Alex Archer - Fury's Goddess

Not that she was here to flirt. She had a job to do. And finding the killer was the only important thing to her right now.

Except Pradesh was picking them up in an hour for the party in their honor.

Annja sighed. Nothing worse than having to put on a show for people. All she wanted to do was get out to the site of the murders. Apparently that would have to wait.

Her more immediate problem was what she was going to wear. Pradesh had been correct—she hadn’t brought a cocktail dress with her. Why would she? When Annja had booked her flight, the only thing she thought she’d need were a good pair of boots and her usual gear.

Mingling with high society hadn’t been on the agenda.

Until now.

Annja laid out her best shirt and pants. Eyeing them, she frowned. There was no way that outfit was going to pass muster with Hyderabad’s elite. Not a chance.

She wondered what time the stores downstairs closed. She had the credit card from the show and she could expense a new dress. But—

A knock at her door jarred her out of her thoughts. She peered through the peephole. One of the bellhops stood outside. Annja wrapped the robe a little tighter around herself and cracked the door.

“Yes?”

“Excuse me for disturbing you, Miss Creed. This was just delivered for you.”

He held out a garment bag and Annja reached for it. “Thank you.” She closed the door and laid the bag on the bed. A small card was tied to the hanger. Annja opened it.

I hope you don’t mind my taking the liberty of getting this for you.

—Dunraj

“Who the hell is Dunraj?” Annja asked aloud. She unzipped the garment bag.

The dress inside was gorgeous. A spaghetti-strap number in black with a line of understated jewels that wound down the dress. Annja recognized it immediately as one of Paris designer Nikolai Depue’s latest designs.

It must have cost a fortune.

She slipped the bathrobe off and stepped into the dress. It fit her like a glove and she couldn’t help but appreciate how good she looked in the mirror on the bathroom door, how well the dress fit her curves.

I don’t suppose my boots are going to look good with this, she thought. But then she noticed that bulge at the bottom of the garment bag. A pair of simple black leather heels. She stepped into them and instantly felt like a million dollars.

And that made her very uncomfortable. She didn’t even know who’d sent this outfit. She looked down at her khakis on the bed and was sorely tempted to put her own clothes on instead.

Just as she reached to unzip the dress, her phone rang. “Hello?”

“Annja? It’s Frank.”

Frank had a room on another floor. Annja wondered what he’d be wearing tonight. He didn’t exactly seem like the designer-suit type.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah. Some dude showed up at my door with a penguin suit—a freaking tuxedo. Can you believe it?”

“Actually, yes,” she said. “How does it fit?”

“Uh, it fits me perfectly. I have no idea who sent it, though. And I have even less of an idea how he knew my suit size.”

She studied herself in the mirror and then decided the dress would just have to do. After all, it would only be on her a couple of hours. “Let’s meet downstairs.”

Annja caught the elevator, and when the doors opened to the lobby, the first person she saw was Pradesh standing near the concierge station. He wore what Annja recognized as a sleek Pathani suit.

Pradesh’s eyes lit up when he saw Annja. “Forgive me for being blunt. You look incredibly beautiful.”

“Blunt is not necessarily a bad thing,” Annja said with a smile even though he had made her uncomfortable. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Pradesh gave her a short bow and then Annja heard the elevator ding behind her. Frank walked out. The tuxedo indeed looked good on him, but he didn’t have nearly the confidence to pull the look off. She could tell he felt uneasy.

“Very handsome,” she said as he approached.

“Very awkward,” he said quietly. “I feel like everyone is staring at me. And I don’t like it.” He pointed at her dress. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” Annja touched him on the arm. “You’ll be fine. Just try to relax.” She turned to Pradesh. “So, now what?”

“I’ll drive you to the party. It’s being held downtown at the offices of Dunraj Incorporated.”

“Did you say Dunraj?”

Pradesh nodded. “Yes, he’s one of the most influential residents of Hyderabad. He’s got an estimated wealth at around one billion dollars U.S.”

Frank whistled. “Wow.”

“Yes, his money generally elicits that reaction from people. It certainly seems to from the group Dunraj surrounds himself with. But there you go.”

“Money’s not everything,” Annja said. “He didn’t need to buy me this dress. I have clothes that would have been fine. Well, almost fine.”

Pradesh grinned. “So, is that where that came from? I wondered, but I thought it would be rude to ask. You both do look perfectly suited for the night ahead, however, so I guess Dunraj’s money was put to good use—at least in this case.”

Annja glanced at him. “Suited for the night ahead? And what exactly will this night entail?”

Pradesh smiled wider. “Oh, I imagine it will involve meeting an awful lot of people who have seen your show on television and who will wish to ask you all sorts of boring questions about your work and what you do. They’ll flatter you, no doubt, but each of them will want something. And they’ll prattle on at length about various topics you will probably have little to no interest in. You know, the usual prattling that occurs at these tiresome things.”

Annja raised her eyebrows.

He leaned forward. “I’ve been to one or two of these before. They get rather wearing. But such is the life of an inspector. I do my best to try to bear it, but there are times I find myself marveling at my own endurance.”

He led them outside to the Mercedes. Annja noticed it had been washed and waxed since their earlier trip from the airport. She again sat up front with Pradesh, while Frank maneuvered himself into the backseat, still acting incredibly pained about his outfit.

Annja caught his eye. “Frank, let it go. You look good, now just pretend like you know you look good and you’ll be fine.”

He fidgeted with his tie. “The last time I wore one of these things was my junior prom. And I hated it then. So much so, I refused to wear one for my senior prom.”

“What did you wear to that?” Pradesh asked.

“Shorts. Plus a bright red blazer. I looked wild.”

Annja shook her head. “That sounds like quite the night. Your date must have loved that.”

“Uh, yeah. We didn’t stay together for very long.”

“I wish I could say I’m shocked.” She laughed. “But shorts and a bright red blazer don’t exactly fit the picture of what most girls want their dates to wear to the prom.”

“What about what I wanted to wear?” Frank asked.

Pradesh chuckled. “From what I understand about American girls and their proms, what you wanted was never really up for discussion.”

“He’s right,” Annja agreed. “It’s all about the ladies.”

“It always is,” Frank grumbled. He lapsed into silence and Annja watched as the city passed outside of the window.

The sun was already below the horizon, and Annja marveled at the lights of the city. Hyderabad seemed very modern. She mentioned this to Pradesh, who nodded.

“We have a rich history, but we are also firmly embracing the future. People like Dunraj are at the forefront of this move forward. With the number of developments under way in the city limits, there is hope that we will overtake several other cities and become the economic hub of India.” He tilted his head. “That’s the plan, anyway. We’ll see if it becomes reality or not.”