Chapter 14

"I think I've finally made it to heaven," Kia sighs, sinking deeper into the plush spa chair.

I smirk, swirling my martini. "Kia, you're definitely not going to heaven but you're right. This is probably as close as you'll ever get."

We're sprawled out in oversized chairs, the scent of lavender filling the air as nail techs work their magic on our hands and feet. Smooth jazz hums softly in the background, the clink of our martini glasses cutting through it as we toast to a rare afternoon of pure, unapologetic luxury.

"What design should I get on my nails?" I ask, eyeing my freshly shaped, clean nails, already picturing the endless possibilities.

I love how they are looking. A little red on the tips of my thin ring cladded fingers and nails perfectly almond shaped.

Kia takes a slow sip of her martini, her eyes narrowing like she's actually putting in some serious thought. She taps her finger against the armrest, then finally shrugs. "I don't know."

I blink at her. "Seriously, Kia?"

She gives me a look. "What, Iliana? You're the creative one here." Then she leans in a bit, her tone shifting to something more serious. "But whatever you choose, make sure it's sharp. We need to look flawless tonight it's a big deal. We're slipping hints about the new collection to the potential buyers, and first impressions?" She gestures around us. "They start right here."

"Good point. Nothing says 'trust me with your money' like a killer manicure."

"Did you make reservations at Zaden's restaurant?" Kia asked, raising a perfectly arched brow over her martini glass.

I let out a sharp laugh, nearly choking on my drink. "Oh, absolutely. Because nothing screams self-respect like booking a table at his restaurant after he pulled the classic 'I'll text you' and then poof disappeared into the abyss."

Kia snorts. "He did ask for your number though."

"Exactly! He asked, I gave, and then? Radio silence. No text, no call, not even 'sorry I sent this by mistake' or 'send this to ten people for good luck' ". I mean, who does he think he is? Some brooding, mysterious chef who can just ghost me and still expect me to roll into his restaurant all starry-eyed?"

She pauses, quirking her head. "Well...yes."

I glare at her. "You're not helping."

Kia smirks. "I'm just saying, Iliana. The man's got that dark, tortured 'I-make-five-star-risotto-but-I'm-dead-inside' vibe, and apparently, you're into that."

I groan dramatically.

Kia deadpans. "So... should I make the reservation?"

I hesitate for a beat before sighing. "Obviously. But I want him to sweat when he sees me walk in."

"Done. I'll tell them to dim the lights and cue the slow-motion entrance."

"Just Perfect."

"You're far too beautiful to be ignored, miss," the nail tech, Angela, says with a warm smile, carefully painting a glossy coat on my nails. "You really should forget about him. In fact, my son just returned from abroad. He's doing quite well for himself—he's a doctor—"

"Angela!" her partner hisses from the next station, eyes wide with horror.

I bite back a laugh, turning to Angela with an amused grin. "A doctor, huh? Now that's tempting. I've always said I need someone who can handle the emotional trauma I inflict... professionally."

Kia nearly chokes on her martini. "Ana, forget the asshole, go for the doctor!

You have always introduced yourself as one and now you are getting a partner as a doc."

I waggle my freshly painted fingers in the air. "You're not wrong. Plus, nothing says stability like a man who can perform surgery and still make it home for dinner."

Angela beams. "Exactly! He's very responsible."

I chuckle, placing a hand over my heart. "Angela, you're a gem. We'll have to take you and your partner out to dinner one night on me. You can tell me all about your son, and I'll pretend I'm seriously considering settling down."

Everyone's still giggling, the air thick with amusement, when I throw Kia a teasing grin.

"Ladies, you know little old Kia here also fancies a man," I say, swirling my martini with a wicked smile.

Kia practically chokes on her drink. "I do not fancy Adrian!" she snaps, her glare sharp, but the faintest blush betrays her.

I smirk. "Interesting. I never said Adrian. But if the shoe fits, be my Cinderella."

Angela and Kate, both older women with the kind of life experience that makes them pros at spotting drama, freeze mid-brush stroke. Their hands keep working, but their attention is locked on us like they're watching the best soap opera they've seen in years.

Angela gasps, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Adrian? Oh, honey, he sounds like trouble."

Kate chuckles, her voice raspy with age and wisdom. "Mmm, the rich ones always are. Let me guess, he's got that cocky charm women pretend to hate but secretly love?"

"Oh, he's got charm alright. Runs his own business, loaded, and Zaden's best friend," I say, grinning. "Basically, the poster boy for 'bad decisions Kia's definitely considering.'"

Kia groans. "He's loud, he's arrogant, and he thinks he's the main character. Not my type."

Kate snorts. "Sweetheart, that's everyone's type at least once."

Angela laughs, waving her nail brush like a wand. "I give it a month. Two tops."

Kia sighs, but even she's grinning now. "I should've gone to a boring spa."

I wink. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Alright, enough chaos for one afternoon," I say, sliding off the spa chair and grabbing my martini for one last sip. "Let's go home we only have six hours to get ready."

Kia's eyes widen. "Six hours? That's barely enough time for me to look effortlessly flawless!"

Angela chuckles, capping her nail polish. "Honey, with that attitude, you'll need eight."

Kate grins, patting Kia's hand. "And don't forget confidence is half the look. The other half? Expensive shoes."

I laugh, grabbing my bag. "Good thing we've got plenty of both."

As we head out, Angela calls after us with a teasing grin, "Remember, if Adrian's there tonight, flash those nails and make him sweat a little! And don't forget about my son, Iliana! But do forget about Zaden."

"Marissa just texted—she and Hayley will be here in ten," Kia says, reapplying her deep red lipstick in the car mirror, her diamond-studded hoops catching the light as she tilts her head.

We're parked in front of Rey's, my sleek black Ferrari gleaming under the streetlights, waiting for Dumb and Dumber to finally show up.

I let out a slow breath, adjusting the delicate strap of my fitted black silk dress. The plunging neckline paired with a thigh-high slit screams elegance and power, perfectly matched with my strappy Louboutins and a minimalist diamond choker.

Kia sits beside me in a figure-hugging emerald green gown, its satin fabric glistening as it catches the light. Gold accents on her heels and a matching cuff bracelet complete her look, her dark curls cascading down her shoulders in effortless waves.

"Typical," I mutter, glancing at the time. "They said ten minutes, which probably means thirty."

I grab my phone, flick it open, and hit record for a voice message to Marissa.

"If you two aren't here in ten minutes, you're both fired. I'm not kidding—consider this your official warning," I say, my tone sharp but laced with that signature sass. "And just so you know, I'm currently high on adrenaline and a borderline dangerous amount of champagne, so I'm in the perfect headspace to make rash, life-ruining decisions... and I absolutely will, even if I ugly-cry about it later."

I pause for dramatic effect before adding, "So unless you want your severance package delivered with a side of my emotional breakdown, hurry up."

Kia snorts. "Nice. Nothing like a mild threat sprinkled with a little unhinged energy."

I flash her a smug grin. "Keeps them on their toes."

Exactly eight minutes later, a navy blue Audi Q3 pulls up beside my Ferrari, its engine humming politely like it knows it's parked next to royalty. Heh.

The doors fling open, and out tumble Marissa and Hayley in full-blown chaos mode: heels in one hand, tiny purses in the other, and, for some reason, mini bottles of vodka clutched like survival kits.

"Seriously?" I mutter, watching as Hayley nearly drops her purse but recovers with a flailing spin that's more luck than skill.

Marissa slams her car door shut only for the hem of her sparkly silver dress to get caught. She yanks it once, then again, but it stays stubbornly wedged.

"Hayley! Help me!" she huffs, tugging like it's a life-or-death situation.

Hayley stumbles over, her stilettos clicking wildly against the pavement. They both bend down at the exact same time crack their foreheads collide with a loud thud.

"OW! Marissa, my frontal lobe!" Hayley yelps, clutching her head.

"You didn't have much going on there anyway," Marissa fires back, though she's rubbing her own forehead.

Kia lets out a small smile. "God, I love this show."

"I love that I hired people like me." I squeal.

Marissa, now muttering under her breath, pops the car door back open and finally frees her dress, holding it up triumphantly like she just conquered Mount Everest.

I lower my window, giving them a dry stare. "You two look like outtakes from a low-budget reality show."

Hayley holds up her mini vodka like it's a trophy. "But we made it!"

"Barely. And you're both hanging by a thread," I say, pinching my fingers together for effect. Then proceeded to laugh because I can't maintain a straight serious face for the life of me.

Hayley holds up her mini vodka triumphantly. "Speaking of! It's tradition."

"Yay! Kiss whoever made this tradition," I say, snatching the mini vodka bottle right out of Hayley's hand before she can protest.

"You did," Kia deadpans, raising a brow.

I pause mid-twist of the cap, then grin. "Well, clearly, I'm a genius. Don't kiss me though, I will pepper spray you. Instead someone buy me flowers."

"Or a drink," Hayley chimes in, reaching for another mini bottle from her purse like a magician pulling endless scarves.

"Hayley, how many of those do you have?" I ask, half impressed, half horrified.

She shrugs.

"Fair," Kia mutters, cracking open her own mini vodka.

We clink bottles again.

"To Drama, Diamonds, and Dolce.," I declare.

"Obviously," they echo in unison before we toss back the shots.

"Let's get this party started," I declare with a grin, tossing the empty mini bottle aside as I swing my door open. We step out of the car, the night air instantly hitting me, and the anticipation of the evening kicks in.

Kia and I exchange a look. We may be partners, but tonight, we're taking charge. Together, we own this night, this room, this restaurant.

The power we ooze is undeniable. Every step, every move, every glance we exchange says we've earned our place at the top. Our heels click in perfect sync, echoing off the polished floors like a quiet warning: don't mess with us.

Heads turn as we walk through the restaurant, eyes following us from the bar to the tables. It's like we've entered our kingdom.

Marissa and Hayley trail behind in pink and blue sleeveless gowns, both beautiful in their own right, their energy buzzing with excitement.

Hope this night goes well.