She rolled her eyes, and we walked along the shoreline as long as possible before having to cut across lawns to get to the back of the villa.
“Since you threw me into the ocean—”
“Not quite what happened.”
She went on, “So tell me: Have you heard back about the PM position?”
I arched a brow. “Sounds like a breach of confidentiality.”
“Why?”
“A conversation with direct competition? Are you trying to get intel? Sabotage? Spy?”
Bane scoffed. “Please. It’s in the bag for me.”
“So sure?”
She nodded. “Skills, education, years of experience, seniority. I’m just trying to plan for my future and make plans if this doesn’t work out.”
“Am I your biggest threat?”
“Aren’t I yours?”
I frowned. Did she see me as the enemy?
Twenty-one Bhanu
Sunny had taken a shower and consequently passed out in bed, on his side, of course. I was on the couch reading another chapter from this riveting book, avoiding the heat and the bugs outside, when my phone lit up with a text.
Diya: Saw something at the boutique earlier and snatched it for you since it’s perfect. Last one, too! Should fit. It’s on my bed.
Aw. That was awfully sweet of my sister.
I knocked out of habit, also just in case Kimo was here for some reason. There was a wide, rectangular white box—tied shut with a yellow ribbon around it—sitting on her bed. The hotel boutiques had very nice, expensive items, but Diya had a sizable discount that she’d surely used.
Tugging the ribbon off, I lifted the cover to find a lace dress so gorgeous that it stole my breath. White lace overlay on silky fabric dotted with a pattern of small, bright lemons and jade green leaves. I pulled it out of the box, running my fingers across the rough, textured lace. It wasn’t a light dress but had some considerable weight and thickness to it. Holding it against me, I figured the knee-length, strapless dress probably fit. Diya had an acute sense when it came to sizing things up, typically needing to only pull one size off a rack and knowing it worked.
I stripped down and tried on the dress. And true to Diya’s accuracy, this stunning dress fit perfectly. How did she manage that with a strapless dress! The bust was snug enough that I didn’t worry about it slipping; even when I bent over, my breasts were never in danger of spilling out. There weren’t any weird bulges, either, with just a hint of cleavage. The waist was snug but breathable and the skirt flowed as I twisted one way then another. There was a pinkish-purple grosgrain belt in the box, probably optional, but I tried it on anyway. And wow, did it enhance the entire look, adding a burst of color and a flattering line to my silhouette. Not to mention, it brought out the purple in my hair.
I texted Diya.
Bhanu: This is gorgeous!
Diya: Did you try it on? Does it fit?
Bhanu: It’s perfect! How much did you spend!
Diya: You know I used my discount, so it wasn’t much. Don’t worry MOM. I knew you’d forget about the dress!
Ugh. She knew me so well. I had forgotten all about needing a dress.
Diya: Bitch, were you just going to go in shorts or something?
Bhanu: A pair of your slacks, at least.
Diya: You’re hopeless.
I typed as I swirled back and forth, giddy with the swishing of the dress. I typically preferred the comfort of joggers and slacks, but this dress felt absurdly opulent and beautiful. I felt beautiful. I might just wear this around the apartment.
Bhanu: I appreciate this, really. It’s so sweet of you, but the wedding isn’t a big deal. I just met these people.
Diya: One: I checked, and this couple is dropping a lot of money for a fancy wedding/reception, and I cannot have my sister representing my family in shorts. Two: Bitch a man is taking you to a wedding that HE’S IN, a wedding for his BEST FRIENDS…it’s a big deal. All of it.
I sighed, but there was no point in arguing with her, not without telling her the truth, in which case my parents would blow up my phone for a whole other reason and I’d never hear the end of this. A few more days of quiet would be nice.
Diya: I brought some shoes for you to try. In the closet. Borrow whichever you want.
Bhanu: Thanks, sis. Love you!
I opened the closet to find six pairs of dressy sandals, some with short heels, and the ever-daunting high heels.
After trying on, and walking around in, each pair multiple times, going on the tiled living room floor and outside in the grass to really test them, I decided on a pair of strappy sandals with a small heel. Let’s be real, high heels weren’t my thing. I didn’t have the best balance for them, my weight distribution resulted in sore feet and tender calves within minutes and terrible calf cramps later, and I’d probably slip and break an ankle.
Besides, no one was going to be looking at me.
Changing back into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, I carefully put away the dress, keeping it in Diya’s room so as not to disturb Sunny, before plopping onto the couch and sneaking into work. Because, of course, neither Google nor my company had delivered an offer email.
“Where were we?” Verifying all the cards that had been checked off, I was glad to see the steady progress being made in my absence.
