Royce pulled out a row of glasses and filled them with champagne. “Aside from the fact I had your consent—do whatever it takes—I retained a controlling interest in the partnership when you joined the company. You can’t go wrong investing in real estate. It’s a win-win for us.”

Bile rose in Sam’s throat. “What about the tenants?”

Royce popped another cork, spilling champagne over Daisy’s desk. “You told me the restaurant owners were having financial difficulties, which was how I came up with the idea of buying the building in the first place. After I talked to your friend John this morning, I called up my lawyer and he said their tenancy wouldn’t be a problem. During the due diligence, they discovered the Patels were in breach of their lease for failing to pay rent. It’s perfect! We’ll be serving them with a three-day notice tonight. If they don’t pay up, then we start the eviction proceedings. By the time AH makes the final decision, we’ll be in possession of everything except the top floor.”

Sam’s knees buckled and he grabbed the counter for support. “And what if we don’t get the contract? We’ll have a building we don’t need, no financial reserves, and the Patels will have lost their business.”

“Honestly, it would be a small mercy for them,” Royce said with a smirk. “I’ve never seen the restaurant more than half-full. Good food. Bad location. Easy fix. They’ll be thanking me in six months. And after this party, the contract will be in the bag and we won’t have to worry about finances again.” Royce handed him a glass. “I don’t understand why you’re not happy. This is what you wanted. Now turn that frown upside down. Our guests are here and they’re expecting us to show them the time of their lives.”

Sam looked up just as Peter Richards and six middle-aged men in dark suits walked in the door, accompanied by three women wearing tiny shorts and cropped T-shirts bearing the Platinum logo.

“Oh, honey. Don’t look so sad. You’ll feel better when you loosen up. Let me help you off with that tie.” A woman with heavy makeup and waist-length brown hair unknotted Sam’s tie and slid it off his neck, dropping it in the wastebasket beside Daisy’s desk. “There, now. Doesn’t that feel better?”

“I don’t feel anything at all.” With a last glance out the window, Sam sent a quick text to Layla, letting her know he had a work emergency, and went to greet his clients.

He was doing this for Nisha. For justice. For the unknown woman who didn’t know she was about to marry a monster.

So why did it feel so wrong?

• 21 •

LAYLA flipped her dosa onto the plate. “I did it! This one is perfect. That makes two!”

“Well done.” Her father leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I knew you could do it.”

Layla plated the dosa, adding pots of chutney and sambar to the tray just seconds before her phone buzzed in her pocket. She dropped her head, closing her eyes after she read Sam’s message.

“What’s wrong, beta?”

“Sam says he has a work emergency and he’s not sure when he can make it down. He said to go ahead without him.”

Her father pushed himself up. “Then we will go up and give him the dosas while they’re still warm to have as a snack. A hardworking man is a good man. I’m sure he is as disappointed he can’t come as you are.”

“I’ll go, Dad.” She picked up the plate. “I don’t want you to get tired.”

“I’m not tired. The doctor said not to lift heavy things. He didn’t say to sit around all day like a lump of dough. I want to see what you’ve done with the office and meet Sam before the family gets to him.”

Layla closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I decided last night that I’m going to move out of the office. Sam has a business partner, and you did offer it to him first.” She hesitated, reluctant to hurt her father’s pride. “Also, when I was going through the bills on your desk, I realized you need the rent money. I can’t afford that office, and if I really want to run my own business, I need to find my own space at a rent I can afford.”

Her father’s brow creased in a frown. “You don’t need to worry about your mom and me. We’ve been through difficult times before. You’re our daughter. If you want that office—”

“Dad, you are operating at a loss.” Her voice rose in pitch. “Dev’s friends have been more than accommodating, but you owe them almost a year’s worth of rent. What are you going to do if they can’t carry that debt?”

“This is not your business.” Her father’s angry shout drew her mother over to the stove. He was a proud man and he took his responsibility as head of the household very seriously. It meant he didn’t ask for help; he gave it. When there was a problem, he fixed it. And when something went wrong, he kept it to himself and suffered in silence.

“Nasir.” Layla’s mother placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. The doctor said no stress.”

“I am not stressed,” he said furiously. “Why did you let Layla go through my office? Our financial situation is not her concern. She has her own troubles, her own life to sort out. She doesn’t need to spend her time worrying about us.”

“She’s a grown woman. She was just trying to help. But maybe it’s time she knew what’s going on.”

“Go.” Her father waved Layla away. “Take the dosas to Sam while they’re still hot. Your mother and I have things to discuss.”

Layla’s mother lifted an eyebrow. “Is he not coming for dinner?”

“He’s got a work emergency,” Layla explained. “He’ll be down as soon as it’s done.”

“Hmmm.” Her mother’s lips tightened and she turned back to the stove.

“Don’t be like that, Mom. He’s running a business with only him and his partner. And how many Indian people show up to something on time? He’ll be fashionably late.”

“I run my own business with only your father and not once have we ever been late for an engagement—fashionably or not fashionably.” Her harsh, clipped tone conveyed the extent of her disapproval, and Layla quickly headed for the door.

“I’ll see if I can hurry him up.”

“Hey, babe. Let me get that for you.” Danny ran ahead when she tried to balance the tray with one hand to open the back door. “You’re killing it in that dress, by the way.” He gestured to the emerald green sheath dress she’d worn for dinner. “You’re looking sweeter than the gulab jamun I just made.”