Abhijat took a small sip from the glass the bartender had handed him seconds ago. He didn’t even know what it was he was drinking, but it gave him an excuse to look away from Rinisa to try and get his thoughts under control. And for that, he was grateful.

The drink burned his throat on its way down, a temporary distraction from the thundering of his own heart. Rinisa couldn’t be serious. She was just yanking his chain, testing how far she could go before he called her bluff. He knew all that, and yet...

On this, he couldn’t afford to be wrong.

Sitting on the stool beside him, her feet dangling in the air, Rinisa reminded him uncannily of Fasih. And of the fact that they were both far more dangerous than they seemed to be.

“What do you want from me?” he ground out at last, after a few moments had passed in uncomfortable silence.

“A very small favor, actually,” she said sweetly, taking a sip of her own reddish drink before setting it down on the counter. “I want you...need you...to ensure that Fasih doesn’t show up to the New Year’s gala the day after tomorrow.”

Abhijat threw his head back and laughed. It sounded strained and bitter, even to his own ears. “Are you insane? Wait, don’t answer that question.” He shook his head. “I’ll do no such thing. And you, Ms. Rayeek, should be careful with your words. Someone might even accuse you of treason, if you keep saying things like that.”

Rinisa leaned sideways towards Abhijat, and the tips of her fingers lightly touched his knee under the counter. “I’m not the traitor here,” she said softly. “And we both know it. I’m not the one who stole the premiership by destabilizing the central government based on manufactured accusations against the former PM.”

Abhijat stiffened in his seat. Whether it was because of what Rinisa was saying or the way she was touching him, he couldn’t tell. For some reason, he found both vaguely distasteful, although he knew she’d said nothing but the truth.

Her hand resting lightly on his thigh, Rinisa leaned further into his space. “Why’re you so desperate to protect the man who ruined your family?” she whispered. “Destroyed your father’s reputation, your sister’s future...

“What could Jehan Fasih possibly have offered you that’d make his actions acceptable? Forgivable?” Her voice turned suggestive, almost sleazy. “Was it money? Or perhaps something more...personal in nature?”

Abhijat’s blood boiled in his veins. She was goading him, trying to get a rise out of him. He knew that. And yet, that knowledge didn’t change a single thing. “I’m not a sellout,” he growled through gritted teeth. His fists clenched under the counter. If they hadn’t been in public, he would’ve been sorely tempted to strangle her.

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“And yet, you refuse to move against him.” Her eyes remained fixed on the drink in her hand.

“Protecting the prime minister is my job description, Ms. Rayeek. It’s my duty to make sure Fasih is safe. And I don’t need to forgive him to do my job. I may not be a sellout, but I’m not a traitor either.”

She arched a delicate eyebrow. “And you’re willing to lose your family on the line of ‘duty’, I suppose?”

“Vague threats don’t make for convincing arguments. And you’re beginning to sound a bit like a broken record now.”

Rinisa smiled coyly and removed her hand from Abhijat’s thigh, placing her elbows on the counter and resting her chin on her interlaced fingers. “I don’t know about you, but murdering the former deputy PM qualifies as something more than a ‘vague threat’ in my book.”

“That’s just speculation.”

Rinisa chuckled primly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Ah yes, speculation. Everything about him seems to be just that, no? Did he frame Prime Minister Shian?” She raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “Did he manipulate and then kill Badal? Who knows? Did he conspire with his old friend to put your sister behind bars? Surely not.”

She paused, and Abhijat could feel her eyes on him, gauging him. “Did he collude with foreign powers to bribe Badal and win his support, only to have him killed once he had outlived his usefulness and become more trouble than his worth? Why, what a treasonous thought would that be! Surely not something patriots such as yourself should think about.”

A chill ran down Abhijat’s spine. He wanted to think she was lying, but she wasn’t wrong. Fasih had framed his father and had tried to do the same to his sister for his own ends. He’d gained the premiership through deceit and subterfuge, not giving a damn about the collateral damage he caused. And Abhijat knew for a fact how manipulative Fasih could be when he wanted to be.

He didn’t want to believe he’d been working for a murderer all these months; that Naijan was even now under the command of a cold-blooded killer. But that didn’t mean what she was saying couldn’t be true.

“The man they arrested for Badal’s murder has retracted his statement,” he said through gritted teeth, knowing full well how flimsy an excuse that was. He was clutching at straws, and Rinisa knew that as well as he did.

“And it never occurred to you that he might’ve been bribed? Blackmailed?”

The glass he’d been holding creaked ominously, and Abhijat set it down on the counter, lest it break in his grip. “Why’d he want to kill Badal now, after all this time? What would it achieve? Fasih already has everything he ever wanted.”

“And hence, he has everything to lose. More so than he ever did before. So if Badal had suffered an attack of conscience, if he’d threatened to reveal everything to the media… There really was only one way out of that mess for Fasih.

“And now, he knows that if he’s formally investigated for the murder, he’ll have to step down. If that happens, there’s a good chance that your father will be reinstated as prime minister.

“Jehan knows as well as we do, how popular Rajat Shian was during most of his term in office. And his popularity has only grown over the last few months, after the initial outcry over those ridiculous allegations died down. If he loses the premiership to your father now, Jehan knows he’ll never win it back. And that is a chance he can’t afford to take.”

“You say that like there’s something he can do about it. If the investigation turns up any evidence of his guilt–”

“The investigation?” she laughed. “Who cares about the investigation? It wouldn’t go that far if Fasih has anything to say about it.”