Page 84 of King of Envy

“Are you okay if I dip out for a minute?” he asked after we entered the ballroom. “I need to talk to Dante about something.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be fine.” I waved a hand around the lavish room. “I have plenty to keep me entertained.”

The gala was ocean-themed, and the organizers had somehow installed life-size aquariums on both ends of the room. There were free-flowing drinks, a live orchestra, acrobatic performers, and a fifteen-foot-tall ice sculpture of Poseidon. All the guests were dressed to the nines in varying shades of blue, green, and silver, including me.

After much deliberation, I’d selected a seafoam green silk tulle gown with a strapless bodice and a gorgeous, frothy skirt that cascaded to the floor in graceful layers. I’d kept my jewelry minimal except for a pair of show-stopping gold and green quartz earrings that grazed my shoulders and my engagement ring. The effect was simple but striking.

“Great.” Jordan gave me a distracted smile. “I’ll be right back.”

While he spoke with Dante, I wandered over to the main bar and ordered a water with a twist of lime. I’d slacked on my diet the past few weeks, and I was on a strict alcohol ban until the wedding.

“Tell him that’s unacceptable.” A furious voice brought my attention to the woman sitting a few stools down. “No, I will not co-chair with Sebastian Laurent. I don’t care if he’s the last man on—Mom. Please.” Her sigh encompassed a world of exasperation. “I understand, but can we discuss this later? I’m at the Valhalla gala. Okay, yes. Yes, I know. Good night.”

She hung up and rubbed her temple.

She was beautiful in a natural, effortless way. She had the shiniest hair and the longest, thickest lashes I’d ever seen. Her toned, athletic body was clad in an exquisite blue dress, and her smooth brown skin and sculpted cheekbones gave some of the models I knew a run for their money.

She also looked oddly familiar. With a start, I realized she’d been at my bachelorette. She was one of Sloane’s other clients.

She must’ve felt my eyes on her before she dropped her hand and glanced at me.

“Sorry,” I said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but…you’re Maya, right? I think you were at my bachelorette.”

It was an odd way to meet. Most brides wouldn’t allow strangers to join their premarital celebrations, but nothing about this wedding was normal.

“I was.” Maya brightened. “Thanks for letting me tag along. I was with Vivian since she’s planning my birthday party, and when the call came in, Ihadto come. I hadn’t played laser tag in ages.” Her expression turned sheepish. “I hope it wasn’t weird, since we…”

“Barely know each other?” I smiled. “It’s okay. It was a fun time, and I enjoy meeting new people.”

“Good. I know we’ve technically met, but I’m going to reintroduce myself anyway.” She held out her hand. “Maya Singh. Happy to be a backup bridesmaid if you need one since I’ve already crashed your bachelorette.”

I laughed and shook her hand. “Ayana Kidane. I’ll add your name to my backup roster.”

Maya’s grin widened. Sloane had introduced us at the laser tag venue, but there’d been so many people and so much going on that we didn’t get a chance to really talk.

Singh.It was a common surname. But given her presence at Valhalla, Maya had to be one oftheSinghs—a large and extraordinarily wealthy family who’d made a killing in the frozen foods industry. They’d since expanded their empire to include snacks, beverages, and confectionaries, among other things.

Basically, you couldn’t walk into a single supermarket or convenience store without seeing at least a dozen brands that fell under the Singhs’ corporate umbrella.

“Well, I’m invited to the Ireland reception, so you’ll see me regardless.” Maya shook her head. “I can’t believe the church ceremony was moved up by several months. I understand why it’s necessary, but you’re better than me because the change would’ve sent me spiraling.”

“It’s not ideal,” I admitted.

“Are you excited about the reception at least?” Maya signaled the bartender for another drink.

“Of course.” My voice pitched a little higher than I would’ve liked.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to bullshit me. I know what those big weddings are like.” She rolled her eyes. “When my older sister got married, my parents invitedeveryonethey knew. I kid you not, there were two thousand guests at the Indian ceremony. My sister never even met half those people, but theyhadto be on the guest list or it would be ‘socially unacceptable.’”

“There’s going to be seven hundred guests at ours. It’s not two thousand, but I feel you.” I grimaced. “That receiving line is going to be torture.”

“Wear comfortable shoes and bring hand sanitizer,” Maya advised. “Or just drink so much champagne they all blur into one giant conga line of smiles and congratulations.”

I laughed again. I wished we’d had a chance to talk more at my bachelorette. There was something about her that instantly put me at ease.

Our conversation gradually shifted from wedding woes to travel, fashion, and our mutual dislike of pumpkin-flavored foods and drinks (it was fall, so they were everywhere, but I was a sweet potato person).

Maya was surprisingly down to earth for someone whose family was worth several billion dollars. It was also nice to finally chat with someone who had zero ties to my work. She wasn’t involved in the modeling world, and we didn’t have a professional relationship. She was just someone I clicked with.

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