Priya yawned into her hand, fatigue blistering behind her eyes, but was saved by the waitress returning to her table with a steaming cup of espresso. After securing a spot on Daniel Chu's Oculus team, she'd spent the better part of last night researching their corporate history, including details behind their recent six billion dollar tech acquisition, to prep for tonight.

And then of course, Marai Nagao had run her almost ragged throughout the day, sending her to court with paperwork for one of the senior partners to sign off on, and then heaved a four thousand page brief in her lap she had to proof by tomorrow.

Tasks for either a courier, or a first year grunt, but of the seven lawyers Daniel had chosen to work this client, she was the only one here with him and the Oculus executive board for dinner.

That had to count for something. And if she proved to be a success with this, then perhaps Marai would finally see her at a mentee of value and start taking her seriously.

Stirring in an unhealthy amount of sugar, Priya sipped gratefully as her entrée plate was cleared away.

"I thought your generation was born bleeding coffee?" John Dimitrov slithered at her side, the fringe of his white mustache wisping over his thin upper lip.

Anyone else who would dare get this close to her personal space, Priya would've shoved him back with an elbow to the spleen. But as this was the Chairman and Chief Operating Officer of Oculus at an exclusive table in the center of an elite Manhattan restaurant, all she could do was flash her best smile.

The dazzling sort that sent most men into a stupor.

"Yes," she forced through clenched teeth, "but every now and then I need to inject a fresh supply."

John laughed, a pitchy nasal sound that made her fingers curl but she was spared further inane banter as the waitress opened bottles of aged whiskey Daniel had ordered. Smart move. Both John Dimitrov and Oculus CEO, Barry Marrone, were both partial to the vintage.

Apparently Priya hadn't been the only one studying the profiles of twelve men and the lone woman of their team, Natasha Labelle, Senior Vice President of Communications, well into the morning hours.

"I'm glad I was able to convince you to join me for dinner." Daniel smiled winsomely and brushed his glass with John, the other male execs, and Priya's last. "Here's to a wonderful evening, and hopefully a profitable fourth quarter."

Ah, at last. The time for glad-handing was over and the cards were laid out on the table.

"Speaking of profits, I was impressed by the details surrounding your recent acquisition," Priya leapt in and the hum of conversation descended into silence. "Especially the work you put into the media spin," she said, directing her praise towards the furthest end of the table where Natasha sipped her champagne.

"Yes, absolutely," Daniel agreed. "It was a work of genius."

"I'm pleased to hear you say so," Natasha replied, casting her soft brown gaze towards Daniel. "Communication is a delicate field with so many landmines that could be set off by a single comma."

"Don't be coy," Bob Mitchell, two seats to Priya's left, barked in his smoker's rasp of a voice. "That's what this is all about, eh? Canoodling for a bite of our six billion dollar pie?"

"Well, since you mention it, it's a big pie, Bob.

"For which we have in-house counsel."

"That was sufficient when you were small scale, but this is big leagues you're pitching in." Daniel set down his glass as a collection of waitresses in black returned carrying trays laden with fine desserts. "You're gonna need someone with considerable skill and impressive client list someone to help protect your interests; a shark, deadly and dangerous enough to keep the other sharks at bay."

John swivelled his glass, amber liquid swirling against bevelled glass. "Perhaps you're right, but if you want us to sign on the dotted line with your firm, I'll need assurances."

"Such as?"

"Exclusivity, for one."

"That's a big ask."

"Six billion dollar client, I think we're within our rights."

Daniel's grin slanted with devious charm. "If you want John, I'd be happy to pitch my case over the golf course sometime this week, where I'll kick your over eighteen holes."

"A gentleman would let me win."

"A closer never lets anyone win but himself," Daniel winked.

Laughter rippled around Priya.

"I think the extensive work ethic that stands behind the name of Mercer, Nagao and Silver speaks for itself," Priya spoke up and the laughter died. "And given Mr. Chu's record, you couldn't be in more capable hands than his."

John slanted his gaze to Priya, a crooked grin on his face. "I'm all for capable hands."

Ew. "I think I need to go to the ladies room. Excuse me." Grateful to be away from the table, Priya held her smile, and her composure, until she reached the privacy of the women's washroom before she finally swore.

God, what was it with older, wealthy men and their leering gazes?

And what was worse was Daniel had barely acknowledged her presence for most of the evening, in fact, none of them had aside from the sleazy chairman who'd tried to put his hand on her thigh several times. And god, how she'd wanted to grip the bastard's hand and squeeze until he sang a falsetto in F sharp.

Priya scowled at her reflection. She'd come to dinner wearing a basic black two piece, her hair up and face clean of anything but mascara. But it didn't matter how subdued her wardrobe and light her makeup—all she got were hot glances and loaded double entendres.

Splashing a bit of water on her face, she dabbed her cheeks dry with a disposable hand towel and sucked in a reassuring breath. Whisking open the door, she drew up short when she saw Daniel Chu, impeccably dressed in tailored grey, halt in his pacing.

"There you are. Finally."

"Something wrong?" Priya asked, the door to the ladies room whispering shut behind her.

"We've paid the bill and a few of the guys are interested in swinging over to the rooftop lounge at the Ritz. Why don't you call some of your friends to join us?" His eyes slid over her, a little glazed but otherwise clear. "Fours a good number, I think. Know any Asians?"

Sliding her clutch between her arm and her ribs, Priya brushed a hand over her bun, fighting to hold on to civility and composure. "Daniel, I need to call it a night."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm running on fumes and I've got a brief to finish for tomorrow morning for Ms. Nagao." One she hadn't been able to complete because of tonight's dinner. And if she didn't get at least four hours to prepare her for a six am work day, the only thing she'd be briefing would be her own termination letter.

"Ah, don't worry," Daniel hooked a conspiratorial arm around her shoulder and hugged her tight against the side of his body. "I'll clear it with the big boss, okay?"

"I don't think you understand." Annoyed, Priya shrugged off his arm and restablished personal space. "She told me explicitly warned me not to let this affect my work performance. I can't blithely walk in mid-day because I was nursing a hangover from the night before."

The wide, unexpected pop of his small eyes said that finally sunk in, and Priya added a thrust of her chin for good measure though inside she was shaking. The man was a Senior Partner with the power to crush her hopes and dreams into dust, and she'd snapped at him as if he was a misbehaving toddler—which hey, if the shoe fits.

"We need to have a quick chat about...expectations." Daniel scrapped his manicured thumbnail over the bridge of his nose. "I think you're under some misguided belief as to your function at this dinner."

"Alright." Priya hooked her tongue over the edge of her teeth, sucked hard. "Enlighten me. Because I thought the point was to close Oculus as a client?"

"It is."

"And that I was here to assist in that endeavour."

His eyes popped again, but clamped shut with a guffawing laugh. "Oh, that's adorable."

Priya certainly didn't think so, but held her ground as he mopped away mock tears.

"I don't need anyone to help me close a client, Priya. I could do that in aisle six of Wal-Mart and dressed like Ace Ventura at the nut house. You're here because you're the party girl with a reputation for working hard and playing harder."

Galled, Priya rocked back a step. "Are you serious?"

"Come on, don't give me that look." Daniel's teeth flashed bright white in a smile as fake as his veneers. "You're here for...color. Not context. Why else did you think I'd agree to bring you to the table if it wasn't to show you off?"

Anger, disgust and shame cyclone through her body, a wild tempest that set the world to spin and Priya's thoughts along with it. Seriously? Gathering what remained of her composure was a battle as Daniel smoothed a hand over his mouth, fingering his goatee while he leaned in to add in a soft, greasy voice, "I know you hooked up with Hadrian Merek during the mentor competition."

There were no words. No words and certainly level of swearing that could encompass or convey Priya's shock as cold flashed in her cheeks, blood drained from her head and shot down to her toes. Holy fuzzknuckles.

"Oh don't worry," Daniel waved the matter aside, "Hadrian didn't breathe a word, but that's why I'm so good at what I do, because I know all. I see all. And I'd figured you were the type of girl who appreciated bending rules. So, if you really want to be of use—remove your blazer, undo a few buttons on your blouse and let your hair down."

Pain throbbed in Priya's temples, timed to the fast and unsteady rhythm of her heart as he smiled again and she almost, almost punched him. "This is bullshit."

"This is business. So I suggest you get out there, keep your tits up and your mouth shut unless you intend to put it to better use."

"And that's sexual harassment," she snarled as Daniel moved to walk away. He rounded with a spread of his hands and a cheery gleam in his eyes, dark as his soul.

"Sue me."

#

Slumped against the wall, Priya shrugged out of her coat and let it fall into a puddle on the floor.

Light throbbed along the edges of the horizon, visible through the slats and spires of the New York cityscape. She had an hour to crash, if that, leaving twenty minutes to shower, change, and pound back a gallon of coffee laced with pain killers, before rushing into work.

If she was lucky maybe she could get the brief done before noon and then squeeze out for an 'appointment', also known as a powernap in the firm's archives. Banker boxes was a far cry from the comfort of a queen size bed, but in a pinch, beggars couldn't exactly be choosers.

Her feet throbbed, her back was ached and her face was sore from all that useless smiling. After a moment of mental fortifying in the bathroom, she'd returned to play the role of glorified eye candy, a Barbie doll to sit and look pretty, to be seen and not heard, while Daniel plied them with shots and the Chairman attempted to cop a feel.

It was humiliating. Degrading. She'd dealt with sexism and unwanted male attention while working with the District Attorney last summer, but this—this was crushing. She hated that she wanted to cry and fought against the crippling weakness.

Get your shit together, Priya, you're stronger than this. But that was the rub. She was tired of being strong. Tired of always holding herself together, tired of wading into each meeting or social setting with a proverbial sword strapped onto her back, ready to fight and defend herself.

To constantly prove her worth, value and integrity.

That she was more than a Barbie in a skirt, an object to chase and fondle, and it stung brutally to know that was the only reason Daniel chose her to be on this team rather than as a member of value, an asset, but why was that such a surprise when her own mentor—a proud, respected woman—treated her no better?

So quit. The team? Sure, but then not only would it reflect badly on Ms. Nagao, who'd given her blessing, but word would spread throughout the firm that she was a flake and none of the other senior partners would ever touch her.

She'd might as well quit her job and abandon her mentorship with MNS all together, but then what? What firm would take her on when she'd turned down a chance to be a mentee to arguably the best litigator in all of New York? And what other firm was going to give her resume the kind of boost in accolades that MNS could offer?

Priya was a winner. Top of the pack. She didn't go for second place. Ever. She'd gone out of her way to push to be on Daniel's team—and, in effect, tied her own noose and slipped it around her neck.

Toeing off her shoes, Priya rooted around her purse for her humming phone that pulsed in long, steady beats. Not a message. A call. And though common sense screamed at her to ignore it, to scamper into bed for a quick, desperate hour of sleep, she swiped her thumb across the screen.

"Mom, hey." She smiled, brightly and full of affection despite the fact her eyes wanted to melt off her face as she stumbled from the front door and into the living room of her parents' brownstone. Forget the bed, the couch was closer. "How's life in Zurich treating you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you so early, Priyanka, but—something has come up and I wanted to touch base with you immediately."

Priyanka. There were two reasons her mother Lakshmi Seth would call her daughter by her full name. Either she was angry, or there was trouble.

"Are you okay? Dad?" Her stomach twisted at the thought of her step dad, Hernan, and the recent health scare they had last winter with a stroke that had put him in hospital. His doctors had released him with strict warning to scale back on work and make serious adjustments in his life.

A scare that had put his priorities into perspective, and he'd resigned from his various board of director positions to enjoy an easy retirement in Zurich with Priya's mother while she worked to complete her study on something that Priya couldn't understand, let along pronounce.

"I'm fine. Hernan is fine. Sweetheart, I hate to spring this on you so suddenly, but I need you to sit down for a moment."

She did. But not on the couch, like she'd planned, and instead dragged out a lucite chair hugging the reclaimed wood dining room table. "Mom. What's going on?"

"I don't know how to put this delicately, so I'll get straight to it." Lakshmi sighed. "The market took a hit after the elections and Hernan's stocks bottomed out. Long story short, we're haemorrhaging money and need to liquidate assets. That includes our family brownstone in Chelsea."

The walls fell away and Priya wondered whatever misdeeds she'd done in another life, surely she'd balanced the scaled after last night, but now this? This?

"Are you there?"

"Yeah, sorry. I think I spaced out a bit."

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. If there was any other way."

"No, mom, it's alright. I get it, I do." Thanks to the Cheeto-Puff in office, the economy was taking a suicide dive into recession. More than a few of her friends had to bail out of investments and shore up savings, but never in her most horrifying nightmares, did she expect it would cost her this place.

Home. This had always been home. After the years of boarding schools and bouncing across Europe, this was the only place that had stuck. Made her feel safe and grounded. To lose it was going to hurt, deeply, but Priya knew her mother would've exhausted every available option before coming to this, which meant—the end was inevitable.

"How long do we have?"

"Weeks, if that," Lakshmi said, her voice full of sincere regret. "I've reached out to Cicely to handle the sale and she assures me that even in the tumultuous market, it'll sell quickly—and for fair value. The best we can hope for at this time."

"Alright."

"Sweetheart, I want you to know that Hernan and I are willing to do whatever we can to see you settled."

"Mom, I'll be fine," Priya pushed a smile into her voice. "My salary is competitive and I've got a lot of connections within the city. Don't worry about me."

"But I do. You're my schatzi." And Priya got teary at the endearment my treasure, a name her mother used often when she was little.

"I have to go, mom, I have an early start at the office and need to get ready."

"Yes, of course. Absolutely. Have a wonderful day, though I know this has definitely put a damper on it, and please call me later? We'll talk more. Okay?"

"Sure. Bye, mom. Love you."

The call ended and silence wrapped around her like a fog.

Well, this certainly complicated matters. Priya let the phone slip from her fingers to clatter on the table top. She was about to be homeless, which meant she couldn't afford to make waves at work and add jobless to the list. Not when she'd have to hunt down an apartment she could somehow afford on her meagre salary, and with only six short weeks...

Groaning, she stumbled to the couch and pitched face first into the l-wing of the sectional.

Scheisse...

***AN***

CALLING ALL SISTERS!!

Anyone living in the San Diego area? I will be swinging down for ComiCon with Lindsey Summers (DoNotMicrowave), RebeccaSky BrittanieCharmintine and others around July 20 - if anyone lives in the area, let me know and we can hang out!! Would love to meet some of you guys.

*SQUISHY HUGSSSS*