Page 2 of Elusive Promise

"Neither would I," Anika agreed. "And I'm enjoying my single life. I'm sure you are as well."

"Yes."

"Have you seen my parents yet? They were really happy that you reached out to them."

"Reached out?" she echoed in surprise.

Before Anika could reply, she was distracted by a young woman wearing a conservative gray skirt and blazer, probably a staffer of some sort.

"Excuse me," Anika said, giving Parisa an apologetic smile. "I have to attend to something. Please enjoy yourself. Who knows? You might find yourself a handsome billionaire here. Westley invited many of his friends."

"That would be something," she murmured.

After Anika left, she made her way into the living room. The Kumars were standing in front of a massive stone fireplace, with a fire blazing behind them. It was early January, and the temperature outside was in the forties, with slushy, dirty snow lingering from a midweek snowstorm, but this room was warm and cozy.

Raj Kumar was a tall, lean man, whose once black hair was now pepper gray. His wife Kenisha was almost a foot shorter than her husband with brown hair, dark eyes and generous curves that were quite visible in her coral-colored silk dress. Both of them looked extremely happy as they chatted with their friends.

Since the Kumars were surrounded by people, she decided to wait a bit before approaching them. As she glanced around the room in search of the bride-to-be, her gaze caught on a man who was watching her in a way that set off an internal alarm.

He was quite attractive in a black suit with a white dress shirt and dark-maroon tie. His hair was dark brown and wavy, a little longer than a businessman might wear. His face was square, his features rugged, but clean shaven. She couldn't tell the color of his eyes, but they were light—maybe blue or green. His mouth had a cocky set to it that matched his confident stance, and while she could find nothing at all wrong with his appearance—in fact, there was quite a lot she liked about it—his gaze bothered her.

Then he smiled, and a shiver ran down her spine. She felt suddenly nervous, excited, with a knot in her throat.Why? Because a handsome man had smiled at her?She really needed to think about working on her social life.

She was just so often not herself when she was at a party like this. She'd forgotten what it was like just to flirt, without working some hidden agenda.

The man lifted his champagne glass in her direction, and she found herself doing the same. But despite their connection, he made no move in her direction.

She wondered who he was. He could be a friend of the groom-to-be, Westley Larimer. He appeared to be in the same age range—early thirties—and he had a look of wealth and sophistication about him.

"Parisa?"

She turned quickly at the sound of a familiar male voice and saw a tall, gray-haired man in his early sixties. It was Vincent Rowland, former FBI agent and father of Jamie Rowland, a fellow trainee at Quantico, who had tragically died during a training exercise. "Mr. Rowland, what are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.

She'd met Vincent on several occasions and had attended a memorial for Jamie the previous year. Vincent had always been friendly and charming, but there was also something about the man that bothered her. She just couldn't put her finger on it.

"Westley Larimer is my godson," he explained.

"Really? I had no idea."

"I was in his parents' wedding. Phillip and I have been friends for a very long time, and I've known Westley since he was born. What about you? What brings you to this engagement party? I didn't realize you were working out of New York."

"I'm not. I just came for the party."

"Do you know Westley?"

"No, I know his fiancée, Jasmine. I was actually just looking for her. Have you seen her?" She looked around the room, hoping to catch sight of Jasmine, but her gaze fell once again on the mysterious stranger. He didn't smile at her this time. Instead, he turned and walked toward the line for the bar.

"There is the happy couple now," Vincent said.

Following his gaze, she saw Jasmine and her fiancé walk into the room, holding hands. Jasmine wore a light-blue silk dress and had long brown hair that almost reached her waist, a petite frame, big brown eyes, and a rather fair complexion compared to the rest of her family.

Westley Larimer was a big guy, at least a few inches over six feet, with a long, lean build. He had dark-blond, short hair and rather plain features that were made more attractive by the smile on his face and the beaming pride in the woman at his side.

As Parisa's gaze dropped to their locked hands, she was almost blinded by the enormous diamond on Jasmine's finger. It had to be fifteen carats—at least. It was then she noticed the two men in dark suits flanking the couple, looking very much like well-dressed security guards.

"That ring is spectacular," she murmured, glancing at Vincent.

"A very rare and perfect blue diamond, 16.6 carats, worth around fifty million dollars. It has been hidden away for many years, however, because of the curse."

---