Page 16 of Party Favors

She pressed her lips together. “No. The best way to get over someone is to light his hair on fire.”

That made me laugh.

She smiled slightly, then let out a long sigh. “You’ve turned me into your unintentional cheerleader, Everly. Because you are altering the core of my personality, the least you can do is to get out there and find the man of your dreams. If for no other reason than I wouldn’t mind having the apartment to myself a few times a week.”

No way was that going to happen.

Poor Vella was about to be so disappointed.

CHAPTER SIX

“What is this place?” I asked her as we stood outside an actual hole in the wall. Well, not really. It had a door. But one that was so battered that it looked like it had survived an explosion and been welded back into place.

“You’ll see,” Vella said. “I think you’re really going to like it.”

Now I was concerned. She usually wasn’t a very good judge of things I would like.

We’d gone home after work and changed our outfits. She had insisted I wear something low cut and short, and I gave in. I did wear my coat, though, because November in New York was cold.

Vella had put on black pants, a black shirt, and black combat boots, and heavy eye makeup. She had a very “back off” thing going on, but she looked fantastic. I’d reminded her to wear a coat, but she’d ignored me. And predictably enough, within a few minutes of leaving the apartment, she was shivering, although she pretended she was fine.

I didn’t get it.

She had lent me a purple, clingy dress. It wasn’t the kind of thing I’d normally wear, and it surprised me that she actually owned something that wasn’t black.

She yanked on the busted door, and it creaked loudly as she got it open. We stepped inside and I gasped in surprise.

I had expected a tiny room, smoky air, and the general scent of desperation and resignation.

But the outside was deceptive. This bar had high ceilings, was brightly lit, and boasted several television screens all showing the same soccer game. The floors were polished, the countertop of the bar gleaming. There were a lot of people laughing, watching the game. It wasn’t overly crowded, but was definitely bustling. The most surprising thing was that it had a coat check—most bars in New York City didn’t. I gave them my coat. Vella took the ticket and stuck it into her back pocket. I was about to tell her that I could put it in my purse, but she was heading into the main area of the bar. I hurried behind her, tugging on the bottom of my dress.

“Are you going to tell me where we are?” I asked.

“This is a Monterran sports bar!” she announced, spreading her arms wide. “It’s the only place in New York that’s Monterra-themed, and I thought you could hang out here, get the vibe of the place, and use that as part of your research.”

“That’s ...” I trailed off, my mouth hanging open. “Incredibly thoughtful.”

I’d been mistaken. She could find things that I’d like.

“Don’t say that so loud,” she grumbled. “I don’t want anyone to hear you.”

“You don’t have to worry. The secret that you’re a nice person is safe with me,” I said.

She nodded, satisfied. “I also thought it would be the perfect place for you to meet someone. Maybe you’ll find your own ... What’s that king guy’s name again?”

“Nico.”

“Yes. Maybe there’s a Nico here,” she said, and it had me scanning the crowd of people gathered there with sudden interest.

The king of Monterra had a metric ton of paternal cousins who were also princes. They were most likely all in their home country, but some of them had to travel, right? What if one of them had come to New York and was here in this bar at this very moment?

And what would I do if I met an actual Monterran prince?

Honestly, I’d probably make some inarticulate sound and then pass out.

Vella said, “Okay, we need to divide and conquer. I’ll be over at the bar and you go sit at one of those tables.”

I felt my throat seizing. I put my hand on her arm. “Wait, you’re making me try and meet someone alone?” At the very least I had thought she’d be sitting next to me.

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