saw a smile threatening to form. “I can neither confirm nor deny any details about my sex life. All I can say is…” She took a delicate sip of her drink, her eyes sparkling. “I’m extremely happy.”
Sloane and I shrieked like schoolgirls as Ayana’s grin broke free. She shook her head and covered her face with her hands, ignoring our demands for more information.
She and Vuk were so private, but it made sense.
Vuk Markovic was the most intimidating person I’d ever met.
The huge, scarred billionaire was a notorious recluse, and he attended most public functions with the loving reluctance of someone indulging his girlfriend.
He scared the shit out of me, but he treated Ayana like a queen, so I was over the moon for her—even if I, personally, was too terrified to date someone like him.
“Speaking of the men in our lives, how are your blind dates going?” Sloane asked after we settled down. “Find a winner yet?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Hardly. Dating in New York is like trying to find a diamond in a sea of crap. Shitty and not fun.”
“You’ll find your person,” Ayana said, her tone consoling as our server brought out our new drinks. “If you want to, that is.”
“I do. I just…” I blew out a sigh. “I want to find them on my own terms, you know? Being forced to go on a date with someone doesn’t exactly scream ‘romantic’ from the get-go.”
I’d tried to argue with my mom about it, but there was no fighting her on stuff like this.
She loved to meddle in her children’s lives, and I was the only single one among my sisters.
That meant I’d have a neon target on my back until I got married and popped out some grandchildren for her to dote on.
My eyes strayed to my bag. My phone was in there, along with my keys, wallet, lip gloss, and the stupid chocolate bonbon Sebastian gave me.
I wasn’t going to eat it, but throwing away premium chocolate seemed like a huge waste. What if I had a major crash out one day, and that bonbon was the only thing standing between me and a total meltdown?
It was best to keep it with me for emergencies (even if it came from the devil incarnate). Just in case.
“We’ll find someone for you,” Sloane said. “I’ll ask Xavier for help. Eligible bachelors come through the Vault every week. He has to know a few who’d be a good fit.”
I brought my attention back to her, my eyes rounding in horror. “What? No! That’s so embarrassing. I can’t ask your boyfriend to set me up.”
“Is it more embarrassing than having your mother set up your dates for you?” she asked pointedly.
Ayana giggled.
“Low blow,” I grumbled.
“You know what? I’m texting him right now.” Sloane’s fingers flew over her phone. “It’s girls’ night, but you need a date for your cousin’s wedding next year, right? I guarantee we can find you someone better than those generic finance bros your mother loves.”
“Actually, she likes doctors. But I see your point,” I quickly amended when Sloane glared at me. “Text away.”
“Already done.” She tossed a wad of cash on the table and stood, her expression determined. “Let’s go. We’re finding you a date.”
Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the Vault.
The exclusive nightclub was located in a former bank vault, hence the name, and for most people, it was harder to get into than Fort Knox.
But since Sloane was the owner’s girlfriend and Vuk was a silent partner in the club, we received red-carpet treatment from the moment we exited our cab.
Our personal escort whisked us past security and up to the VIP floor, where the bartender promptly served us a round of signature drinks, on the house.
Ayana wasted no time in scouting out the crowd. “What about him?” she shouted over the music. She gestured toward a tall, good-looking guy with auburn hair. “He’s cute.”
“Yes, and he’s wearing a Patagonia vest in a club.”
“You have a point. I can’t believe the bouncer let that fly.” She pursed her lips. “Okay, what about him? The guy with—oh, never mind. That’s either his girlfriend or someone whose ass he really likes grabbing.”
I let Ayana have her fun, though I was almost certain I wouldn’t find what I was looking for in a nightclub.
Sloane stopped texting Xavier to nod at my phone. “Should you get that?”
I glanced down to see the screen lighting up every other second with a new text.
“It’s my family group chat,” I said. “I bet it’s Priya. She’s been bombarding us with vacation pictures all day.”
Whereas Neha was the sporty, uptight one, and I was the smart-mouthed, type-A one, Priya was the hippie free spirit. She wanted nothing to do with the family business and made a living painting portraits of other people’s beloved pets.
Secretly, I thought she was fleecing her customers because no dog portrait was worth a thousand dollars, but she was too bubbly and earnest for anyone to say no to.
“Last I heard, she joined an artists’ commune or something. Or maybe it’s a cult.” I clicked into the group chat while Ayana continued my husband hunt. I was half afraid she was going to drag some poor schmuck over and lock us in a closet until we kissed. “I’ll just mute—”
My sentence broke off abruptly.
The first thing I saw in the chat was a photo of Priya and her boyfriend beaming at the camera.
The second thing I saw was the glittering diamond on her finger.
PRIYA
Ben and I got engaged!!!!
A string of congratulatory texts ensued, followed by a scolding from our mom, who couldn’t believe that Priya broke the big news over WhatsApp instead of in person.
I stared at the photo until the ring blurred into a taunting mass of white and platinum. Sourness stung the back of my tongue.