“Who’s the target?” he asked in a low whisper that only I could hear.
Pursing my lips, I glared at him. He couldn’t be serious. I answered to no one. Yes, Rich was the closest thing I had to a father, but I wasn’t about to give him the details of anything I was doing.
“Do you think they are going to have good cocktails tonight?”
He frowned. “Make sure I have a visual on you at all times.”
“I hear you.”
I stepped into the coffee shop and approached the bar.
The barista, who knew me, smiled. “What can I get you?”
“Triple shot espresso and an almond biscotti with a strawberry on the side.”
“Here’s your number. We’ll bring it to your table soon.” She handed me a blue card and then pointed to a hallway.
Once I paid for my order, I moved in the direction she pointed. After going down a series of hallways, I came to a dead end. I pressed my card to a picture of a rabbit playing cards and a door opened. On the other side, three men stood, waiting for us to enter.
“Hello, Amir.” I offered my hand to the breathtakingly beautiful man who managed the secret club I was about to enter.
He brushed his lips across my skin. “How are you, Ms. Dayal?”
“Good. Mr. Danberry is expecting me at his table.”
“Yes, he is. He told me to show you in. As always, you know the drill.” Amir gestured to the security personnel who waited to make sure Rich and I were clear of any weapons and electronics before entering the premises.
I smiled inside. If they only knew how easy it was to bypass their precautions if one had the right skills.
One day I’d offer the owners my services to truly rid themselves of electronics and weapons.
I nodded and followed their standard procedure.
Once all the security was cleared, Rich went to his normal spot in one corner of the room and I went to greet the people who were in attendance that I knew. The vibe in this room was completely different than of the gala my uncle had held. Here everyone had secrets and it was an unsaid rule that we kept them.
It kind of reminded me of the movie Fight Club and its mantra, What happens in Fight Club stays in Fight Club.
Anyone who broke the rules suffered the consequences, from the members of the club to the owners. The owners being some of the most dangerous beings on the planet. My research hadn’t garnered the full list of owners, but I was well aware the Kings had their hands in it somewhere.
A small vibration in my clutch gave me the signal I needed to make my way to the ladies’ room. I excused myself from a group of stockbrokers who seemed to always be in attendance whenever I popped in and searched out the restroom.
Pushing open the door, I scanned the area to make sure I was alone and then walked over to a long chaise on one side of the room and took a seat.
Of course, Devani would make me wait. It was her way. And I guessed in her line of work, it made sense to keep everyone around her on their toes.
Just as I was about to open my clutch and pull out my phone, I heard a door open. A door that I was positive shouldn’t exist in a bathroom with only one entrance.
Sighing, I turned to look over my shoulder. Through a bathroom stall that was moments ago empty came a gorgeous brunette. Everything about her screamed “money.”
She had it, used it, liked it, and earned it.
“You do realize that a grand entrance wasn’t necessary for me.”
She shrugged. “What’s the point of knowing about a secret entrance into an underground club if I don’t get a chance to use it?”
“Sam didn’t want to come with you?”
Recently and by accident, I’d learned that Devani and Samir “Sam” King were hooking up. The last thing I ever expected was for them to have any sort of entanglement—they came from different worlds—but then again, so had Jayna and Kir, and those two had fallen head over heels in love.
Surprise flashed across her face. “You’re trying to make it something it’s not.”
What Devani didn’t know was that I was protective of Sam for reasons only a few people knew about. He was family. The family I was not allowed to acknowledge. Sam was my first cousin. The son of the woman Uncle Ashok pretended to love, pretended to want to marry until Aunt Monica’s family and money came along. He’d seduced the young nineteen-year-old and left her pregnant and alone in a community that shunned unwed mothers.
“What is it, then?”
“It’s a mutually beneficial agreement.”
“Meaning?”
“He’s a King, I’m a Patel. It would never work out. We know what we’re doing, Danika. No need to play big sister, especially since we’re the same age.”
“What are you doing, Devani?”
She glared at me. “We’re fucking when the itch strikes. Does that answer your question?”
Her flare of temper said it was more than a fuck-buddies relationship, but I couldn’t push it. That was for another time and place.
“Yes, loud and clear.”
At that moment, an older woman walked into the lounge.
“Do you have the lipstick you wore the last time I saw you?” Devani asked as she watched the lady walk into a stall. “I swear, I looked everywhere for that shade but could never find it.”
Opening my clutch, I pulled out the tube and handed it to her. “Here you go. You can keep it. It’s one of my favorite colors and I keep plenty in stock at home. Plus, I think it’ll go perfectly with your dress.”
Devani opened and then applied the lipstick, pursing and pouting her lips in the mirror.
“This color is on point.”
“I’m glad I brought it with me. I had a feeling you’d wear that dress tonight.”
To that remark, Devani lifted a brow. “We’re overdue for a girls’ trip.”
“Yes, we are.”
The last time I’d gone anywhere was a year and a half ago to Rio.
I was meeting a cyber client and had flown to Lima, Peru in the guise of investigating an art piece for Jayna’s gallery. Devani had been lying low between assignments in Guyana. The two of us decided Rio de Janeiro was the perfect place to have an impromptu girls’ trip.
We were both in desperate need of a break from our respective lives. She from her crazy money-grubbing family and me from my uncle.
Two short flights later, we were ready for an extended weekend of shopping, beach time, and club hopping.
New York society would never have believed that Shah’s niece and the Patel diamond heiress were best friends or that they vacationed together. There was a long history of dislike between our families, something neither Devani nor I could ever figure out the origin of.
Devani’s attention shifted from her face to mine. “Damn, girl. You are smoking tonight.”
“We’re both smoking. It’s our MO.”
I wasn’t a woman who didn’t know her appeal. I had inherited my mother’s and father’s attractive beauty. I knew how to play up my looks when I wanted, even if I preferred the non-glam side of life. It was way easier to throw my hair up in a messy bun and call it a day.
Using our assets was another thing that seemed to bond Devani and me. People, men especially, underestimated us. And that’s how we ended up winning most poker nights.