Page 38 of The Secret She Kept in Bollywood

“Of course I will.”

He pulled her to the small lounge at the end of the corridor, his hand at her lower back. “I’ve told her that I knew about Rani signing that project. That we’d been waiting to have all the logistics in place before we gave her the news. But that her mother had passed away before that ever happened. All of which is more or less true... And the other part...” His gaze had that far-off look again. “I can’t destroy her mother’s memory, so I’ve told her that it was all a lie built off the fact that her mother was returning to her career. I think she wants some reassurance from you.”

Anya nodded. “For all she didn’t blink when they threw that at her, she’s only a girl.”

He gazed at her for a while, his thoughts inscrutable, his fingers never not touching her in that way of his. Her shoulders, the nape of her neck, her back, his broad palms stroked her. Anya let the touch soothe her, aware that that’s what he was doing too.

Then he pulled her to him with a rough groan, and kissed her. Hard. Long fingers buried in her hair tipped her head up for his pleasure. His teeth nipped at her lower lip, and when she opened, he swooped in with his tongue, stroking, licking, until their breaths were a harsh symphony. It was possessive and rough and feral and Anya reveled in every moment of it.

He leaned his forehead against hers, his breath choppy. “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”

Anya licked her lower lip and gasped, the tiny sting making the pleasure singing through her body all the more potent.

Simon’s gaze followed the movement. His breath feathered over her in rough strokes. “Damn it, Angel. I’m sorry I was rough.”

Anya rubbed a finger over his lush lower lip and shook her head. “You’ve never done anything with me that I didn’t enjoy thoroughly, Simon.”

“For once, I don’t want to share you with Meera. I want you for myself. I want to forget this entire day happened. I want to bury myself deep inside you. I want to run away from all this...” His arm wound around her waist and tugged until she was pressed against him. Her breasts felt heavy, achy when he crushed her to him. “And you would be the perfect escape. The perfect place to land, Angel.”

Anya buried her face in his neck, the raw admission spreading through her limbs like molten honey.

Only an escape, Anya. You’re just a temporary pleasure for him. Not a partner he’ll share his hurt with, his life with, the nasty, doubtful voice inside her head whispered, but she shushed it up.

When he released her, she said, “I’ll ask Naina and Zara over after we’re done talking. Meera loves hanging out with all of us.” She hesitated a beat and then asked, “Where will you be?”

“I’m going to get drunk and maybe punch one of your brothers for not vetting that reporter enough. For not telling me that it was their house Rani had signed on with.”

Shock made her mouth fall open until Anya realized he was joking.

“Don’t worry. I’m aware that I’m looking for someone other than myself to blame. But they should serve my purpose for a little while.”

“They can take it,” she said automatically, her head full of a hundred questions.

“All joking aside, I do think Vikram could have dropped a small hint to me in our conversations.”

“And you?” Anya asked, despite knowing that she should let him go. “Have you ever recovered, Simon?”

Instant tension swathed his features, the tender lover of moments ago all but gone. “From what?”

“From the fact that your wife saw a divorce lawyer and didn’t tell you?”

He laughed bitterly and thrust a hand through his hair. “Remember how you asked me if I could turn back time that first moment we met? I wish I could, because damn it, I’d have made better decisions. First I hurt Rani and now, what I drove her to, is hurting Meera.”

With that, his gaze turned to the dark night beyond the balcony. He’d kissed her, held her, he trusted her to look after Meera, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to share his deepest pain with her.

Before she begged him to explain why there was such guilt in his eyes, Anya forced herself to walk toward Meera’s room. He didn’t need her probing into that wound right now. Didn’t need her to bring up the guilt and pain that twisted and pulsed beneath every word.

At least with Meera, she knew that she’d be able to allay her fears, to show her how much she loved her.

Orange light was filtering through the sheer silk curtains in her room by the time Anya returned to her room. While she’d caught more than a few hours of sleep in Meera’s queen bed, she felt bone-tired and lethargic like never before. Either she was getting anemic again—she made a note in her calendar to call her GP—or her body was telling her to slow down.

She had been pushing too hard this last month so she’d informed Virat that she was taking a day off and then turned her phone off. After finishing a quick shower, she put on one of the T-shirts she’d stolen from Simon, and crawled into her own bed when she heard the connecting door open with a soft creak.

Simon’s broad shoulders and tapering waist and those long legs... She drank in the outline of him as if it was her life’s fuel. All the tiredness fled her body just like that, a nervous energy, a restless hum under her skin taking its place.

“I’m awake,” she whispered, afraid that he would turn around and walk out.

The night lamp came on by her side of the bed, illuminating him completely. From the dark wet gleam of his jet-black hair, it was clear he’d just showered too. Dark circles straddling his eyes made it clear that he hadn’t slept a wink.

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