Stiletto Sisterhood

Original Edition: Priya| Am I making myself clear?

Music thumped in a firm, steady beat—like a pulse—throbbing between the exposed brick walls. Dim lighting bounced off polished wood floors and sculpted tin ceiling, the kind of venue that was coolly dignified without trying too hard to impress.

She cast a quick smile as the hostess returned with her drink, a hibiscus and ginger infused mezcal martini and climbed up the narrow steps to the space between coat check and the restrooms overlooking the dance floor.

There, out of sight, she took the first testing sip and hummed with approval. It was sharp, sweet and sour with a firm kick at the end. Perfect. She sipped again, ginger warming her throat, hibiscus cooling her tongue. And watched Isobel, locked in conversation at the booth with an Asian in Tom Ford. They sat close enough so to talk without having to shout at one another.

They were closer now. So much closer.

And the sparks of attraction broke off them like waves against the shore. Hard, rolling and powerful. Scheisse, this was one hell of a matchup. No wonder Isobel couldn't hold her focus for more than a few straggling seconds before getting sucked back under. They'd barely sat down for all of twenty minutes before her head had been turned. When Priya had called her out on it, to her credit, she didn't whip her head around to look, but the strong blush rising in her cheeks had always been Isobel's tell.

I can't continue to view what happened with Kyle as a loss; I can't lose someone who didn't want to be a part of my life, Isobel had said when Priya questioned whether she was ready to take the first shaky step back into the dating pool. And you know what? Not everyone deserves to be. He didn't deserve to be.

The guy was gorgeous. And she knew a thing or two about losing herself within potent attraction. What she experienced with Hadrian was no small thing, despite all efforts to pretend otherwise, she was attracted to him in a way she couldn't explain...

He was an obstacle—a distraction she couldn't afford to cloud her focus, but knowing that didn't stop the whoremones. All he had to do was walk into a room and everything went hot, jittery—despite hitting the sheets with whoever else she could get her hands on, nothing cooled the need for him.

Isobel tucked her pin straight hair, blown out and glossy, behind her ear. A climber earring following the curve and highlighting its delicate shape as she slid into a rather passionate lip-lock. Pleased and more than little proud, Priya sank her teeth into her bottom lip, and barely resisted the urge to squeal.

"Kids," she sighed, dashing away a not entirely imaginary tear, "they grow up so fast." Smirking devilishly, she swirled the straw in her martini, rattling cubes of champagne ice. Neither of them were coming up for air anytime soon. A quick scan of the dance floor put her mind at ease. Isobel's guy hadn't come alone, and had required some stellar wing woman moves to lure them away for the two to have a moment alone.

After twenty minutes of dancing, followed by a classic bait and switch at the bar, Priya had passed off the duo to a small group of young girls with low standards provided it led to free drinks, and the guys themselves were more than happy to have more than a single girl between them. The handover had been flawless. A total win-win.

She thought she'd gotten away unseen until a hard body snaked up next to her in the empty upper level corridor.

"Hello Tiger."

Jerking hard as the sound of his voice sent a flurry of wicked chills to race across her spine, she glanced up at Hadrian, masking her surprise behind a frown. Scheisse! Think of Devil and apparently he will appear.

"Hey." Priya swallowed thickly. There was no point asking him what he was doing in the hottest lounge in Manhattan—it was developing a fierce reputation for bringing out the best of the best in the city, of course he'd be here.