Page 21 of The Secret She Kept in Bollywood

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Would you like to take back your oh-so-romantic proposal now?” he asked, enjoying her discomfiture far too much.

Her fingers tightened around the edges of her shawl. “Yes, I think so.”

He pressed a palm to his chest, curving his mouth in a mocking laugh. “Wow, first the assumption that I’d marry anyone without first considering Meera’s happiness. Then the withdrawal of your proposal. You came packed tonight, Angel.”

“I’m sorry for assuming you wouldn’t consider Meera, but everything pointed to...”

Simon thrust a hand roughly through his hair. “Look, Leila is my oldest friend and business partner. Which, believe me, has given me enough insight into her character. I’m aware that she has no interest whatsoever in Meera. And while I don’t hold it against her, I’m also aware it would make her a very poor choice of wife for me. Despite what she thinks.”

“So she does want to marry you?”

“I’m not answering that, Ms. Raawal.”

“Ms. Raawal? Are we really back to that again? And why not answer me?”

“All you need to know is that no woman will try to push you out of Meera’s life. No woman, other than her mother, has a claim on her affections. Now, I’d prefer it if could you untangle your emotions about me and Meera in your head.” He sent her a confused face a hard glance, carefully picking his words. “It would be nice if you stopped throwing yourself at me just to remain close to my daughter.”

“That’s an awful thing to say!” she gasped.

He remained silent, his blood pounding in his ears.

Outrage sparked in her eyes as she covered the distance between them. “If you must know,” she said, poking him in his chest, her hair mussed from his fingers, her mouth swollen and pink, looking so delectable that it took all he had to not throw her over his shoulder and steal her away all over again, “what I want to do with you has nothing to do with Meera. It has nothing to do with logic or self-preservation or common sense. And it terrifies me to my soul.

“What I want with you is...simply you. I want you for you, Simon. For your kisses. For your kindness. For the generous, honorable man you are even when that results in you pushing me away. God help me, I don’t know how to stop this wanting.”

Before Simon could respond to that heated declaration, she stomped away from him, her back rigid, her steps sure.

For long minutes after she left, he stood there, his ruffled ego soothed by her passionate declaration, his body tight and hungry for release, his emotions in as big a tangle as their old string of Christmas lights in Meera’s hands.

He’d had no problem rejecting Leila’s suggestion that they wed earlier that evening, or holding out against her rational arguments when he’d refused. But deep down in his soul, Anya Raawal and her...horribly awkward but endearing non-proposal tempted him.

Shetempted him. To no end.

No one made him laugh like she did.

No one made him come alive like she did.

No one made him want to abandon the little common sense he had left in him and simply seduce her, take whatever she was willing to give him.

For once, Simon wanted to be totally selfish and damn the consequences to hell. He wanted the joy and unfettered pleasure Anya Raawal brought to his life by her mere presence.

He wanted to be the Simon he’d glimpsed in her eyes.

CHAPTER SIX

THELASTTHINGAnya had expected when she walked into the MahaRani suite at the beautifully renovated luxury hotel—historically called the Palace of Mirrors—in Udaipur for the shoot location was to find her brothers and Simon waiting on her.

It had been a surprise when the production coordinator had directed her to this hotel when her brothers and the crew were staying closer to the set a few kilometers away. Not that she had any complaints about a stay in the luxurious hotel—even Vikram with all his reach hadn’t been able to book this suite last year when he’d wanted to impress Naina.

Until she had stepped into the beautiful foyer and realized the hotel and its recent renovation from a dilapidated palace was one of Simon’s recent projects.

The suite she’d been accorded was vast, luxurious, with a private courtyard and a pool in the back. A gazebo, assumed to be the secret meeting place of two local lovers, sat on the edge of the beautiful pool like the pendant on a pearl necklace. As a history buff, there was nothing she liked more than to study local history, mine the rich folktales, try to see the past come alive through clothes and architecture and weaponry that had once been used.

With Simon standing on one side of the sitting lounge, both her brothers on the other, and Zara and Naina sitting on a luxurious settee in between them, it was as if one of the local battles was about to take place in this very suite. She didn’t even have a moment to marvel at the thick Persian rug under her feet or the classy royal procession wallpaper design that gave the suite an utterly elegant, almost royal look.

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