Page 142 of The Encore’s Crown

“He forgot his place when he spoke about the Malhotra's tonight.” Her mouth curves. “Papa and his friends here in L.A. won't appreciate that when I tell him. He'll also admire what you did.”

Dev Malhotra? Admire something I did? It feels almost impossible. I stare at her. She crosses one leg over the other and returns calmly to her crochet.

“It turns out you are not so small after all.”

She doesn’t look up, but she clears her throat before adding, “My driver will take you wherever you need to go.”

Radhika Malhotra.

A queen on her throne, pulling threads of the universe through her fingers while powerful men prepare to ruin someone on her behalf.

Even if I’m just a foolish jester who wandered out of her court, she’s still stunning to witness.

Chapter 48

2102

Kiri

Radhika’s driver has barely pulled away from her house when I text Rafe.

hows Nat?

His reply comes before we reach the bottom of the hill.

she’s OK

Kasia and I got her calmed down. Stefan upgraded her to a penthouse to distract her from tonight. PR machine shit engaged

her face when Kas showed her the room was good. cheered her up after that piece of shit

The relief washes over me. Then I message Elise.

what penthouse did Nat get moved to? i want to send her flowers from the band after that shit tnight

Smart idea. 2102.

I stare at the message.

2102.

Radhika’s driver drops me at the hotel and the elevator feels like it takes forever to get me to the top floor. Natalia’s suite is at the far end of the hall. I stop outside her door and knock. There’s a thud from inside, then the quick shuffle of footsteps. Then Natalia’s voice comes through, already exasperated.

“Kasia, I told you I’m fine. Go be with Rafe—”

She opens the door and the words die. She’s still wearing the black dress, though her heels are gone and her hair is down, falling around her face. Her makeup is smudged. She looks exhausted, shaken, and beautiful enough to wipe every sentence I'd practiced from my head.

“Kiri?” She opens the door another inch. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

Natalia looks past me into the hallway, then reluctantly pulls the door wider. I step into the entranceway. She closes it slowly behind me, keeping one hand wrapped around the handle as though she hasn’t decided whether she’s letting me stay or preparing to throw me straight back out. The suite opens into a massive living room with floor-to-ceiling windows, a marble bar, and enough furniture to host its own event.

“Stefan did good on the penthouse.”

She nods. “It was nice, he didn’t have to.”

“Fuck, the label should pay for this and more after what—” I stop myself. Her shoulders tighten anyway.