Page 19 of The Secret She Kept in Bollywood

“And who brought you this notice?”

His dry tone made Anya flush, but she went on. “Apparently, she and you are planning to buy a villa together...and she’s getting an exclusive designer wedding gown designed for her.”

Simon’s gaze turned inscrutable and Anya had no way of knowing if he knew of it already.

Had he already proposed? Had they even set a date?

Dark and bitter, jealousy twisted her gut as she considered the possibility that soon even thinking about Simon when she went to bed alone, when she tried to imitate his caresses would be forbidden, since he’d belong to someone else. Even this easy camaraderie and strange intimacy they shared—despite his determination to keep her at a distance—she’d have no right to enjoy.

“And where did you see this?”

“On Ms. Sampson’s social media.”

His thick brows rose. “You’ve been spying on her?”

“I went straight to the source instead of listening to the media’s speculations, that’s all.”

One corner of his mouth twitched and Anya had a feeling he was enjoying her discomfiture too much. But at least he wasn’t angry, thank God.

“And now you’ve accosted me at a party to what? Congratulate me?”

“I thought someone should tell you that Meera doesn’t like her at all. In the role of a stepmother, that is.” When his silence began leaching away her courage, Anya just plowed on, her genuine concern for Meera overtaking her innate resistance to the rude way she was barging into his personal life. “And more importantly, she thinks Ms. Sampson neither likes her nor cares about her.”

“And you’re the expert on Ms. Sampson now?”

Anya didn’t miss the fact that he hadn’t denied her claim. “I simply choose to trust Meera’s judgment. As you very well know, she’s desperate for you to be happy. She even mentioned that if marrying Ms. Sampson is what it takes for you to be happy, she’ll bear it. But I don’t think that’s fair at all. She’s just thirteen, she lost her mother not eighteen months ago and she’s handling a new career in another country. She shouldn’t have to put up with a woman who only pretends an interest in her on top of everything else.”

His fingers cupped her shoulder, his mouth flat. “Wait, go back. Meera wants me to be what?”

Anya sighed, relief crashing through her. It was clear that he had no idea of Meera’s concerns for him. “Meera’s worried about you. She talks of you and your loneliness and how...lost you’ve been the last year and a half. She totally adores you, Simon, and thinks Rani’s death has...changed you in ways she doesn’t understand.”

His jaw tightened as he released her. His gaze cut away from her as if he didn’t want to share even a bit of his grief with her. “I lost my wife in a car accident. It should change me.”

Anya’s chest tightened. But there was more than simple grief there. “I’m not questioning why she feels like that. And I didn’t mean to pile on any guilt. I’m just...”

“Sharing one evening with me doesn’t give you the right to interfere in my life.”

His words, delivered in a cold, flat tone, landed hard. As he’d meant for them to. “But being someone who loves Meera unconditionally, someone who’s desperately wishing for a chance to be part of her life permanently, I have the right to ask. I have the right to point out that you might be making a wrong decision,” Anya rallied valiantly.

“Neither Meera nor you know what it’s been like for me.” He glared at her, as if daring her to argue. “As for the matter of Leila, not that it’s any of your—”

“If anyone should be Meera’s mother, it should be me. And we both know that at least the sex between us would be fantastic!”

He rounded on her, his jaw slackened incredulously.

Anya clamped her hand over her mouth, her pulse racing madly all over. She hadn’t realized what she meant to say until the words had just popped out. Until her brain grabbed them out of air and conjured the image of a future that teased Anya’s imagination. She waited for a thread of fear to filter through. The thought of a future with a man—someone who could break her trust all over again, someone who would only see her for what he could get out of her—had always terrified her before. And yet nothing came when she thought of Simon and Meera in her life. Nothing but an unbidden, unwanted thrill shooting through her.

“Is that a proposal, Angel?”

Embarrassment made her skin heat. “It’s not what I meant to say but it’s better than you marrying a woman who barely tolerates Meera, isn’t it?” Anya retorted, bristling. “No other woman in your life will love Meera more wholeheartedly than I already do. And if you’re also getting married for regular sex—hello, ding-ding-ding...? We have a winner there too,” she said, moving her hand between them. “I don’t have much experience with men, as you know, but the kind of chemistry we have... I think it should work for even the irregular kind of sex too.”

“What’s irregular sex? How long have I been celibate for? Did they invent a new kind of sex while I was away from the dating scene?”

Her cheeks were on fire and he was laughing at her now but still, her determination and desperation wouldn’t stop the words from bubbling over. “No, I mean just not traditional sex. But like fun sex. Not that what we did at the hotel was traditional... In fact, I think it kinda straddled the line between traditional and fun...”

“Thank the Lord! For a moment there I was afraid of what I’d missed!”

Anya swatted him. “You’re making fun of me!”

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