“Ninety-ten,” Kai said after a begrudging pause. “If you saw her with a nail gun, you’d understand why.”
Killian had been quiet this whole time, but he shook his head now with visible disgust. “This is why I’ll never marry,” he said. “It sounds like a nightmare.”
“You’ll never marry because you’re emotionally constipatedand have unresolved trauma that prevents you from forming meaningful relationships with the opposite sex,” Xavier said, drawing stares from everyone except Vuk, who appeared to have completely disassociated from the conversation. “Sloane’s new client is a famous relationship expert,” Xavier clarified. “He has a new book coming out. I’ll send you a copy.”
“No, thanks.” Killian grimaced. “I’d rather be emotionally constipated.”
The topic shifted to the Legacy Ball, an ultra-exclusive gala that was returning to New York after years of being held in other cities. It wouldn’t be back until the year after next, but the city was already buzzing about its return.
“Gentlemen, good evening.” Maya’s grandmother approached us, decked out per usual in enough jewels to make the Louvre weep. After everyone said hello, she turned to me. “Sebastian, darling. Can we speak privately?”
“Of course.” I set my drink down and followed her into the hall, ignoring my friends’ curious stares and whispers. For a group of grown men, they were nosier than a pack of raccoons digging through an unlocked cooler.
“I need your help,” Maya’s grandmother said once we were alone. “I was in the conservatory earlier and lost one of my diamond earrings. I had to swap them out for a new pair.” She touched the teardrop-shaped sapphires dangling from her lobes. “Could you be a dear and find it for me? I’d go myself, but my eyes aren’t what they used to be, and everyone else is obviously busy.” She gestured at the ballroom.
I paused, waiting to see if she was joking. Her expression was dead serious. “You want me to… find a missing piece of jewelry for you in the middle of your granddaughter’s birthday party?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.” She patted my hand. “You’ve always been such a dear, and I trust you not to steal the earring if youdo find it. My late husband gifted the pair to me for our ten-year wedding anniversary. They hold a special place in my heart.”
I softened. “Of course, Mrs. Gupta. I’m happy to help.”
It was a little strange that she’d singled me out, but she’d always been eccentric, so I didn’t think much about her request as I headed toward the conservatory.
A velvet rope and a PRIVATE AREA ONLY sign guarded the entrance, but no one stopped me when I slipped under the barricade and into the glass-enclosed space.
I guess the invitees were vetted enough that the Singhs didn’t have to worry about them trespassing.
I made it only a few feet when I realized I wasn’t the only person here. A woman with long dark hair stood by the windows, her head bowed and her back facing me.
Maya.
I walked over, my heartbeat syncing with the echo of my footsteps against the pale oak floors.
The noise drew her out of her trance. She pivoted to face me, her eyes widening with surprise. “Seb? What are you doing here?”
I stopped less than two feet away. “You invited me, remember?”
That earned me an exasperated sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” I allowed myself a small smile. “Your grandmother lost an earring in here. She asked me to help her find it.”
“Of course she did.” Maya muttered something inaudible under her breath.
I silently took her in. We’d skipped our last two meetings since I needed to focus on the recipes, so we hadn’t seen each other in person since the Vermont trip.
I’d hoped the time apart would dull my reaction to her, but I feared it’d only made things worse.
Everything about her hit me all at once—the softness of herskin, the silkiness of her hair, the sweetness of her perfume and the way her gold sequined dress clung to her curves. Every feature was sharper, more vivid, and they delivered a thousand small cuts that were infinitely more agonizing than one large one.
Seeing Maya on a regular basis was tolerable, but after a short break, the experience ofher—her face, her voice, her scent—was so potent it was painful.
I breathed through the ache gripping my chest and let my shoulders fall into their usual, casual stance. “The question is, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out there celebrating?” I nodded at the exit.
“I am. I will. I just… needed a moment alone.” She smoothed over her verbal stumble with impressive quickness.
“Stressed?”
“No.”
