Page 28 of The Secret She Kept in Bollywood

Anya sighed. “Will you promise me that—”

He broke her off with a hard, fast kiss to her lips that sent her blood pumping despite her exhaustion. His forehead rested against hers, his breath warm against her skin. “Nothing that happens between us, or doesn’t happen will affect your relationship with Meera.” He traced a path under her eyes with the pad of his thumb gently. “You look shattered. And that was before you saw the news.”

“I feel it,” she said, giving in. “It’s always like that during the week rushing to rehearsals or the shoot. I’d like nothing more than a bath and then to crawl under the sheets.”

“Sure you won’t fall asleep in the bath?”

The question made her flush. “I don’t think so.”

He tapped her cheek. “Okay, go get out of these clothes. You have to take better care of yourself, Anya.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Anya threw behind her shoulder, warmth blossoming in her belly. She didn’t doubt for a second that Simon was extra concerned right now after witnessing her panic attack. But still, his care felt like a childhood blanket wrapped around her. They’d had sex and yet, there was a true intimacy in the small things, in everyday life that she wanted more of. “I will do my best to satisfy you.”

She heard his laughter behind her and her own mouth curved into a broad smile. Just talking to Simon—even about the most painful part of her past—made her heart sing, her body thrum. When she came back to the bathroom in a thick, fluffy robe that barely covered her thighs, the bathtub was filled with hot water, the scent of jasmine oil rising up from it coiling through the air, with a few candles lit up around it.

Simon stood at the door, his gaze firmly staying on her face. “Don’t fall asleep in there, Angel. We have connecting rooms. I’ll be back to check on you.”

“Connecting rooms?” Anya said raising a brow. “Whose idea was that?”

“Mine.” From the wicked light in his eyes, he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“So you knew how this was all going to play out?”

“The second I saw the headlines, yes. I knew how it would affect you and I planned to keep you close.” He waited, as if worried he’d find complaints from her over his highhanded behavior. “That was before I realized your brothers would interfere. I didn’t want you to think you were alone in dealing with this...just because I...”

“Just because you rejected me?”

“I rejected your ridiculous proposal as you called it. Not you.”

Anya walked toward the bathroom and came to a standstill in front of the door. “Ahh...that means I’ll just have to find the right angle to tempt you.”

Surprised delight shone in his eyes. “If you don’t want me to see you naked, Angel, you better get out of the bathtub fast.”

“And you think that’s going to make me get out quickly or stay in for longer?” She looked at him wickedly over her shoulder, her fingers lingering on the knot of her robe. “You’re confusing reward with punishment, Simon.”

She had the ultimate reward of seeing his eyes darken before she closed the door on him and leaned against it, her knees shaking.

Who’d have known the Raawal boldness would come in so handy one day? And she was only getting started.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SIMONFOLLOWEDANYA’Svoice to Meera’s room across the corridor and pushed the already-open door ajar. If they were not on the production set or the rehearsal halls, he would always find Anya and Meera together either at the small cafe in the neighborhood village or in one of their rooms.

In the two weeks they’d been in Udaipur, the three of them had already settled into a routine. Despite the unpredictability of a production set in progress, delays in schedules, problems with supply chains, somehow Anya made it easy for not only Meera but for him to find some kind of stability.

Much as he wanted to, Simon couldn’t deny the fact that she’d made herself indispensable to both of them and not for any selfish agenda of her own. Not for any other reason than the fact that she cared about Meera and him.

He’d seen her work ten to twelve hours each day, coordinating last-minute fittings and repairs based on rehearsals of the fight scenes, redesigning a part of the men’s armor because some of the leather belts had been lost in delivery, and still she always made time for Meera in the evening.

Every small thing Meera needed, from help with rehearsing her own lines to dealing with a fever on the very night when Simon had been out of town for an overnight trip, dealing with his daughter’s first heartbreak—apparently the punk light boy had found a girlfriend in the catering company—Anya was ever ready, with infinite patience and calm demeanor and quick-witted answers that satisfied even the sulky teenager that Meera could sometimes be.

As he watched her move around Meera’s room picking up all the myriad things his daughter scattered about, a tight knot emerged in his chest. He forced himself to exhale, forced himself to examine the source of his tension.

He’d been waiting for a break in that soft, generous smile.

For a fracture in her sunny temper where she’d say she needed a break from Meera or him or both.

For the dream to lose some of its shine in the dirty patches of reality.

---