Page 35 of The Secret She Kept in Bollywood

She looked at him through a tremulous smile. “I was done a couple of hours ago. All the celebrating I want to do now is with you.”

Simon stared at her, another piece clicking into place.

For months before her accident, he’d tried to break through the wall that Rani had pulled up between them. He’d been nearly driven out of his mind trying to work out what would make her happy. About how to build a bridge back to her. Worried about losing her all over again. In the end, her infuriating demands and her silent rejection of everything he’d tried had killed the love he’d once felt for her. Long before she’d decided to go back to acting and try to revive her career, their relationship had died. But then she’d died before she could set her plans into motion.

And here was this woman...who wore everything she felt on her face.

Who asked outright for what she wanted of him.

Who was turning him upside down by her mere presence.

His assumption that she was too fragile like Rani, that she’d fall apart at the smallest obstacle, that she wouldn’t know her own mind...disintegrated into dust at his feet.

She was nothing like Rani.

And the realization loosened the tight thread of fear he’d clutched to him ever since she’d set those beautiful brown eyes on him. Maybe Virat was right. Maybe thinking he’d been wholly responsible for Rani’s happiness was only his arrogance and worse, his fear talking.

“Where are we going?”

To give herself credit, Anya had tried to bury the question for the entire fifteen-minute ride on the helicopter that Simon kept at the luxury hotel and that he himself had piloted. But it was a little past midnight and she’d thought they’d be in bed.

Instead, he’d tugged her outside, talked on the phone with his arm around her and then said, “Let’s go,” which instruction she had blindly, happily followed. Of course, he’d asked her if she’d trust him to fly her safely, after rattling off the number of hours that he had piloted for.

Anya stepped out of the chopper now, taking in the restored palace in front of her with wide eyes. She’d studied the history of the city and the kings and queens that had ruled it in majestic splendor. Which was why she knew that the small palace in front of her—small being relative in comparison to the huge, sprawling one that they were currently shooting the movie in—was the only one that had stayed under the ownership of a reclusive royal who’d refused any price tag for the government or any other millionaires.

Clasping her hand in his, Simon simply pressed another quick kiss to her temple before saying, “You’ll see.”

Anticipation bloomed in her belly as they mounted the steps toward a smaller entrance instead of the grand, wide entrance. A uniformed servant dressed in traditional clothes bowed his head and then bade them to follow. Her mouth progressively fell open as they followed him through corridor after corridor. Priceless art hung on the walls, and there were decadent rugs, and antique furniture casually strewed about the palace. While she wanted to linger and learn the history behind every piece, Anya simply followed along.

After what felt like a ten-minute walk, they were shown into what might once have been a woman’s boudoir. For the vast room was covered in mirrors all around her, with several open archways leading into different corridors. Her gasp was loud as Anya walked around, seeing their reflections grinning back at them.

And still, the best wasn’t over yet.

Divans of different sizes and heights were placed between the open archways. Each covered with clothes, leather armor, weapons, jewelry.

“What is this place?” Anya asked, feeling as if she was standing at a different time and place in history.

Raising her hand to his mouth, Simon grinned. “It’s a private collection. A friend of mine owns it. This palace actually belonged to the famous dancer who was supposed to have been the lover of the king.”

“The king who owned the other palace where we’re shooting?”

“Yes. Did you know both the palaces are connected through a secret passageway? Although I’ve heard it’s been a century at least since it’s been blocked.”

“He kept his lover here?”

“Yes. Apparently, she hailed from an enemy clan.”

“Or he simply wanted to have his cake and eat it too?” Anya replied, grinning back at Simon.

“Possible,” he answered, letting her hand go. “But the clothes and the jewelry and the weapons...they’re all centuries old. I thought you would enjoy seeing the collection.”

Anya threw herself at him, joy bursting through her chest.

For a second, Simon was stiff around her. Then she heard his laughter and his arms surrounded her. Feeling vulnerable and yet as if she might burst apart, Anya pushed away. “How long do we have?”

“He’s having the collection moved permanently tomorrow morning. So I’d say we have a few hours. We can’t take any pictures or copy the designs.”

“Of course,” Anya said, awe filling her throat. “You don’t mind if I spend a couple of hours here?”

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