It wasn't the strangest request her former partner had made of her, but it was up there. It was certainly quite the question to spring on a woman eyes deep in paperwork in an overheated office. Parminder blinked and asked him to repeat his request, slightly stunned.

"Parminder, you have to go with me to the party tonight, please–"
"You have got to be kidding me."
"Look, partner, I need your help. I can’t show up alone."
"Eric. No one in the Department cares. Just go with Paul."

Eric gave her the sort of smile he might direct at a particularly grumpy toddler. He spoke in a patient voice, as if he was explaining that, no, you can’t bite people who don’t give you their toys,

"It’s not the department I’m worried about. It’s my parents. They’re dreadfully old hat. I just need you to hold my arm and play adoring for all of five minutes. My parents will eat it up and they'll continue living in blissful denial." He leaned on her desk, flashing that dazzling smile down at her. Parminder's dark brow arched itself, clearly unimpressed.

"Next you'll be asking me to come home with you and pretend to be your girlfriend proper. Then I'll be your make-believe fiancé and then we'll get imaginary married. It's a slippery slope, Eric." She scoffed, looking back down to the reports she was scouring, but Eric pushed her papers away, drawing her attention away from the paperwork and back to the matter at hand.

"We'll fake break up at the end of the night, promise," and there was a weary hopefulness on her ex-partners face that she couldn’t bear to dash. Parminder sighed, looking over at the senior Auror and his designer work robes. His blue eyes shined at her, urging her to say yes. It wasn’t that big of a request, she conceded. They'd spent hours sifting through paperwork and out on the field, staking out suspicious witches and wizards. They'd broken into more fancy mansions than she could count, had dueled some of the most dangerous sorcerors in the country and stumbled their way back to the Ministry from the bar on dozens of nights. Eric was her best friend, like an older brother. Although the thought of helping him lie to his parents turned her stomach, she couldn't bear disappointing him.

Then she groaned.

"Eric."

"Yes? You'll come with me? Oh Parminder–"

"Eric. I don't own dress robes."

The impromptu shopping trip was the most fun Parminder had had in the past year. Eric led her away from her desk and sweet-talked their way off duty. Linking arms, he whisked off on the smoothest side-along apparition she had ever known. Eric was a man of such perfect, casual grace, in every aspect of his life. It belayed his cruel talent with a wand. Parminder had never met anyone who could hex a man so brutally as her former partner, and certainly non-verbally. But that was part of what made Eric such a gifted duelist. Plenty of criminals had underestimated the pair of them, the slight Indian woman and the pretty boy. They’d all ended up in Azkaban.

Eric was excellent company, his quick wit assuaging any lingering guilt of leaving work early. He entertained her with office gossip as she leafed through dresses, his sarcasm teasing inelegant snorts of laughter from her lips. Hours slipped away from them, sipping on frou-frou coffee drinks and enjoying the Midsummers sun. Against all odds, they found a sunset coloured saree, complete with golden filigree. It spoke to Parminder on a spiritual level, and she tried not to feel guilty about dropping nearly three months’ worth of rent on a dress. It was spectacular, the crimsons and pinks and vermillions and golds worthy of belonging to the sunset of an airborne toxic event.

He’d lounged on her sofa while she straightened her hair and painted her face, amused by her muggle things and still photographs. At some point, he acquired a bottle of champagne, and they toasted the night ahead with a grim determination.

They arrived at the fundraiser at eight, arm in arm. Parminder turned and faced her partner, adjusting the collar of his designer robes and dusting off his shoulders. It was an old habit, a once over before going out to rid the world of dark wizards. He smiled at her, tweaking her nose. The ritual complete, she breathed in and took his arm once again.

"Fabulous as always, Eric," she teased. He grinned as she gently raised her saree, the golden links that connected an anklet to her painted big toe glittering in the light. Parminder rather appreciated the lack of painful footwear. Hopefully the ballroom was warm. Her parents would have been most upset at the magically applied Mehndi, but Parminder had only had a few hours, not a night, for the henna paste to dry.

"You clean up well, Parmy. One could also mistake you for a lady." He laughed as she punched his arm forcefully, but she grinned, looking at the great golden doors that lead to the Montague hotels that were to hold the event. She hated that they were holding an event for the Gigliotti– in addition to being blood elitists, they had their hands in all sorts of quasi-legal businesses, laundering gold and smuggling drugs and non-tradeable materials alike into England. And, if her suspicions were to be correct, they were connected to a certain increase in professional hits. It seemed amusing that the Auror in charge of this investigation was being touted as arm candy by another.

Perhaps this was a blessing. Eric led her into the gala, past sweeping statues of gold that cost more than her yearly salary. The hall held more chandeliers than she could count, with red crushed velvet and gold upon almost every surface. Crystal tables were laid out, sparkling in the light. Parminder tried not to gape. She had known the Gigliotti were wealthy, but this was something else.

"Where are your parents?" She leaned in to Eric, aware that he too was scanning the room, already preparing for spell-fire. She touched the wand concealed in her saree, comforted by the cherry wood along her forearm. They maneuvered through the crowd, Eric constantly being stopped by friends. Many raised their eyebrows at her, but Parminder simply smiled away.

"With the Minister, two o clock. My father has the vicar-cloak and my mother that dreadful fascinator," he whispered back in the guise of a sweet nothing. Parminder suppressed a grin, flicking her eyes to the place he described. There, her eyes found Minister Shacklebolt in conversation with a man in a severe black cloak. The fwooper feathers forming the woman’s fascinator were rather guache. Parminder was not displeased when Eric steered her in the opposite direction, towards the tables.

Along the way, it seemed, a floating candle in the shape of a seven had joined them. It bobbed ahead of them delicately, and it seemed to be guiding them somewhere. All around them, numbered candles were joining people and urging them to follow.

Their candle wove through the air lightly, before coming to rest on a circular table that seated six. Two other people had already seated themselves– one was a very old witch with midnight blue dress robes and the other a mature man in bottle green robes. Parminder quirked a brow as Eric helped her into her seat, suppressing a roll of the eyes with supreme difficulty. Introductions were made. The witch (Morgania) had been famously beautiful in her youth and now wrote award winning children's books. The wizard (Bernard) was an Obliviator and, like Morgania, a close friend of Emanuel Gigliotti, the patriarch of the family. Parminder was bursting with questions, but she dutifully bit her tongue, waiting for the rest of their table to join them and this uncomfortable dinner hosted by a thoroughly awful family to begin.

A single light hung over the ceiling of a rundown pub in the streets of London, the owner sat at his table counting his ill-gotten goods with a chuckle and a large cigar. Puff Puff Puff clouds of smoke rose from the plump man’s full cracked lips as his green eyes twinkled at the money in his hands, he was full of indescribable joy until the front door opened and shut. “We’re closed.” The man bellowed in dislike of the arrival.

“Oh I know.” A deep voice said in response as the door slammed shut with a vast amount of authority that pulled the plump man from his money to the person in the door way. The six foot two dashing young man made his way inside, his hair was fluffy and dark but nicely taken care of. His muscular built body was well hidden behind a set of muggle clothing of a black shirt with a leather jacket and dark blue jeans. The bright blue eyes of the dark haired man dug into the plump owner as he strolled his way casually across the pub before taking a seat across from the owner and his money. The young man looked around the pub for a minute before looking back at the owner and raising his eyebrows. “This place blows…”

“Excuse me!” The plump man snapped at the young man. “Just who do you think you are barging in here when the sign obviously says we’re closed, and then insult my place of business!”

The young man slammed his fist suddenly on the table, the money bouncing and clattering about from their perfectly stacked way across the table. “Excuse me?!” The young man snapped back with much more authority that seemed to overshadow the plump man. “I believe I was talking!” A solid glare of disapproval left the young man as he looked deep into the owner’s eyes. “As I was saying…” His tone started to lighten up from his fist slam and harsh speak earlier, “This place blows and you owe some very important people a lot of money…”

“You’re from…”

Again the young man slammed his fist onto the table top; the only following sound was some of the money hitting the wooden floor. “I’m talking.” The young man demanded in a forceful tone that shook the room. “You owe money to some very important people and they have sent me to collect it.” The plump man swallowed hard, his eyes filled with fear and that was enjoy to cause the blue eyed man’s full lips to curl into a smirk. “I am from them, and you picked the wrong group to mess with. As I see it you have one of two choices, you can pay me all you owe and the interest you have built by making me come all the way out here for this piss-poor reasoning or…” He pulled out his wand and slowly spun it in his fingers. “you can die. Those are your only options.”

The plump man sat in silence staring at the young man who was playing with his wand in such a casual manner. It was eerie in a way; the man being so young and yet so casual about taking another man’s life. Just how long had he been doing this? How many lives has this particular guy taken and what the fuck was he doing tracking down protection money? “Hhhheeerreeee…..” The plump pub owner said in a shaky manner pushing the money that he had been counting from the safe across the table to the brunette. “That’s all the money I have from my back safe. Please just… just take it; and please… please tell Mister Gigliotti I’ll never be late for another payment again.”

“That’s right.” The young man said sliding the goods cross the table and waiting the rest of the money to be picked up off the floor by the man who was drastically pleading to be left on good terms with his employer. “You won’t be because next time, you won’t get a choice. And dying by my hand isn’t the best way to go.” His voice was sickeningly playful, a threat and a promise with a mix of his humor. “Now before I leave.” He said collecting the bag and standing up, “What do we say when we’ve done something wrong?” His lecture to the man who was clearly older than him was that of someone doing to a child.

“I… I…. I’m ssssorry…” The man said nearly groveling at the feet of the young man who just smirked down at him before turning on his heel and leaving the pub. A single encounter with Trenton Arklander can leave quite a few people breathless; in this case the man was left holding his heart and staring at the shutting door, just thankful to be alive.

---

“Don’t ever make me do that again.” Trenton said standing at the full service bar in black dress robes talking to an older man in maroon colored dress robes. Both men were sipping on glasses of scotch enjoying a conversation about the situation that had transgressed earlier in the evening.

“I had no choice,” The older man, Emanuel Gigliotti said with a shrug of innocence to him, “I’ve sent multiple people to collect the funds from him and he still didn’t figure out that he was supposed to pay on time. So I thought, ‘Send Trenton and it will never happen again’; and I’m sure it won’t.”

“I doubt he’ll want to pay the next amount of interest with any body parts so I’m sure it won’t be an issue again.” Trenton said with a sly grin before the two knocked their glasses together and finished the last of their scotch.

“I must get to my seat before the dinner begins and I have to give my speech. The food’s great tonight so enjoy yourself tonight, you work hard for me it’s the least I can do.” The old man said gratefully as he patted Trenton on the shoulder and walked off.

Trenton couldn’t help but grin, he didn’t work hard; in fact that man enjoyed his job rather well and found fun in it. Plus it kept him in good shape and the Ministry never caught on that a young man like him would be so tremendously skilled and deviant in his ways. But no one’s taken the time to get to know him… their loss; he thought he was funny and fun to be around. Shrugging more to himself than to anyone else, he picked up his refill of the scotch and walked around the room, talking to a few people before everyone was instructed to find their places for the meal to begin.

After searching for a little while, Trenton finally found his place with two familiar faces and two unfamiliar faces. “Hello Morgania, as beautiful as ever.” Trenton said with charm in his voice and a twinkle in his eye, only to match the aged woman’s flirty eyes and playful wave. “And Mister Bernard, looking as dashing as ever.”

“You clean up well Trenton.” The older man said with a chuckle as the tall young man sat down next to a beautiful young Indian woman who was with some way too clean cut guy. Oh yeah, he could spot that a mile away. “Hello, I’m Trenton.” He introduced himself to the man beside her before turning his complete attention and those bright blue eyes to her. “Trenton Arklander,” The ministry had a basic file on him. Graduated Durmstrang Institute with the highest marks in his year; qualified for Auror training but turned down the job due to ‘seeking other life opportunities’. Pureblood from a long line of pureblood families born with the silver spoon of society that just so happens to be resting in the golden bowl. Current Job: “A little of this, a little of that. I help where I can.” a quote for the notation in his file at the Ministry of Magic. “And you are…” He inquired as he took her hand from the shaking position and gently kissed the top of it, smart enough to not take his eyes off of her but charming enough to still hold that playful twinkle in his eyes. Okay, maybe tonight won’t be a total loss.

Parminder Advani had never seen such opulence. Fairies glittered around candles, drunkenly giggling and tossing dust into the air. An enchanted, unmanned orchestra filled the hall with music. The table was set with gold and luxurious burgundy velvet. A pang of nostalgia for the Gryffindor common room struck her then, lighting her features with a smile.

Eric’s arm looped about her chair comfortably. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, a wicked grin toying about his lips.
“Looks like our favorite socialite hooked up with Hawkes. This’ll be entertaining.”

She followed his gaze to a fabulously beautiful redhead on the arm of heavily bearded man, suppressing a snort with some difficulty. Hawkes was a good Auror, but Merlin he had poor judgment. Dating his coworkers’ daughter? That was going to end in hexes before long.

“Nudd’s going to toss him through a window when he finds out,” she grinned conspiratorially to Eric, almost looking forward to the drama. Undoubtedly, she would have been less eager had she worked closely with Hawkes or Nudd. As it was, she had little to worry about.

A man had joined their table. She withdrew her attention from the ticking time bomb that was Hawkes to study their new dining companion. Silver lights danced in the corners of her vision, swirling about his form. Now that was interesting. Parminder had been seeing glimpses of magic her whole life, but rarely did the flickers of light cling to wizards so brazenly. She straightened in her seat, aware of Eric’s tensing beside her.

He was familiar with Morgania and Bernard, both of whom seemed very pleased to see him. He introduced himself to Eric, who smiled charmingly enough. She felt his thumb tap her shoulder twice. He’d noticed her tensing, and his reassurance was welcome. Whoever this wizard—this Trenton—was, he must have been a remarkable spellcaster. But with Eric at her side, she permitted herself to relax.

He took her hand, and in a perfect display of old world mannerisms, kissed it. Her eyebrows elevated in amusement, her lips quirking into a grin. She didn’t think she’d ever had such a greeting, and it was oddly charming. She couldn’t help but duck her gaze momentarily, trying not to be too embarrassed. She’d never been a particularly flirtatious woman, always too busy to bother with men. Eric insisted she was oblivious to numerous potential suitors, but she found that a bit hard to believe. She was a tracker, well versed in reading people and magic—even if he was right and she was oblivious, it wasn’t like she was a prime catch. An Auror and a muggleborn; how many wizards would bother with that?

“Parminder Advani. It’s a pleasure,” she introduced when she trusted herself to meet his gaze without laughing.

“Eric Pucey,” her partner commented, his smile pleasant but his eyes calculating. “Durmstrang, right? You look a little familiar.”

Parminder quirked a brow. That was interesting. Few Englishmen studied at Durmstrang, and those that did tended to fall into a particular… category, as it was. No wonder Eric was on edge. Still, her friendship with Pucey had proven that she could hardly paint all Durmstrang alumni as blood elitist psychopaths, and she chose to reserve judgment for the time being.

It had been a long time since Trenton had attending a fancy dinner party. Mainly because he preferred other types of parties; household parties, bar parties, picnics, anything other than something that required him to be in a suit and tie. Then again he does look good in the crisp cut robes. But Trenton would rather be in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He does have to make an impression on the Wizarding World every once and a while, if his background in spell casting and ministry’s former desperate attempt to get him to join wasn’t enough proof of his talents.

The embarrassment across her face caught his attention. Trenton loved to play the part of the observer and as she turned her gaze away, the corner of his full lips curled up into a smirk. He had always been an old fashion style guy, which had magic of its own as he watched her break her eye contact with him. A lot of women weren’t used to the idea that a man could have old fashion ways that should have never gone out of style. But it was a simple tactic to help bring women at easy yet feel as light as air. Unlike a lot of other men, Trenton was a one woman type of guy until he lost interest in her. Assuming she could hold his interest, he’d gladly look past other woman to make sure that he stays on that girl’s good side. And right now, this woman had his attention; such a striking caramel colored woman. Yes, very striking indeed.

He slowly lowered her hand as she introduced herself, his voice dropped softly, almost into a whisper; as if it was a secret between the two of them, “The pleasure’s all mine.” A twinkle moved through his blue eyes as he pulled out his seat and sat down. Yes, right next to her. Fate truly is funny like that.

Attention moving from the gorgeous young woman to the man next to her, his full lips curled into a small closed mouth smile. “Yeah…” His voice didn’t sound all that pleased about the fact that the information was somewhat common knowledge, “But it wasn’t anything that exciting. I can assure you that.” Trenton tilted his head, his blue eyes examining Eric for a moment before his blue eyes expanded and he leaned forward, his arms resting gently on the top table. “I know you,” His lips curled into a grin, showing his straight white teeth as they spread across his face. “You went to Durmstrang as well, I knew your name was familiar.” With that he turned his attention to the rest at the table; the other two seemed confused so Trenton was more than happy to educate them. “This guy was one of the best Seekers to ever play at Durmstrang. If he was ever playing, the stadium was always full and even the people who had ‘too much homework’ would put it off just to watch him play.” He pulled back from the table, resting an arm along the back of the chair and his other placed gently on the table top. “Man, little old me at a table with a famous writer, a well-known Obiliviator, a childhood Quidditch ideal of mine and the most beautiful woman in the room; damn how did I get so lucky?” A charming smile moved across his face and got practically wide when his gaze landed on Parminder. Boy he was really lucky.

Parminder was rather intrigued by the turn of events. It wasn’t every day she got to learn about her former partner. Although her best mate, he’d always been rather private about his time at Durmstrang. He’d admitted once that he found his attendance rather embarrassing; when he had studied there, the school had made no secret of their training in the dark arts.

“You played Quidditch?” She queried, turning her gaze on Eric. With a laugh, she punched him lightly in the ribs. “Of course you did! Merlin, is there anything you’re not good at?”

“Nah, I’m brilliant all around. Sorry to disappoint you, mate,” Eric was clearly enjoying the ego boost, leaning back more comfortably in his chair. Parminder rolled her eyes fondly. Of course, the git couldn’t cook to save his life, but somehow that didn’t quite even the scales.

“Prat,” she informed him good-naturedly, returning her gaze to Trenton. He spoke of their table highly, and she found her cheeks colouring when he referred to her, rather curiously, as beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the room? Is he blind? She arched her brow at him, although the way he grinned at her—Merlin, she could almost believe him. There was something about the way he looked at her that made it seem like she was the only woman in the room. It was all-together an unfamiliar experience.

“Mind you,” Eric spoke smoothly, before she could ask if Trenton said that to all the women he met, “She’s annoyingly humble—she worked on the Umbra case a few months back, tracked the bastards right to their hidey holes. Wouldn’t have cleared it up without her, should be up for an Order of Merlin in my book.”

“I—no, look, I did my job, but it wasn’t just me. There were a lot of people working on stopping Umbra.” Parminder shot Eric a look, her brow raised. He smirked at her.

“Yeah, and you found them. See? Annoyingly humble.”

The look on her face read everything. He didn’t tell her about his time at Durmstrang, at least, not enough for her to know of his time playing question. Maybe there were other things he didn’t tell her. The idea made Trenton’s eyebrow quirk in the direction as Parminder said that there wasn’t anything he could do. The banter between the two was fun and it made him smile, his bright white teeth spreading across his face as his blue eyes bounced back and forth from one person to another.

“Annoyingly humble huh?” Trenton repeated as Eric finished sharing the story about her finding the Umbra, who he happened to know on a somewhat personal basis and she was the one who tracked them down. That was impressive. By a personal level, he had worked with them once or twice; a good portion of them were annoying stuck up snobs who insisted on doing things their way; and that’s most likely why they were caught. Listen to the quieter people, they always know more and have better ideas than the loud people.

“Your job is something honorable and you should not only take pride in it but you should also take compliments.” He said in a joking fashion, unable to shake the smile off of his face as his eyes twinkled at her. “Compliments are even harder to come by these days, especially honest ones like you’re receiving from everyone here at the table.” Isn’t it funny to hear someone in his seat to call someone in her job honorable? Well it’s simple. Without order there can be no chaos and there’s rules that must be followed. Trenton knew better than to attack an Auror and members of the Ministry, they were not what his job was. His job was control and, believe it or not, it doesn’t always come with killing people.

“Trenton, how do you know Mister Gigliotti?” Morgania asked as she took up her wine glass and sipped, her eyes searching the young man’s face but the very obvious thought pattern had nothing to do with what she was asking. Her mind was digging deeper into the possibilities of what could have happened between the two of them if she was younger.

The young man’s eyes dropped slightly, sadness following into them as he remembered the first time he had met the old man. “I had just graduated Durmstrang…” He began. “I came home from school to find my parents dead in their bed. My home was destroyed from head to toe, things were stolen, everything was broken and I had no choice but to run in fear because I thought someone would come back to finish the job of my family.” A small shrug lifted his shoulders but his gaze stayed on the table as he shared his true story. He didn’t have an issue talking about it but it still… as you can imagine, was a tender subject. “The first two years of my life I spent living on the streets, partaking in street fighting and magical dueling to make money. I went into a bar that Mister Gigliotti owned and ended up being involved in a bar fight. I beat up one of his best fighters and he asked me if I was looking for a job. Soon after he employed me as a bouncer for the bar and I’ve been doing odds and ends for him ever since. He helped get me off the streets and gave me money so I could live.” His eyes turned upwards to see the sorrow and apology in the faces of the table and he gave a shrug. “I’ve learned to live life and just enjoy it. There’s no point in lingering and no point in dwelling on the past when you can’t change it. You just need to make a better future right?”

“Why aren’t you an Auror?” Mister Bernard asked bluntly; the type of story that Trenton shared it typically the story drives someone to become an Auror.

“I appreciate all Aurors do, but as a loyal citizen I want to work to help make the city a better place from the inside outwards while the Aurors work from the outside in. Somewhere we’ll meet in the middle and chaos will subside. At least, that’s my hope.”

“That’s very noble of you son. No one really considers working from the inside to clean things up because the little things do affect the big picture as well.”

“Plus.” Trenton added with a grin. “We have an example of two amazing Aurors keeping the big picture safe and under control at the table here with us.” With that he turned his blue gaze to the two with a small nod of his head. “Thank you two for all your hard work and keeping all of us safe. We truly appreciate it.” At his comment the other two at the table nodded towards the Aurors, acknowledging them for their work.

Parminder’s cheeks coloured at all the attention, an embarrassed smile tugging at her lips. It was high praise, the idea of an Order of Merlin. Even in the ten years of reformation after the war, things weren’t easy for muggleborns. Lingering prejudices made advancement in the ministry extremely difficult, even with progressives like Potter and Granger and Minister Shacklebolt at the helm. And to have Eric Pucey, the scion of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood families, speak so highly of her was an honor. Eric himself was unconcerned with blood status, but she knew his family and how they looked down on her kind. And to have a stranger, especially one as handsome and charming as Trenton, compliment her work so sincerely… it was all rather new to her. It was encouraging. Maybe, after these ten long years, things were finally getting better. The thought warmed her, a cautious hope bubbling in her chest.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful--I-- thank you,” she managed with only the hint of a stammer. Sitting a little straighter, Parminder tried for graceful instead of awkward. She couldn’t help the smile crossing her face. “You do me a kindness.”

The conversation shifted to Trenton and his association with Mister Gigliotti. Parminder studied him as he spoke, her face a mask of pleasant curiosity. She kept her disappointment at bay with the ease of practice. The Gigliotti were renowned for their rather archaic views on blood. She was being silly, she reminded herself sharply. Trenton was certainly charming, but she knew better than to think of anything further. Parminder stifled her thoughts to better focus on his story.

She hadn’t expected such a history; her brow creased into a frown, a rush of sympathy running through her. Parminder didn’t detect a lie in his features. And when he spoke of life on the streets, she understood more than she liked. She had only spent a year on the run during the war, but it had marked her to the core.

From what Parminder knew, the Gigliotti were not typically charitable. Not unless it could benefit them. And with the flickers of silver dancing in her vision whenever she looked at Trenton, she knew there was something about the blue eyed wizard that benefited the family. Whether it was something legitimate or something seedier, she didn’t know, but she was deeply curious. She’d never been good at turning her work brain off, much to Eric’s displeasure.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she intoned quietly, gently resting a mehndi covered hand to his arm privately startling herself at her action. Parminder reclaimed her hand, taking care to keep her thoughts from going maudlin. Mister Bernard asked the question on her mind. She had never entertained anything but serving as an Auror after the war. Her ambition had consumed her after the war had ended and she had returned to Hogwarts.

His answer was interesting. As much as the bureaucracy of the Ministry tired her, working to improve the law was the only method she had ever considered. He spoke of working to create change within social and civilian spheres… or, perhaps, outside of the law. She did not want to entertain the possibility; he was pleasant company, charming, ridiculously handsome and polite. She opted to reserve judgment for the time being.

“Every little bit counts,” Eric remarked calmly, an indescribable look in his eyes. “The law will move forward as society does. Things will get better, slowly but surely.” Eric squeezed her shoulder affectionately there, and she flicked her chocolate eyes towards him. Her gaze softened, gratitude flooding her. Truly, Eric was the best mate a girl could ask for. Even small shows of solidarity were deeply appreciated.
“It’s our pleasure,” Eric answered the praise, and Parminder nodded in agreement.
“Truly, I’m blessed to have been given the opportunity to serve,” she admitted, “It means everything to me.”

A ringing echoed throughout the dining hall, calling attention to the dais at the front of the ball room. Parminder turned to see Emmanuel Gigliotti taking the stage, neatly dressed and smiling wide as he began his welcoming speech to their fundraiser.