Mariah's POV
It was supposed to be a peaceful afternoon.
I'd just finished reviewing renovation plans for one of the new restaurants opening in the east wing of my mall. Business was running smoothly, the tenants were happy, and I was in the rare mood to spoil myself. So I'd called Summar, bribed her with iced coffee and spicy fries, and convinced her to come shopping with me.
We were walking past one of the boutique displays—me in a sleek ivory jumpsuit, Summar still sulking in her all-black "I hate people" outfit—black hoodie half-zipped and sipping an iced Americano like she had beef with the cup. She never came to the mall unless I dragged her, but she liked watching rich people make bad outfit choices, so here we were. When fate, or maybe just bad luck, decided to play games.
Amira.
