Twelve Hours of Temptation by Shoma Narayanan Page A

under her breath as she worked on her latest writing project. The minor fact that they had a reservation at one of the most exclusive restaurants in town had completely slipped her mind.
    This time, though, it was hardly likely she’d forget the party, Melissa thought as Samir drove off. It was a kind of milestone in their relationship, because it was the first time she’d be meeting any of Samir’s family—the dinner was at his cousin’s home to celebrate her fifteenth wedding anniversary.
    ‘Nervous?’ Neera asked later as Melissa grabbed the bag with her evening clothes and headed off to the women’s room to change.
    Melissa grimaced. ‘A bit,’ she said. ‘Samir’s cousin is a total socialite. Not quite gossip column material, but she does a lot of fundraisers with NGOs and charities. I’ve never met that kind of person before—I’m dreading it.’
    ‘You’ll be fine,’ Neera said comfortably. ‘Just be confident and be yourself. What are you wearing?’
    It was easy, telling her to be herself, Melissa thought resentfully. Neera wasn’t the one who’d have to go meet a bunch of notoriously bitchy South Mumbai socialites, most of whom would look down their pedigree noses at her. And, while Samir hadn’t mentioned it, she knew that more than one woman had nursed hopes of hooking up with him—a lot of those pedigree noses had been put out of joint when she’d appeared on the scene.
    She pulled the dress she was planning to wear out of the bag and showed it to Neera. ‘Does it look OK?’ she asked. It was beige with a black trim and a deceptively simple cut that flattered Melissa’s slim figure, making her look taller and curvier at the same time.
    Neera wrinkled up her nose. ‘It’s nice enough, but it’s a little dull. Why aren’t you wearing the orange dress you bought when we went shopping together to Bandra? That looks great on you—really makes you stand out.’
    ‘I don’t want to stand out tonight. I want to blend in,’ Melissa retorted. There were several reasons why she’d chosen the beige over the orange—it looked classier, for one, and though it was cheaper it was a far better brand. Export surplus that sold at one fourth of the retail price—but hopefully no one at the party would know that.
    When she came out of the cubicle a few minutes later, Neera nodded in approval. ‘It looks a lot better with you in it,’ she said. ‘I wish I had a bust like yours. And a waistline like yours, for that matter. Come here and let me help you with your make-up.’
    Ten minutes later she was ready to go, and she slipped her feet into nude pumps as she waved to Neera and hurried out of the office and into the waiting car. ‘Mrs Kaul’s place in Malabar Hill,’ she told Samir’s driver.
    ‘Do we pick sahib up on the way?’ the driver wanted to know.
    Melissa shook her head. ‘No, he’s probably already there. He’s hitching a ride with a friend.’
    Except that he wasn’t—when she reached Priyanka Kaul’s plush flat she was told that Samir hadn’t yet arrived.
    ‘He messaged me to say that he’s running a little late,’ Priyanka said in her perfectly modulated voice. ‘But it’s so lovely to see you. Let me introduce you around to a few people so that you don’t get bored. Everyone knows Samir, and they’re dying to meet you.’
    As far as Melissa was concerned, she could think of nothing worse, but there was no way she could wriggle out of the introductions without being impossibly rude to her hostess.
    ‘So you’ve actually moved in with Samir?’ one of the women asked. She was skinny to the point of emaciation, and had evidently been smoking continuously for a while as the ashtray in front of her was loaded with cigarette butts. ‘That’s pretty unusual, isn’t it? Even in this day and age.’
    ‘Oh, it’s very common for advertising agency folk,’ another woman said. ‘I did a few weeks in an ad agency once when I was really bored. Pretty promiscuous, I