“Maybe not.” Xavier slid a sideways glance at me. “Just try to keep it together while this project is going on. I don’t want to be the one picking up the pieces if things go south.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t happy about the circumstances, but I’d survived Maya Singh for this long. I could handle another nine months with her.
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 wasonecall, 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’tdo”—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 ofmyjob.”
“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 eleganthand 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 becomefriendsfriends 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.”