The crystal goblets reflected the Dubai sunset, turning the liquid amber into liquid fire. Emma frost held hers with diamond-tipped fingers, the transformation extending from her knuckles to the tips of her index and middle fingers, enough to remind anyone who saw her what she was capable of.

"This Burgundy is an insult," she muttered, not addressing anyone in particular. "Who selects the wine for these events? The interns?"

The click of heels answered before she saw her. That distinctive, arrogant rhythm of designer shoes against marble—slow, deliberate, perfectly spaced.

Vaira Singhania approached like a queen granting audience. No floating tonight. No mechanical arms. Just her, on the ground like everyone else—except nothing about her was like everyone else. Her presence made the marble beneath her heels seem privileged to be touched.

"Emma." A single word. Drawn out. Grateful. As if she were inspecting a particularly well-bred horse.

"Vaira." Emma's lips curved. Blue against porcelain. "No wings tonight? I almost don't recognize you with your feet on the ground."

"Darling, even goddesses descend occasionally." Vaira's brown eyes scanned the room with practiced disdain. "I saw the guest list. Three tech billionaires who amassed their fortunes with stolen ideas. Two actresses who mistake Instagram followers for talent. And that's…?" She paused, a flash of genuine horror across her sharp features, "...a TikToker?"

"A familiar guest. Apparently." Emma's diamond fingers drummed against her glass. The sound wasn't right. Crystal on diamond. Perfectly wrong. "I read her file. She has the brainpower of a wet piece of cardboard."

"And they let her breathe our air." Vaira extende her arm, taking an appetizer from a passing tray. She examined it like a scientist studying bacteria. "What's this supposed to be?"

"Foie gras. With gold leaf. Very 2019," Emma replied. Vaira pursed her lip. Her robotic hand placed the remaining morsel back on the tray. The waitress, trained in discretion, vanished without a trace. Good. Servants should be invisible.

"Your diamond is on display," Vaira observed, nodding at Emma's hand.

"You're always on display." Emma looked at the vaira dress. "Have you considered wearing long skirts? Your thighs can't breathe."

"Have you considered that turning parts of yourself into rocks makes you look like you're overcompensating for something?"

They held each other's gaze. Three seconds. Five. Then, simultaneously, the corners of their lips twitched.

"You're impossible," Emma said.

"I'm inevitable." Vaira approached, crouching slightly to be at eye level.. "How was Geneva?"

"Boring. The Swiss have perfected mediocrity. They should offer courses on it." Emma finally took a sip of the burgundy, grimaced, and set it aside. "Your acquisition in Bombay?"

"Completed before breakfast. The CEO cried. Men always do when you take away their toys." Vaira crosses her arms beneath her prominent breasts "I offered him a severance package. Very generous. He'll never work in his field again, but he can be a consultant. For companies that aren't mine."

"Benevolent."

"I try."

Both laugh elegantly

"All parties are beneath us. That's why we attend—to remind everyone."

"And yet I'm bored."

"Boredom is the price of superiority, Emma. You know this."

Emma's eyes—that impossible ice blue—finally met Vaira's directly. The temperature between them dropped several degrees, then rose again as mutual recognition warmed it. "You're the only person in this hemisphere who doesn't bore me, Vaira. Should I be concerned?"

Vaira's perfectly pedicured hand reached out and smoothed out an invisible crease in Emma's sleeve. "We should be concerned together. It's more elegant."

"Together." Emma tasted the word. "Dangerous."

"Only for them."