Page 117 of Deeper

Rajaa was shameful as he focused down at his plate. “I mean, Iamhere to help you, but you know Naz sent me here to spy.”

Nazanin huffed. “Am I supposed to apologize? Because I’m not sorry.”

An icky feeling of jealousy seeped into me. Nazanin only cared about Zander, loved him dearly to keep a watchful eye on him. Pryor, he would never do that for me.

How could I hate Nazanin for being a loyal and protective sister?

“You should get to know me first,” I spoke up. “Instead of making assumptions and monitoring how I manage my vagina.”

Paul gaped at me sideways, impressed. He made a show to clap his palms together lightly, as if I’d gained a point against Nazanin.

“Whether any one likes Bianka or not, she’s here to stay, becauseIlike her. I would hope that would be the most important thing here,” Zander said in my defense. “As it is, I wouldn’t even have this recent bout of success if it wasn’t for Bianka’s inspiration.”

“I’m sure she’s been compensated,” Nazanin mumbled as she forked at her chicken.

Zander closed his eyes, taking in a sharp breath through his nose, and I could tell he was trying to remain calm with his sister as he composed himself.

The very fact that he wasn’t allowing her to disrespect me meant so much.

For peace’s sake, I reached out and touched his shoulder. “Zander, it’s okay.”

His eyed flashed to me, narrowing. As if to disagree.

My heart swelled, feeling protected.

Nazanin wasn’t swayed either way. She faced her brother, and there was no missing the loving look in her eyes as her posture relaxed. “Dinner is amazing, Saad. Dad would be proud. You’ve got it as down as him.”

It wasn’t a truce, but a change of subject. So be it.

Dinner went on and I enjoyed every bit of the meal Zander had prepared. After, the doorbell rang and some associates from a boutique in town wheeled in three long racks of women’s clothing for Nazanin and me to choose from into Zander’s spacious living room.

“If you find something you like that doesn’t fit, just come by our store tomorrow and we’ll have it fixed for you,” a blonde with the nametagStassietold us.

“What are you wearing?” I asked as Zander hung back with Rajaa, prepared to leave the room.

“I’ve got this Frère burgundy blazer I’m wearing with this black top and black pants. Nothing too crazy.”

He left me alone with his sister and I wished he hadn’t, because at least with other people in the room it was easy to contain my temper and not attempt to swing at her.

Still, putting the best foot forward, I went in search for something to wear Saturday.

The Dymond Dinner was an esteemed event, but it was still summer. As I sifted through the rack of immaculate and costly dresses, I wasn’t won over by any of it. I wasn’t about to wear an evening gown just to hang out at a mansion party cookout.

I was just about to give up when I saw the perfect ’fit. A bandeau top and a long skirt with slits high up in the thighs. The top was black and the skirt was too, but after searching the rack once more, I managed to find it in burgundy, navy blue, and white as well. I grabbed the burgundy skirt and jumped for joy. With the right hairstyle and makeup, I would kill it.

Yasss.

I giddily grabbed the outfit from the rack on a job well done, already mentally planning to call in my hairstylist.

“So you want to work retail forever?” Nazanin again started up with her inquisition as she came over to my rack.

“No, I don’t,” I said honestly. “But I do like clothes. Styling our mannequins is my favorite part of my job, creating the different looks.”

Nazanin studied me, taking in my response and appearing thoughtful. In the end, she merely hummed and went about her search.

“That plum suit would look amazing on you,” I threw out. I wasn’t a hater. Bitchy or not, Nazanin Khalil was a beautiful woman. This type of event was made for people like her to come and show their grace.

Nazanin plucked the outfit from the rack and examined it. “I have no idea how I’m going to manage makeup and hair for this.”

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