Disinterested in his explanation, Naina stuck her mouth into the glass in Vansh’s hand and tried to take a sip before he could pull it away again without letting his grip on her arm go because he didn’t want her hitting the floor.

In his whole life Vansh had never thought he’d see Naina make that slurping sound.

“I think that’s enough champagne for one evening.”

“Are you calling me drunk? I’ve never been drunk. Ever.” Another burp.

“Probably a good choice, given how hot you are when you’re drunk.”

His sarcasm was lost on her and she pinched his cheeks again. “You think I’m hot? Vansh, are you hitting on your brother’s ex-fiancée?”

“Fake ex-fiancée.”

“Fake.” The word made her giggle, then hiccup.

Vansh needed to get her out of here and home ASAP.

“Your face is awfully close to mine,” she said, breath sweet and sour with champagne.

“I know.” He pulled her hand off his face and put a little distance between them.

She stuck one finger in his face and counted off. “I’ve never been drunk around anyone.” Then another finger. “I’ve never danced with anyone. You’re a very special boy, Vansh Raje!”

“So I’ve been told.”

“You know who hates that I don’t dance?” She patted his face and slumped close again. “Mummy.” The smile she gave him could only be described as heartbreaking. “‘I don’t understand why young person like you not dance,’” she said in her mother’s voice. “Well, I’ll tell you why, Mummy. Because dancing is just . . . it’s just such . . .”

“Fun?”

“Public embarrassment.” She started to slide off the bar stool, and Vansh caught her and held her up. “But you’re right. Corr-rrect. Vansh is correct. It should’ve been fun. It could’ve been fun. It . . .” She waited for him to join her in saying the next part “. . . would’ve been fun. But then it turned into a public embarrassment.” She tried to sit up again and push herself off him. “That pretty much sums up my life.”

He made her drink another glass of water and she didn’t fight him. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s go home and you can tell me all about it in the car.”

She looked at him like he hadn’t spoken. “Does it ever get old?” Again she waited for a response without really wanting one. “The adulation without doing one damn thing for it?” She was about to pinch his cheek again, but he held her hand.

She was drunk and hurt by Mehta’s stunt, and she didn’t even know the half of it. The fear of losing her friendship twisted inside him, along with how much he hated being dismissed by her this way.