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 wasone 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 wecan’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 ofmy 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 becomefriends 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’mextremely 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 hereally 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’tbelieve 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.
Priya was engaged. My sister, who was five years younger than me and had, up until she met Ben, insisted she “didn’t believe in tying herself down to any one person,” was engaged.
The sourness sharpened into something more acrid.
“Are you okay?” Ayana asked. I looked up to find her and Sloane staring at me with concerned frowns. “You’re a little pale.”
“I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “Priya’s engaged.”
“Your sister? Oh my God! That’s amazing.” Ayana faltered, obviously picking up on my distress. “Itis amazing.
Right?”
“Of course it is.” I upped the wattage of my smile until my cheeks hurt. “I’m surprised, that’s all. I didn’t—we didn’t think it would happen so soon. They’ve only been dating for
six months.”
I was happy for my sister. Truly.
But a secret, shameful part of me resented her for reaching that milestone before me. It wasn’t a competition, yet I felt like I’d fallen behind.
No one would let me forget it either. If my mom had been insufferable with her matchmaking before, Priya’s engagement would send her into overdrive. I dreaded finding out what she had in store for me now that I was her last single daughter left standing.
“Hey, Luna.” Xavier came up beside us, breaking the tension. He kissed Sloane on the cheek, and despite the cramp in my stomach, I couldn’t help but smile at the way her entire body softened at the sight of him.
With his smoldering dark looks and plethora of tattoos, Xavier looked like the ultimate bad boy until he smiled.
Those dimples of his could melt even the iciest heart.
He bestowed those dimples on me a minute later. “So, I hear you need a proper date for your cousin’s wedding.
Someone who’ll blow everyone else away.”
“I do, but I can find one on my own. You don’t need to… you know.” I gestured vaguely around us.
“Oh, it’s no problem.” Xavier’s grin widened. He appeared unusually thrilled about the situation. “I’d bedelighted to set you up. I already have someone in mind.”
That was fast. “Who—”
“Who are you trying to set up now, Castillo?”
My smile vanished.
Sebastian joined our group, dressed down but irritatingly gorgeous in jeans and a black shirt. He greeted Ayana and Sloane warmly but didn’t acknowledge me.
I wanted to crawl under a rock when Xavier said, “We’re helping Maya find a date for her cousin’s wedding.”
Heat scorched my neck and chest. Sebastian was never going to let me live this down.
“Really?” His gaze flicked toward me for a split second.
“Interesting.”
I braced myself for a taunt, a snarky comment, anything, but it never came.
I blinked, thrown by Sebastian’s uncharacteristic terseness. That was it? He wasn’t going to give me shit for needing help to find a date? What was wrong with him?
I almost reached over to check if he had a fever, but Xavier slung an arm around his shoulder and saved me from my own impulse. “We should pair her with Killian. He’s always down for a good party.”
“Killian Katrakis?” Ayana perked up. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of him. He’d be perfect!”
“Heis really good-looking,” Sloane mused. “Not as good- looking as you, of course,” she added when Xavier shot her a wounded look. She patted him on the shoulder like he was a golden retriever instead of a six-foot-plus billionaire. “But Killian could work. What do you think, Maya? You’re acquainted with him, right?”
“Sure. We know each other,” I said with some wariness.
Killian Katrakis was the CEO of a major electronics
conglomerate. Gorgeous, single, and richer than God, he was one of the city’s most sought-after bachelors. There was an ongoing bet amongst the single (and not-so-single) socialites in New York to see who could lock him down first.
So far, no one had gotten even close.
“Great! We’ll give him a call.” Xavier’s dimples flashed again. “Right, Seb?”
A muscle feathered in Sebastian’s jaw. “We aren’t doing anything,” he said coolly. “I’ll leave the matchmaking to you.
I’m not interested in doomed endeavors.”
“Fine.” Xavier appeared undeterred by the brushoff. In fact, he almost looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Don’t worry, Maya. I got you. Be back soon.” He grabbed a bemused Sloane and dragged her to another part of the club.
“I’ll be back too. Restroom,” Ayana elaborated. She winked at me and disappeared into the crowd.
And then there were two.
Sebastian and I eyed each other. His hair was more tousled than usual, and there was a bandage wrapped around his thumb. It hadn’t been there last week.
“Here I thought you’d be in the office,” he drawled. “Did you call me from the club earlier? That’s sad.”
The urge to ask about his bandage disappeared beneath a comfortingly familiar avalanche of annoyance. “I called you from happy hour, and that’s because I needed the alcohol to make talking to you bearable.”
His lips curved. “I’d find that more believable if we hadn’t
hadmany conversations sober, Sal.”
I hated that he was right.
A specific memory rose, unbidden, like an old ghost emerging from a long sleep.
Boarding school. The hushed silence of the library. The faint, distinctive smell of old books, like dry wood mixed with sweet vanilla.
And Sebastian and I, cooped up there so late during
finals that we were the only ones left. We were wired from too much caffeine and delirious from too little sleep, and we would stay there long after midnight, our conversations meandering from the function of cells to debates about art, literature, and philosophy. We’d fall asleep arguing, and… I blinked away the memory before it sank its claws into
me.
That was then; this is now.
“Many conversations, yes. Many conversations I’ve enjoyed? Not so much,” I said, recovering.
A smirk played around the corners of his mouth. “Stock’s up day over day this past week,” he said, abruptly changing subjects. “Good job.”
“Are you so obsessed that you’re stalking my company’s performance?”
His expression flickered before it smoothed again. “It’s the first rule of business, Sal. Always keep a close eye on your competition.”
“We operate in completely different fields.” They were both food-focused, sure, but there was a vast difference between frozen foods and gourmet restaurants.
“I’m not talking about our companies.”
My eyes flew to his.
There it was.
We’d never said it out loud, but we’d both known from the start that it’d never been about work, or school, or who got the last word in a student debate.
It was about him and me. Always had been, always would be.
The half-dozen drinks I’d consumed earlier hit me all at once.
I set my glass on the counter, my stomach queasy. Ayana hadn’t returned from the restroom, and Sloane and Xavier were nowhere in sight.
I was forced to stand there like a bug under a microscope and participate in this endless back-and-forth we’d had
going on for decades.
On a normal day, I’d relish the opportunity to try to take Sebastian down. But between the stress of the past week, the news of my sister’s engagement, and that stupid smirk on his face, I was suddenly, completelyover it.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said. Fire licked against my ribcage and burned away any filters I might’ve had.
“Thereis no competition between us. You’re smart, I’ll give you that. And sometimes you win over me. But I will always work harder than you, and care more than you, andfeel more than you. You can collect as many accolades as you want, Sebastian, but they’re as empty as everything else in your life. You want those wins so you can say you have them, but you don’t actually give a shit about them. I can’t be in competition with someone whose heart isn’t in the race. So tell me, who’s the real winner here?”
I wasn’t conscious of what I was saying; I didn’t even know where the words came from. But they were out there, and I couldn’t take them back.
My heart pounded as Sebastian’s eyes pierced mine. He hadn’t so much as twitched during my rant, and his gaze was eerily calm.
“Is that what you think?” he said, so softly I shouldn’t have heard it over the synchronized pounding of my heart and the music.
But I did. Every word. They snuck inside me and twisted something deep in my chest.
I swallowed past the sudden tightness in my throat. “It’s what I know.”
Those cool amber eyes darkened. The air pulsed with subtle danger, and thesomething in my chest scrabbled for a foothold.
“Disappointing.” Sebastian stepped back, his face wiped of emotion. “I expected more from you.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he turned and walked away. “Check your email.”
I was left standing alone at the bar, my pulse thundering.
The queasiness in my stomach coiled into a tight knot.
I hated that this had happened twice in one week—him walking off and leaving me at a loss for words.
I especially hated the prickle of guilt inside me.
I’d told the truth. Other people were too afraid or too in awe of Sebastian to be honest, but that had never been a problem for us. We held up a mirror to each other’s faults.
So he shouldn’t be hurt by what I’d said, and I shouldn’t care how he felt about it.
Still, I couldn’t shake the sense that I’d crossed some sort of invisible line as I opened my email. His message sat at the top of my inbox, and the knot in my stomach cinched painfully tight when I read through it.
It was a response to the product launch ideas I’d sent earlier. He’d marked them up with his own notes and observations. They were witty, insightful, and dammit, they made my proposals stronger. A lot stronger.
I’d emailed him at the Tipsy Goat, which meant it’d taken him less than an hour to read and edit all eight pages.
The prickle of guilt hardened into splintering shame.
I shoved my phone into my bag and searched the crowd for a head of tousled dark hair, but he was nowhere to be seen.