Chapter 6: Rao’s

By Thursday morning, the winter air outside Amara’s penthouse felt cold enough to bite. She was half-asleep, scrolling through emails with a mug of hot coffee when her phone vibrated with a message that instantly snapped her awake.

Ethan: Good morning, Miss Solar Girl. How are you today? I was wondering if I could finish the conversation we didn’t get to have the other day.

Amara stared at the message.

This man again?

She typed back, fast.

Amara: Why can’t you just tell me over the phone?

His reply came almost immediately.

Ethan: It won’t feel professional. Especially since it’s business related.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Everything is business to men like him,” she mumbled.

Amara: Then we can do a call. Zoom. G****e Meet. Carrier pigeon. Whatever you want.

Ethan: This can’t be done over Zoom. The contract includes a restricted section. If I send it digitally, it’ll flag me for a violation. We need to meet in person so you can review the physical copy.

She exhaled, frustrated.

He was persistent — annoyingly persistent.

Amara: Fine. Where do you want me to meet you?

A second later, an address popped up: 455 E. 114th Street, New York, NY.

She tapped it.

Waited.

Then froze.

Her hand flew to her mouth.

RAO’S.

The Rao’s.

The legendary, impossible-to-enter, mafia-history, inheritance-table Rao’s.

“OH MY GOD!” she screamed so loudly the neighbor’s dog barked. “No way—NO WAY.”

She paced the room like she was losing her mind.

“Rao’s? RAO’S?! Even billionaires can’t get a seat there! You need generational reservations, old money approval… possibly a blood oath!”

She slapped a hand over her heart. “I’m actually going inside Rao’s. I’m trying that signature pasta—AHHHH!”

Without hesitation, she FaceTimed the girls on their group chat.

As soon as the call connected, she shouted,

“GUESS who is going to Rao’s today?!”

Three faces appeared, all confused.

Lila squinted. “Who? Because it’s not you. Girl, even Beyoncé can barely get a table there.”

Amara grinned. “Me.”

The girls screamed so loud she had to lower the volume.

Lila nearly fell off her chair. “HOW?! WOMAN, HOW?!”

Talia leaned close to her camera. “We are rich. Like, wealthy. But we are not Rao’s-level wealthy. Explain yourself.”

Amara lifted a brow. “Ethan invited me. He said he wants to finish our business conversation.”

Another explosion of screams.

Sienna gasped dramatically. “And you think this is just business? Amara, baby, please.”

“Stop it,” Amara groaned. “I’m going for business. Business only.”

Lila ignored her completely. “What are you wearing? Don’t say a boring suit. Don’t embarrass us.”

Amara shrugged. “It’s a business meeting—”

“Nope!” Lila cut her off. “We’re going shopping. Immediately.”

Talia nodded quickly. “First time entering Rao’s? You need a memory. An experience. A LOOK.”

Sienna snapped her fingers. “Period!”

Within an hour, Lila was dragging Amara through the mall like a stylist on a mission.

They searched boutique after boutique until Amara saw it —

a stunning African-inspired gown that made her stop breathing for two seconds.

Black lace top.

Delicate sheer sleeves.

A wrap skirt in soft pink, brown, and blue leaf prints.

Flowing. Elegant. Powerful.

The moment she put it on, she knew.

She looked like a woman who owned empires.

Her hair was styled in a sleek low bun.

Her makeup — soft, glowing, feminine.

Her perfume wrapped around her like a warm floral cloud.

When she stepped into Rao’s, the room went quiet.

The chandeliers glowed golden.

The smell of homemade Italian dishes floated through the air.

Old-money clients stared.

Then Ethan stared.

His jaw literally dropped.

He stood so fast his chair scraped the floor.

He looked at her like he forgot how to breathe.

I want to make her mine, he thought helplessly.

God, she’s stunning.

“You look…” Ethan swallowed hard. “Incredible.”

Amara kept her face neutral.

Business only.

No distractions.

“Let’s get to it,” she said, sitting down. “What’s on the agenda today?”

He chuckled quietly. “Straight to business. I like that.”

He leaned forward, voice dropping into something serious.

“After hearing you talk about solar and hydro energy…the way your mind works, your vision… I’ve thought deeply about it.”

He paused.

“I want to invest five billion dollars.”

Amara blinked.

“Five billion.”

“Five,” he confirmed. “But that’s not all.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“I want to work closely with you,” he continued. “With your strategies, you could multiply my wealth. I want you to be my personal financial manager.”

Amara stiffened.

There it was.

The catch.

“What do you take me for?” she asked, voice sharp. “If you want to invest five billion, invest it. Why add these extra conditions?”

He opened his mouth — but she stood up.

“Unfortunately, I can’t accept that position. I am not your personal anything.”

Her tone left no room for argument.

Dinner ended politely… but tension crackled like electricity.

When she walked into the penthouse, the girls were waiting like detectives.

Lila marched toward her. “WHY?! Why would you say no?! Do you know what kind of connection that is?! Networking gold! Blessings, opportunities—”

“You’re all dramatic,” Amara muttered, kicking off her heels.

Sienna crossed her arms. “You’re stubborn.”

Talia hugged a pillow, quiet as usual. “You know what you’re doing. I… guess.”

But inside, Talia was unraveling.

Investors kept rejecting her app.

Deadlines were closing in.

Her runway was shrinking.

In a tiny voice she whispered, “What if I’m wasting my time trying to become the next Mark Zuckerberg? What if I’ve already failed?”

No one answered.

No one knew how to.

Eventually, they ended up sprawled on the couch, wrapped in blankets, N*****x murmuring in the background.

The room felt tired.

Heavy.

Human.

Out of nowhere, Talia spoke.

“I pray we fix our relationship with God… someday.”

Silence fell.

A heavy silence.

All four of them felt something tug inside their chest.

Something they had been avoiding.

Something they suddenly knew they needed.

The beginning of change.

The beginning of surrender.

The beginning of something they couldn’t yet name.