The Ballroom
The room was loud.
It was not just noise. It was a roar. It sounded like the ocean, but the ocean was made of voices. Rich voices. Expensive laughter. The sound of crystal glasses hitting each other. Clink. Clink. Clink.
Esha walked into the room. She did not walk alone. Zaviyar was holding her.
His hand was on her back. It was on her bare skin. His fingers were warm. They were heavy. He was guiding her through the crowd. He was steering her like she was a car.
Esha felt exposed. The dress was too open. The slit in the leg was too high. Every time she took a step, she felt the air on her leg. She felt people looking.
The men looked at her dress. The women looked at the diamonds. The diamonds on her neck were heavy. They felt like a collar.
"Head up," Zaviyar whispered. His voice was right in her ear. "Do not look at the floor. Look at them. Make them look away first."
Esha lifted her chin. She looked at the people. She made her eyes hard. She channeled Anya Sharma. Anya Sharma was not afraid of rich people. Anya Sharma ate rich people for breakfast.
They stopped near a group of men. The men were old. They were wearing tuxedos that cost more than a car. They were holding cigars. They were not smoking them. They were just holding them.
One man turned around. He was short. He had grey hair. He had a red face.
"Zaviyar!" the man said. He sounded loud. "I heard you were here. I heard you brought a date."
The man looked at Esha. He looked at her chest. He stayed there for a long time.
"This is not a date," Zaviyar said. His voice was cold. "This is business. This is Anya Sharma. My new Chief of Strategy."
The man laughed. It was a wet laugh. "Strategy? She looks like she is strategy for something else, if you know what I mean."
The other men laughed. They thought it was funny.
Esha felt the anger. It started in her stomach. It was hot. It burned.
Zaviyar's hand tightened on her back. He was angry too. She could feel his muscles tense up. He was about to say something. He was about to defend her.
Esha did not wait.
She stepped forward. She stepped away from Zaviyar's hand. She looked the short man in the eye.
"You are Mr. Sterling," Esha said. Her voice was the American voice. It was flat. It was bored. "You run the Sterling Hedge Fund. You own three percent of Khan Global stock."
The man stopped laughing. He looked surprised. "I do."
"You are trying to sell your shares," Esha said. "You are trying to sell them quietly. You are talking to the Roys. You want to jump ship because you think the stock is going down."
The room got quiet. The other men stopped laughing. They looked at Sterling. They looked at Esha.
Sterling's face got redder. "That is... that is private information."
"It is stupid information," Esha said. She took a sip of her champagne. "If you sell now, you will lose twelve million pounds. The stock is going to go up next week. We are announcing a new merger. If you sell to the Roys, you are throwing money in the trash."
Sterling looked nervous. He looked at Zaviyar.
"Is this true?" Sterling asked. "A merger?"
Zaviyar did not speak. He just smiled. He looked at Esha. He looked proud. He looked like a man who just let his dog off the leash.
"Ms. Sharma is the strategist," Zaviyar said. "If she says the stock is going up, the stock is going up."
Sterling swallowed. He looked at his cigar. He looked small.
"I... I will hold the shares," Sterling said. "I will wait."
"Good choice," Esha said. "Now excuse us. We have other people to save."
She turned around. She walked away.
She did not wait for Zaviyar. She just walked. Her heart was beating fast. Bang. Bang. Bang. She felt dizzy.
Zaviyar caught up to her. He grabbed her elbow. He pulled her into a corner. It was a dark corner. There were no people there.
He looked at her. His eyes were shining. They were black fire.
"You lied," he said.
"I improvised," Esha said. She was out of breath. "There is no merger. The stock is not going up."
"It will go up now," Zaviyar said. "Because Sterling will tell everyone there is a merger. He will buy more stock. The price will go up. You just made me five million pounds in two minutes."
He stepped closer. He was too close. He smelled like adrenaline.
"You are dangerous," he said. He reached out. He touched her face. His thumb brushed her cheek. "I knew you were sharp. I didn't know you were vicious."
Esha shivered. His touch was warm. It sent a shock down her spine.
"I hate them," Esha whispered. "I hate men like that. They think they can look at me like I am meat."
"You are not meat," Zaviyar said. His voice was low. "You are the knife. I told you. You are the weapon."
He leaned in. He looked at her mouth. He looked like he wanted to do something. Something bad. Something good.
Esha held her breath. She could smell the scotch on his breath. She could see the gold specks in his eyes.
"Zaviyar," she said. It was a warning.
He stopped. He pulled back. He took a breath.
"Come," he said. "We are not done. We have to do the dance."
He took her hand again. He pulled her back into the crowd.
The dance.
It wasn't a real dance. It was a social dance.
They walked. They smiled. They shook hands.
Esha met so many people. She didn't remember their names. They were just faces. Blurs of white teeth and expensive jewelry.
"This is Anya."
"Charmed."
"She is from New York."
"Fascinating."
"She is fixing the company."
"Impressive."
It was a script. Esha said the lines. She smiled the smile. Her face hurt. Her cheeks hurt from smiling. Her feet hurt from the shoes.
The shoes were killing her. The steel heel was digging into her heel. She felt a blister pop. It was wet. It stung.
She didn't limp. Anya Sharma does not limp. Anya Sharma floats.
She saw Arjun again.
He was across the room. He was near the bar. He was looking at his phone. He looked sad. He looked lonely.
Esha wanted to go to him. She wanted to say "It's me. It's Esha. Get me out of here."
But she couldn't.
Zaviyar's hand was on her waist. It was a clamp. It was a reminder. You are mine.
"Do not look at him," Zaviyar whispered. He saw where she was looking. He saw everything. "He is the enemy. Do not feel sorry for the enemy."
"He looks sad," Esha said.
"He is losing," Zaviyar said. "Losers are always sad."
Zaviyar pulled her closer. He pulled her into a circle of women. The women were wearing diamonds too. But their diamonds were smaller. Esha's diamonds were the biggest.
The women looked at Esha. They looked jealous. They looked at Zaviyar. They looked hungry.
"Zaviyar," one woman said. She had blonde hair. She was wearing blue. "We haven't seen you in months. You have been hiding."
"I have been working," Zaviyar said. "And I have been finding talent."
He looked at Esha. He looked possessive.
"Anya is very talented," he said.
The blonde woman looked at Esha. She looked at the necklace.
"That is a beautiful piece," the woman said. "Is it vintage?"
"It is a gift," Zaviyar said. He answered for her. "It belongs to the Khan collection. My mother wore it."
Esha froze.
His mother.
He put his mother's necklace on her. The dead mother. The mother who died of a broken heart because of the feud.
Esha touched the cold stones. They felt heavier now. They felt like a curse.
"It is lovely," the woman said. She looked mean. "But isn't it heavy? It looks like a collar."
"Some things are worth the weight," Esha said. She drank the rest of her champagne. She needed it.
Zaviyar laughed. He liked that answer too.
He leaned down. "I think we are done here," he whispered. "We made the point. Sterling is scared. The women are jealous. Arjun is confused. We won."
"Can we go?" Esha asked. "My feet are bleeding."
"Not yet," Zaviyar said. "One more thing."
He led her to the doors. But not the exit doors. The doors to the terrace.
"Where are we going?" Esha asked.
"Outside," Zaviyar said. "I need air. And I need to ask you something."
He opened the glass doors.
The cold air hit them. It was freezing. It was London in February. It was raining a little bit.
Esha shivered. The dress had no back. The wind hit her skin like ice.
Zaviyar took off his jacket. The black velvet jacket. He put it around her shoulders.
It was warm. It smelled like him. It was heavy.
He stood there in his white shirt. The rain hit his shirt. It became see-through. Esha could see his skin. She could see his muscles.
"What do you want to ask?" Esha said. She pulled the jacket tighter.
Zaviyar looked at her. He looked at the necklace. He looked at her eyes.
"Sterling," Zaviyar said. "How did you know?"
"Know what?"
"How did you know he was talking to the Roys? I didn't tell you that. It wasn't in the file."
Esha stopped breathing.
She made a mistake. She knew because her father told her. Her father told her that Sterling was the weak link. Her father told her to target him.
She slipped. She used real information. Roy information.
Zaviyar was watching her. He was smart. He was a shark. If she lied bad, he would eat her.
"I guessed," Esha said. She kept her voice steady. "Men like Sterling are cowards. Cowards always run to the other side when the boat rocks. It was a calculated guess."
Zaviyar stared at her. He studied her face. He was looking for the lie.
The rain fell. Drip. Drip. Drip.
Esha held his gaze. She didn't blink.
"You are a good guesser," Zaviyar said slowly.
He stepped closer. He fixed the jacket on her shoulders. His fingers brushed her neck.
"Be careful, Anya," he whispered. "If you know too much, people will start to wonder who you really are."
Esha felt the cold deep in her bones.
"I am nobody," she said. "I am just the strategist."
"No," Zaviyar said. He looked at the city lights. "You are not nobody. You are the most dangerous person in this room."
He turned back to the door.
"Let's go home," he said.
Esha followed him. She wore his jacket. It felt like a hug. It felt like a trap.
She survived the night. But she made a mistake. And Zaviyar Khan noticed.
She was walking on glass. And the glass was starting to crack.