First Star I See Tonight (Chicago Stars #8) - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,35

wad of U.S. currency—a meaty stack of hundred-dollar bills that would be mere pocket change to a family worth more than a trillion dollars.

When the transaction was complete, Faiza returned the leftover cash to her bag, meticulously folding the receipt. She clutched the bag to her chest as they left the boutique, her forehead puckered with worry lines that had no place on such a young face.

Piper got back on her phone and forty-five minutes later helped Faiza purchase a red pair from Barneys. But even that wasn’t good enough. “You do not understand.” Faiza twisted her fingers around the clasp of her bag. “I cannot fail Her Highness. She must have all the shoes.”

Piper blared her horn at an overly aggressive taxi driver. “Don’t you think five pairs is a little piggy?”

Faiza didn’t understand, which was just as well.

Piper’s meeting with Graham wasn’t for three hours, which should give her enough time to drive out to a suburban Nordstrom where she’d located the final two pairs, grab them, get Faiza back to the Peninsula, then make it to Spiral. Piper forced a smile. “Let’s go.”

As they sped west out of the city, Faiza grew less guarded and more like the nineteen-year-old she was. Piper told her a little about her job with Graham and learned Faiza was Pakistani, as well as a devout Muslim who’d gone to the Realm at fourteen to find work and to visit the country’s holy cities so she could pray for the parents and sister she’d lost. Instead, she’d ended up enduring brutally long hours and what Piper regarded as a kind of imprisonment, since her passport had been taken from her when she’d first been employed, and she hadn’t seen it since.

Faiza repeatedly checked her bag for the receipts. Some of the country’s royals had a reputation for abusing their servants, and Piper didn’t like to imagine what might happen if the receipts didn’t reconcile with the cash Faiza carried.

The Nordstrom that carried the shoes was located in Stars territory in the far western suburbs. The clock was ticking, and the clerk took forever to ring up the purchase. But as long as the traffic gods were kind, Piper could still make it back in time for her meeting.

They weren’t. An accident on the Reagan Tollway brought traffic to a standstill, and since Graham had refused to give her his cell number, she couldn’t even call him. She could only stew.

The traffic inched forward, then stopped again. Inched and stopped. Before long, Piper’s shoulders were so tense her muscles screamed. She took a few deep breaths. Nothing she did would make the traffic go faster. She concentrated on her passenger. “If you could do anything you wanted, Faiza, what would it be?”

Seconds ticked past before she replied. “Dreams are foolish for someone like me.”

Piper realized the question had been unintentionally cruel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Faiza released a long, slow breath of her own. “I would go to Canada and study to be a nurse. One who helps babies born too early, the way my sister was born. But those kinds of dreams are not meant to be.” She spoke matter-of-factly. This was no bid for pity.

“Why Canada?”

“My father’s sister lives there. She is my only family, but I have not seen her since I was a child.”

“Do you stay in contact? Talk to her on the phone?”

“I do not have a telephone. I have not been able to speak with her for almost two years.”

“Would you like to use mine?” Piper said impulsively.

She heard Faiza’s sharp intake of breath. “You would let me do that?”

“Sure.” Piper already had so many money troubles, what did a few more dollars on her cell bill matter? “Do you know her number?”

“Oh, yes. I have memorized it. But if anybody knew . . .”

“They’re not going to find out from me.” She tossed her cell in the backseat and told Faiza how to use it.

The aunt must have answered, because a joyous, rapid-fire conversation in what Piper assumed was Urdu followed. As the conversation went on, the traffic finally began to move, and by the time Faiza returned her phone, they were back on the Eisenhower.

“My khala has been so worried about me.” Faiza’s voice was choked with tears. “She dreams that I can come to live with her, but I have no money, no way to get there.”

Piper’s cell rang. She wasn’t supposed to take personal calls when she was driving, but she