She gave an exasperated sigh. “Are you seriously running game on me in front of my parents?”

“I didn’t want the opportunity to go to waste.” He grinned. “I thought maybe you’d feel like you owed me.”

“For opening the door?”

“People have slept with me for less.”

Layla made her way down the alley to the office entrance and up the stairs to the second-floor door. Loud music filled the corridor, and she recognized the heavy beats of Taio Cruz’s “Break Your Heart.”

“Were you invited to the party, too?” John stepped out of the elevator with a bottle of wine in his hand.

“I didn’t know there was a party.” Her heart lurched when she saw Max’s basket in the middle of the hallway, his blankets and squeeze toys strewn across the carpet.

“Sam?” She pushed open the frosted-glass door to the office and froze at the scene in front of her.

Bottles and cans littered Daisy’s desk, along with a half-eaten tray of deli meat, a dish of what looked like caviar, and a tiered platter of hors d’oeuvres. A woman in a red micro dress straddled a man in a blue suit on her purple chaise, and a woman in a sparkly bikini was twirling around a pole that had been set up between the two desks. The office was full to bursting, but except for two lawyers from John’s firm, she didn’t recognize anyone.

“What’s going on?” She stared at the chaos, aghast.

“Evan said it was a party. I didn’t expect”—John’s gaze flicked from the woman dancing on Layla’s desk to the man stuffing money in her G-string—“this.”

“Where’s Sam?” She thought she’d whispered, but the woman on her chaise looked over and smiled.

“He’s in the boardroom with Tiffany.” She winked. “I don’t think they want to be disturbed.”

“Oh my God.” Her hands trembled and the sambar sloshed onto the tray.

“Who ordered Indian?” A man in a tight blue-and-pink-striped shirt with a polka-dot tie offered Layla a $20 bill. “Keep the change. I don’t have anything smaller.”

“She works here, Royce.” John knocked his hand away.

“Ah, the girl with the bad designs!” Royce reached for the dosas and Layla took a step back. “You need to focus on what you do well, and it’s not branding. Better luck next time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Royce looked genuinely puzzled. “I’m wishing you luck in your new venture, wherever it may be. Although I’d recommend you don’t set up shop above your parents’ restaurant again if they decide to continue their business elsewhere. It projects the wrong image.”

Had she fallen down a rabbit hole? Stepped into a different dimension? Maybe an alternate universe? Had Danny put something in her chai? “My parents aren’t leaving.”

“Sure they are.” Denied the dosas, Royce carefully spooned caviar onto a small cracker. “They’re being served with the three-day notice this evening. If they can’t pay the outstanding rent in three days, we’ll start eviction proceedings.”

All her breath left her in a rush and she staggered back. If not for John’s strong hand on her shoulder, she might have fallen.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Royce said. “Your dad told Sam they were struggling financially. What did you expect would happen? That the landlords would float them forever? I thought you were a businessperson. This is how it goes. Wake up and smell the balance sheet.”

“That’s crazy.” She curled her fingers around the tray. “The owners of the building are friends of my late brother. They would never evict my parents. Never.”

Royce munched on his caviar cracker. “But I would, and I own the building. Well, technically, it belongs to Bentley Mehta World Corporation, but . . .”

“Sam!” This time she shouted his name loud enough to be heard over the music.

Moments later, the door to the boardroom opened and Sam staggered out, a tall, curvy brunette under his arm and a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. His hair was mussed, shirt open at the neck, tie gone, sleeves pushed up to reveal the forearms that had once been the object of her fantasies. She’d never seen him so disheveled or so utterly destroyed.

His gaze flicked from Layla to John and back to Layla. His face smoothed to an expressionless mask.

“What’s going on?” Layla asked, her voice wavering. “Who is that woman?”

“This is Amber.” He whispered something in Amber’s ear and she pressed a kiss to his cheek before making her way over to the pole.

“We’re having a party.” He held up the bottle, his voice flat. “For Alpha Health Care. We’re on the short list and we’re showing them a good time.”

She drew in a ragged breath, trying to contain her shock and horror. “Royce says your company bought the building and you’re evicting my parents.”

“I know.”

“You know?” Her voice rose in pitch as dismay turned to anger. “That’s all you have to say? Why didn’t you tell me? Why don’t you do something? The restaurant is all they have. It’s all we have left of Dev.”

Sam took a long pull from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” Her body vibrated with fury. “This is your company, too. Or were you planning to kick them out all along? And our game? What was that all about? Were you just amusing yourself at my expense while you put your plan in motion? Royce said my dad told you they were struggling financially. Did you use that information to hurt them?”

“You don’t understand . . .” He shuddered. “I told Royce to do what it took to get the contract, and what it took was space.”

“Where did you think the space would come from?” she snapped. “You know Royce. You work with him every day. Look at what he did to my designs. He’s got no empathy, no concern for anyone or anything except the bottom line. You should have seen this coming. But it’s clear all you cared about was getting your stupid contract.”

Sam’s mouth opened as if to speak, but she wasn’t interested in what he had to say. With her blood pounding through her veins so hard she could barely think, she raised her voice above the music, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “Did you tell your clients why you really want the contract? Did you tell them your plan to access the hospital database and read the personnel files to search for evidence of a cover-up and the truth about what happened to your sister? Maybe they should know what kind of person you really are.” She regretted the words as soon as they dropped from her lips, but it was too late. Beneath the heavy beat of the music, an uncomfortable silence filled the room.