“You don’t seem that worried.”
“Pardon?”
“You haven’t hired any security,” Saffi noted, gesturing around them. “And you were practically herding your assistant out of here. Most people in your shoes would consider turning themselves in for witness protection.”
It was, infuriatingly, a good point.
“I can’t afford security—”
“I know that’s not true,” Saffi cutin.
“It is,” Dimple said, “a child’s notion to assume that all actors are millionaires.”
“Can we drop the pretenses for a minute?” Saffi asked, irritated.
“I wasn’t aware that we were using any.”
Saffi huffed, her breath displacing a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. “Fine. Help me with the case and I’ll make sure to protect you from the invisible boogeyman you invented.” She waved her hand flippantly.
She had a perpetual air of uninterest about her. Dimple could see it for what it was—rudeness. But the show woman in her saw it as a challenge. Dimple pretended to mull it over as though she hadn’t already made up her mind before the conversation had begun.
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable acting as bait for you,” she said eventually.
Saffi scoffed. If she was surprised that Dimple had caught on to her intentions so quickly, she didn’t show it. “Baitimplies there’s something for you to catch.”
Neither of them were willing to give in. What was the old saying again—unstoppable force, immovable object? Their collision was inevitable, the only question was how cataclysmic the aftermath wouldbe.
“If you’re so certain I’m a killer, then why are you here alone with me?”
“I never said I was afraid of you.”
“Why not?” Dimple pressed.
Saffi raised her brows. “What, are you disappointed?”
“If I were a killer, I’d at least want to be a talented one.”
“You can’t kill me, Kapoor,” Saffi said. “There are only two ways this ends: Either you turn yourself in now or I’ll do it for you later.”
As if it would be that easy. “If you were to kill somebody, all it would take for you to turn yourself in is someone asking you kindly?”
Saffi grinned. “Depends on how kind they were.”
“You could stand to put in a bit more effort, in that case.”
“I guess I wouldn’t know,” Saffi said. “If I killed someone, I wouldn’t be careless enough to be a suspect in the first place.”
Dimple couldn’t help it, she laughed. “You are the last person who should ever be a private investigator.”
“And yet…”
Every hair stood on end, the moment before a lightning strike. And then it was gone. Saffi was turning away, straightening her suit jacket. It was impossible to tell who’d won.
Just as Dimple began wondering if they were truly going to leave things like this, Saffi paused in the entryway. “Last chance,” she said. Her arm was braced against the door, holding it open. It made her appear taller, despite them being the same height.
This was a bluff. Dimple knew Saffi needed her just as much as she needed Saffi. Their stalemate would have to come to an end oneway or another. She glanced down at her phone and considered canceling her appointment.
“Ask me again later,” Dimple said pleasantly.
