Even though his project was only starting, it was impressive. The donors that had already signed on were pretty big deals—real estate companies, law firms, big tech companies. And HNS, of course. Emerald’s name attached to this project in any capacity would be fantastic for business.

Bollywood night needed to be utterly perfect. This time there was no room for cut fingers, kitchen fires, or anything else that could go wrong.

She tapped her gel manicure on her computer desk, thinking. Where was there opportunity to class up this party? Maybe the tableware? Her normal plates were very good, very bright Kate Spade, but she could get something more elegant. And she could kick up the food a bit. She already had the biryani ordered (Mumbai style this week). Maybe plate it in a fancier serving dish? Could she add elaborate appetizers? She pulled down an Indian snack cookbook that some generous soul had given her as a hostess gift and thumbed through it.

She wanted to make her favorite—kachori chaat. But it looked much too complicated, and she was low-key afraid of starting a grease fire if she deep-fried anything. Not to mention it was messy. She considered bhel puri, but it seemed too simple. And even messier.

She needed wow factor, while being secretly foolproof and tidy. And flame resistant. She finally settled on chili-paneer kebobs and vegetable momo dumplings with chili-ginger chutney. The momos looked a bit tricky to wrap, but nothing a YouTube momo-watching marathon couldn’t solve. The best part? They were steamed—and thus, nearly impossible to ignite into flames.

Of course, she wasn’t serving any alcohol at all this time. She had no idea if Anil was a religious enough Muslim to refrain from drinking himself, or if he would be judgy about others imbibing. Kamila herself wasn’t really religious, but she knew others might be uncomfortable with the normal drinking at her parties, even if she didn’t normally participate. Apple cider simmered with whole cinnamon and cardamom would be lovely.

She left the office a little early on Thursday to visit an outlet mall where she bought classy matte black dinner plates, small pink rose-printed luncheon plates, and brushed-gold flatware. She also picked up a black tiered serving plate that the momos would look amazing on, along with some large clear globe-shaped bowls for fresh flowers. And she got new clothes. Fancy, sophisticated party clothes. No flared skirts or bold prints to be seen.

It was after eight by the time she got home and started cooking. She needed to make the food tonight since she had client meetings tomorrow and couldn’t work from home. The paneer was easy—she cubed the cheese and tossed it in a simple marinade of yogurt, ginger, garlic, and spices, then parked it in the fridge. She’d thread the pieces onto skewers and roast them tomorrow.