Stiletto Sisterhood

Chapter One

Shucking off the trousers, Priya folded them across her lap. "This is a disaster."

"We can salvage this." Caitlin spun a finger at Priya, taking in the train-wreck ensemble with a narrowed gaze. "The skirt's vintage Valentino, yes?"

A smile pushed at the corners of Priya's lips. Trust Caitlin to sniff out a label. "Yes."

"Classic A-line. Tasteful. Not a deal breaker for an interview of this magnitude." With a giddy wiggle of her shoulders, Caitlin plucked the jacket out of the garment bag and shoved it at her. "Put this on. It was meant to be a bit oversized, so it should fit."

Priya slid on the jacket—definitely a size too big—while Caitlin attacked her mane of thick black hair, twisting it up into a tight chignon, somehow taming it into submission with bobby pins and ChapStick, then added a silk scarf tied in a loose knot around Priya's neck for a final flourish.

"Et voilà!"

Priya frowned despondently at the picture Caitlin snapped on her phone. "I look like a hungover stewardess for a cheap airline."

"Do not insult my masterpiece." She chef-kissed her fingers. "I call it Tequila-Hoe-Chic."

"Hilarious."

"I thought so."

Priya removed the scarf and handed it back to Caitlin. "Less is more, right?"

"In the words of the great Coco Chanel, absolutely. You could use a bit of mascara to brighten those bloodshot eyes, though."

"Fresh out."

"Lipstick?"

"Lost it along with my panties, apparently."

"I'm sorry." Caitlin pushed her face so close to Priya's that she was all eyes and nose. "Repeat that for me but slower."

Priya hung her head. "I lost my panties in some guy's Fifth Avenue apartment."

Caitlin sputtered, blinked, and then doubled over in rib-cracking hysterics. "Stop," she cackled in a rasp that pushed well beyond laughter into out of breath. "Oh, it hurts. It hurts. I can't!"

Priya tucked her tongue into the pocket of her cheek. "Are you finished?"

"Almost." She straightened, eyes glistening with tears. "Oh wow. That's my workout for the week. Did you at least search the place before jumping into the cab?"

"Of course!" After tumbling ass-first out of bed when the alarm went off, Priya had hunted for her clothes like a deranged maniac, starting with the pale-pink pleated skirt by the foot of the bed and black Louboutin heels near the door with her purse on top and all her remaining cash, cards, and ID tucked inside. Everything was accounted for, except her underwear. Hot-pink lace—hard to miss and even harder to lose. Yet she had done just that.

And now she was minutes away from sitting down in front of her literal idol, bare-assed with tequila fumes wafting from her pores like expired perfume.

"It was a studio. Not like there were many places they could've gone. He—whoever I hooked up with last night—must've taken them."

"Ew." Caitlin's nose scrunched with a scowl. "He's a panty thief?"

"Apparently. But he had the decency to pay for a loaded breakfast before ghosting me while I drooled into the pillow." Not that she'd had time for anything more than finger-brushing her teeth. She'd snatched a pancake on the way out and inhaled it in the elevator, nearly choking on the damn thing. "I don't remember his name, and I'd barely even know what he looked like if it wasn't for the video."

"Stop." Caitlin flagged a hand like an officer halting traffic. Or a criminal. "First, you need to lay off the shots—think of the brain cells. Second, you own those pants now." She nodded toward Priya's lap. "Third, you have a video, and you're only just telling me now?" Her chin lowered to match her hushed voice. "Is it good?"

"Good enough that I wish my booze-addled brain had left the memory intact."

"Ah, tequila. She's a cruel bitch to us all, yet you gotta love her style."

"Miss." The driver rapped a hairy knuckle against the partition. "Your stop is up ahead. Where'd you want me to drop you?"

"At the corner would be great."

"All right, skank." Caitlin set her hands on Priya's shoulders as the cab jerked to a halt. "Best advice I can offer you is to keep your head high and pull your shoulders back. You are Priyanka Victory fucking Seth." She punctuated each syllable of her name with a heaving shake. "Founder of the
Stiletto Sisterhood, queen of any room she walks into, a force to reckon with—goddess extraordinaire—even without undies. Shall I continue?"

Now Priya did laugh. "No, that's plenty. Thank you."

"Good. Because if anyone can turn a walk of shame into a stride of pride, it's you."

Caitlin slid out of the backseat first and held the door open as Priya struggled to steer herself across the sticky fake leather, and she felt a lick of sympathy for all those scandalized socialites who'd been caught with a lens up their skirts while exiting a car.

"Careful, Britney. Don't want to give someone a heart attack."

"It's not as easy as it looks." Sighing, Priya smoothed down her skirt, grateful there was no tunneling wind. The last thing she needed right now was an impromptu Marilyn Monroe moment. Torn between a laugh and a groan, she hugged Caitlin tight. "I owe you for this."

"Slay this interview and we'll call it even. Go get 'em,
G.I. Jane. See what I did there?" She smacked a hand to Priya's butt. "Because you're commando." Laughing, Caitlin jumped back into the cab, blew a kiss through the open window, and sped off.

Head swimming, heart racing, Priya took a moment to gather herself. This was it. No turning back now. "Chin up," she whispered. "Game face on."