Page 11 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

Dressed in a bespoke suit, Sameer was already in the living room when we stepped out. He looked gorgeous, a perfect consort for the goddess that was Tara.

“Damn!” he said, his eyes flitting between the two of us. “I can’t decide who looks more beautiful!”

“That, my jaan, is the correct reaction,” Tara said and placed a light kiss on his lips.

“Riya called,” he said. “Everyone is waiting for us.”

“We’re ready,” Tara said, picking up her clutch and threading her arm through mine.

“Hold on, I need to put on my heels,” I called as I slipped my feet into them and grabbed my clutch from the coffee table.

We drove to Southlake and pulled into the compound of a mansion-esque house. It was flanked by lush green lawns and impeccably trimmed hedges. Autumnal flowers complemented the shrubbery, swaying gently in the evening breeze. A valet appeared when we arrived and drove the car away. Sameer pulled open an unlocked door, and we heard the small crowd already gathered in the living room.

Sameer’s mother, a striking woman who defied her age, welcomed us with warmth as we stepped into the foyer. Behind her, a delicate, slender woman in an evening gown stood with a young child in her arms. Judging by the familial features and the expensive clothing, I guessed it was Juhi.

“Badi Ma!” a girl’s voice yelled from the second floor. “Is Tara here? I need her help!”

It was Riya.

“Tara, you go mingle,” I offered. “I’ll see what she needs.”

I had met Riya when she had come to New York with Sameer, and we had spent some fun days together while he’d helped Tara wrap up her life in the city.

“Thank you,” Tara, Sameer, and Amrit aunty said in unison.

I returned a nod, and as they streamed away from the foyer into the living room, I climbed the winding stairway to the second floor.

“Hey, troublemaker,” I called, trying to figure out which room in the elaborate labyrinth was hers.

“I’m here,” Riya called from a room at the end of a long corridor.

“Hello, hello, what’s the problem?” I asked as I entered.

“Wow, look at you!” she said and flopped onto her bed. “Your makeup is snatched!”

“Thank you!” I preened with a dramatic curtsy. Teaching young people at a university had its perks. One of them was being current on the latest slang. I was a thirty-something Urban Dictionary on legs. “Okay, what’s the holdup?”

“Multiple things. One, this hair is not behaving. Two, the zipper on my goddamn gown, and then there’s the makeup situation.”

“Hmm,” I said. “I see you swear like your brother.”

“Does that bother you?” She provoked me with a narrowed gaze, but I was a champion of dealing with stubborn, impudent youngsters.

“Not in the least.” I smiled sweetly. “But maybe you could add a little flair and learn some new words. Your brother can teach you.” I turned her to face the mirror and zipped her gown.

“Yeah, or Mihir.” She snorted as I began to fix her hair.

“Him too, eh?” I caught myself feeling warm at his mention.

“Oh yeah, big time! He’s a scary dude.”

“How so?” I picked a bobby pin from a trinket holder and pushed it into her hair.

She pulled her brows together. “You know how close he and Sameer are. It’s like Sameer is sometimes the cool brother I always wanted and sometimes the okay brother I’m willing to tolerate. But Mihir is the intimidating older brother I never asked for.”

I chuckled at her description. She was a clever, sharp-witted girl.

“He hardly cracks a smile,” Riya added.

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