Vansh inserted himself between the man and Naina and faced him. “Nice party, huh? You having fun?”

He didn’t look like someone who appreciated being interrupted. “I was about to, then you showed up.” Two pissed-off drunks and one of them was horny. It was a situation waiting to blow up in their inebriated faces.

“Ouch. That was needlessly hurtful, man. I appreciate honesty as much as the next guy. But you heard her. She’s not interested.” He pointed at the beard. “Maybe if you shaved.”

“Rod! There you are. I’ve been searching for you everywhere.” An Indian man with a ponytail, and with stubble that might be construed as a beard, walked up to the Highlander and wrapped an arm around him.

It seemed Naina was not the only sloshed person here being rescued by a friend.

“Excuse me,” the new addition to their party said to Vansh as though he were interrupting friends having dinner and not trying to avert a scene. “Do you mind if I steal my friend away for a moment?”

“Can you steal him away forever?” Naina slurred behind Vansh, then placed her chin on his shoulder and watched. Was she humming?

The ponytailed man smiled.

His redheaded friend did not. The expression on his face was as opposite of a smile as an expression could get. “What the bloody hell?” he spat out. He did have a Scottish accent, which made Vansh want to laugh. “I don’t fucking need this.” Then, flipping Naina the bird and disengaging himself from his friend, he stumbled away.

“I think your Highlander’s leaving,” Naina said, spraying spittle into Vansh’s ear. “I hope it’s not to shave off his beard. I don’t think I’d be interested even without the beard.”

“I’m sorry. Rod’s usually a gentleman. It’s the jet lag,” Rod’s keeper said.

“And too much booze,” Naina added helpfully.

The man nodded, a smile slipping. “I’m Siddhartha, by the way.”

“Siddharthabytheway . . . ,” Naina mumbled. “That’s an interesting name. Where are you from?” She lifted her chin off Vansh’s shoulder and reached for a glass of champagne the bartender had just set on the bar.

Vansh moved it out of her reach and signaled the bartender for a glass of water.

Siddhartha smiled. “Palo Alto.”

“No, I mean . . . I mean . . .” She looked at Vansh, mimicking the look they were all more than familiar with. “Where are you really from,” both Vansh and Naina said together, and the three of them laughed.

“Vansh.” Vansh shook his hand.

“I know who you are. I’m India Dashwood’s brother.”

“Sid Dashwood! Of course. It’s so great to finally meet you. This is Naina. Naina Kohli.”