“What?” he asked nervously, leaning forward. “Did I do okay? How many this time?”
Caterina consulted her phone quickly, breaking an etiquette rule, but this was important. Looking back at him, she said, “Not a single etiquette mistake or grievous social faux pas that time.”
Rahul gaped at her. “Seriously. Not one? Not even a tiny half mistake?”
“Not even that.” Caterina took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I think you’re ready for the gala.”
“I’m ready,” Rahul said in wonder, the lights of the restaurant glowing purple in his black hair. It was always nighttime at Nyx; the ceilings were made to look like the night sky, using fiber-optic lights and special panels. Normally, Caterina didn’t go in for gimmicks, but this was the only remotely “fancy” restaurant in the area. It crossed her mind that she could buy the place; it had potential. She’d talk to her people about it later. “I’m really ready.”
“Good thing, since it’s tomorrow.” Caterina signed the receipt the waitress had deposited at their table a few minutes ago. She’d insisted on paying. One, this wasn’t a date, and two, she knew for a fact that the LaValles were much, much wealthier than the Chopras. “We need to get you cleaned up.”
After a lengthy pause, Rahul asked, “Will there be a lot of cameras there?”
Caterina put the pen down and looked at him. “Yes, there will. As I said, all the society pages and a few lifestyle magazines were invited. Why?” She crossed her arms and studied him. “You’re not changing your mind at the eleventh hour, are you?”
“No, of course not!” Rahul said immediately, and Caterina relaxed a bit. It would be nearly impossible to find a suitable date this late, even for her. “It’s just that…” He played with his napkin, which was definitely an etiquette breach, but Caterina held her tongue. She wanted to hear this. “I’m not really great with cameras. I kind of… seize up.”
Caterina cocked her head. “But surely you’ve done a few professional photography sessions for your mother’s campaign, gotten some media training. I know you said she’s busy, but politicians like to trot out their families for photo ops.”
“I’ve forgotten everything they taught me as a kid,” Rahul explained. “And after a few really bad pictures…” He cleared his throat, a faint pink hue coloring his cheeks. “Um, my parents began using one of my distant cousins as a stand-in for me. Apparently, we have the same bone structure.” He pointed to his nose and jaw, but kept his eyes averted. The funny thing was that Rahul had a strong jaw and an aquiline nose. They could be handsome if he were to own them with just a little more confidence.
Caterina’s heart contracted in her chest as the waitress swung back around to pick up the check. “They… use someone else in pictures. You mean like a body double?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Rahul nodded solemnly, his gaze on hers defeated and heavy.
Caterina kept her voice neutral. She suspected the last thing he wanted right now was her pity. “I’m surprised the media hasn’t caught on.”
Rahul waved a hand, attempting to appear insouciant. But Caterina saw the vestiges of hurt there, lingering on his face. “Ah, they’re much more interested in my brother, anyway. He’s on track to continue the family political legacy.” He paused. “But, um, I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that. People using body doubles for you in pictures, I mean.”
Caterina frowned, not understanding, as she grabbed the handles of her Chloé bag. “What do you mean?”
Rahul looked at her again, his cheeks staining an even brighter pink than before. “Um, because you’re—it’s like—” He gestured at her, at a loss for words.
Realization dawned, and Caterina smiled a little as she sat back in her booth, letting go of her bag. “Do you mean because you think I’m pretty?”
“Uh. Yeah.”
She continued watching him, though he was having trouble making eye contact. In spite of herself and the very businesslike nature of this transaction, Caterina couldn’t help but be charmed. When Alaric had fed her lines, they very much had the feel of lines: meant to impress and maybe even get under her dress. But with Rahul, it was obvious he was just speaking his mind, as much discomfort as it caused him. He truly, genuinely thought she was beautiful. “Well, thank you, Rahul. I appreciate that sentiment.”
He studied her face frankly and then took a sip of water. A nearby table of four adults laughed loudly and utterly obnoxiously before subsiding again when they caught Caterina’s withering glare. “Do you ever get nervous? About the people, the cameras, all of that?”
Caterina looked at Rahul in surprise. He wasn’t one for emotions, she knew. It was one thing they had in common. “No, I don’t. It’s important to my father and our businesses that I attend these things, so it’s important to me as well. It’s work, in a way. Emotions don’t really come into it.”
“Emotions complicate things,” Rahul said thoughtfully.
“They make things messy. And the last thing I need in my life is mess.” Caterina was glad she didn’t have to explain. Most of the people in her life—Papa excluded, naturally—thought it was odd that a girl, especially, was so emotion-averse, as if emotionality was a gendered trait. Ridiculous. “So, are you ready to go shopping?”
Rahul took a breath. “I’m ready.”
RAHUL
February was living up to its title as the cruelest month of the year (according to the Farmers’ Almanac that Rahul had perused for fun earlier that day). It was bitterly, achingly cold even though it wasn’t snowing, and the five-minute walk from Nyx to this western hemlock-lined street full of stores felt like risking his neck on an ice slide. Rahul was huddled into his coat, trying not to shake, but Caterina stood beside him, tall and imperious and graceful as ever in her sweeping pale blue cashmere coat with big wooden buttons.
“This is it?” Rahul looked at the artfully arranged storefront of the small boutique—a bronze-and-gold sign declared that it was called CASSA DEL TESORO—Caterina had led him to. It was filled with impractically small vintage trunks and lacy dresses that would probably disintegrate to wisps in a washing machine.
“Yes. I’ve known Oliver Lemaire for a couple of years now. He’s a dear friend.” Glancing over her shoulder, she added, “Oliver’s good for many things, not just what he has on display in his shop. He’s helped me in many different ways over the last couple of years—and he’s discreet.”
“Okay…” Rahul was not convinced of Oliver’s ability to procure things that would be practical to wear, but he held the door open for Caterina nonetheless.
At least it was warm inside the store. Rahul took off his coat and looked around the small, but not cramped, space. He guessed this was what a Realtor would call “cozy.”
The walls were exposed brick—fly ash colored to look like sand lime, from the looks of it. Fun fact: fly ash bricks were also self-cementing due to high concentrations of calcium oxide. There was also, confoundingly, an unused fireplace filled with decorative lit lanterns. “If he wants light,” Rahul murmured, “why doesn’t he just light the fire?”