Fury's Goddess. Alex Archer

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      Chapter 3

      The hotel was gorgeous. As Annja walked into the bedroom from the steaming-hot shower she’d just enjoyed, she couldn’t help but appreciate the thick shag carpet. She curled up on the bed and gave serious thought to falling right to sleep. The flight had been long, and with the stress of having to shepherd Frank through customs, she was exhausted.

       Thank goodness Pradesh showed up. She smiled. He was a handsome man, and she hadn’t seen a wedding ring on his finger. Although maybe that was because he didn’t wear one while he worked.

       Not that she was here to flirt. She had a job to do. And finding the killer was the only important thing to her right now.

       Except Pradesh was picking them up in an hour for the party in their honor.

       Annja sighed. Nothing worse than having to put on a show for people. All she wanted to do was get out to the site of the murders. Apparently that would have to wait.

       Her more immediate problem was what she was going to wear. Pradesh had been correct—she hadn’t brought a cocktail dress with her. Why would she? When Annja had booked her flight, the only thing she thought she’d need were a good pair of boots and her usual gear.

       Mingling with high society hadn’t been on the agenda.

       Until now.

       Annja laid out her best shirt and pants. Eyeing them, she frowned. There was no way that outfit was going to pass muster with Hyderabad’s elite. Not a chance.

       She wondered what time the stores downstairs closed. She had the credit card from the show and she could expense a new dress. But—

       A knock at her door jarred her out of her thoughts. She peered through the peephole. One of the bellhops stood outside. Annja wrapped the robe a little tighter around herself and cracked the door.

       “Yes?”

       “Excuse me for disturbing you, Miss Creed. This was just delivered for you.”

       He held out a garment bag and Annja reached for it. “Thank you.” She closed the door and laid the bag on the bed. A small card was tied to the hanger. Annja opened it.

      I hope you don’t mind my taking the liberty of getting this for you.

      —Dunraj

       “Who the hell is Dunraj?” Annja asked aloud. She unzipped the garment bag.

       The dress inside was gorgeous. A spaghetti-strap number in black with a line of understated jewels that wound down the dress. Annja recognized it immediately as one of Paris designer Nikolai Depue’s latest designs.

       It must have cost a fortune.

       She slipped the bathrobe off and stepped into the dress. It fit her like a glove and she couldn’t help but appreciate how good she looked in the mirror on the bathroom door, how well the dress fit her curves.

       I don’t suppose my boots are going to look good with this, she thought. But then she noticed that bulge at the bottom of the garment bag. A pair of simple black leather heels. She stepped into them and instantly felt like a million dollars.

       And that made her very uncomfortable. She didn’t even know who’d sent this outfit. She looked down at her khakis on the bed and was sorely tempted to put her own clothes on instead.

       Just as she reached to unzip the dress, her phone rang. “Hello?”

       “Annja? It’s Frank.”

       Frank had a room on another floor. Annja wondered what he’d be wearing tonight. He didn’t exactly seem like the designer-suit type.

       “Are you ready to go?”

       “Yeah. Some dude showed up at my door with a penguin suit—a freaking tuxedo. Can you believe it?”

       “Actually, yes,” she said. “How does it fit?”

       “Uh, it fits me perfectly. I have no idea who sent it, though. And I have even less of an idea how he knew my suit size.”

       She studied herself in the mirror and then decided the dress would just have to do. After all, it would only be on her a couple of hours. “Let’s meet downstairs.”

       Annja caught the elevator, and when the doors opened to the lobby, the first person she saw was Pradesh standing near the concierge station. He wore what Annja recognized as a sleek Pathani suit.

       Pradesh’s eyes lit up when he saw Annja. “Forgive me for being blunt. You look incredibly beautiful.”

       “Blunt is not necessarily a bad thing,” Annja said with a smile even though he had made her uncomfortable. “Thank you for the compliment.”

       Pradesh gave her a short bow and then Annja heard the elevator ding behind her. Frank walked out. The tuxedo indeed looked good on him, but he didn’t have nearly the confidence to pull the look off. She could tell he felt uneasy.

       “Very handsome,” she said as he approached.

       “Very awkward,” he said quietly. “I feel like everyone is staring at me. And I don’t like it.” He pointed at her dress. “You look amazing.”

       “Thank you.” Annja touched him on the arm. “You’ll be fine. Just try to relax.” She turned to Pradesh. “So, now what?”

       “I’ll drive you to the party. It’s being held downtown at the offices of Dunraj Incorporated.”

       “Did you say Dunraj?”

       Pradesh nodded. “Yes, he’s one of the most influential residents of Hyderabad. He’s got an estimated wealth at around one billion dollars U.S.”

       Frank whistled. “Wow.”

       “Yes, his money generally elicits that reaction from people. It certainly seems to from the group Dunraj surrounds himself with. But there you go.”

       “Money’s not everything,” Annja said. “He didn’t need to buy me this dress. I have clothes that would have been fine. Well, almost fine.”