“Mish-Mash! Don’t be absurd. We’ve been friends since I was younger than you. Now we’re colleagues. Just for a short time, so save your sleuthing for your stories, okay?” Mishka wrote mystery stories that only Vansh was allowed to read.

She looked over her shoulder. “Shhh. You’re not supposed to say that out loud.”

He tucked a brown curl behind her ear. Evidently, the Raje penchant for secrets was a genetic gift.

“Sorry.” He patted the hand she’d hooked into his elbow. “But listen, I want you to remember something. It’s not always about looks.”

“Only people who look like you can say that,” she said lightly, but her eyes were sharp. She was listening.

“Well, people who look like us should know that better than anyone else then.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

They got the promised ice cream to go and he walked her outside. After giving him the tightest, lankiest hug, she went skipping down the colonnaded portico steps to the waiting car. Vansh quickly waved to his mother and sisters before going back inside. He didn’t have the stomach to deal with their acting like he was cavorting with the enemy. Because truly, what was wrong with them? Hadn’t Naina been a part of their family forever?

There was only one person who had the right to be angry at him right now, and he had no idea why that was making him sick to his stomach.

As he went back inside, a pink and blue ghagra flashed across the room. Finally. Where had she been this entire time? He shouldered his way through the crowd, refusing to lose sight of her. Was she weaving on her feet as she walked toward the bar? Yup. Definitely weaving.

She stumbled as she tried to get on a bar stool, but then she gripped the bar and found her balance. That was Naina Kohli for you, relying on herself even when felled by alcohol.

A man with a red beard who looked like he’d descended from the Scottish Highlands approached her. He seemed to have exchanged his kilt for a tux.

In response to the smile he gave her, Naina threw a glance over both shoulders. The classic Naina Kohli Stay the hell away scowl was so fierce that Vansh was impressed the man did not back away immediately. Do it, buddy. Leave.

Any minute now she was going to do something like flip him the bird, if not punch his nose. Breaking into a jog, Vansh pushed past the crowd, which was thickest around the dance floor but thinned out toward the bar, thank God. Only at a dandiya party could there be more interest in dancing than alcohol.

“I never fuck men with beards,” Naina said sweetly. She was slurring.

Redbeard looked unfazed. “There’s always a first time. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” He was also slurring. Great.