Maharaja's Mistress

‘I’ll always want you, so you know you can always have me…but when you tire of me, Ram—’

‘When I tire of you?’ he demanded, frowning.

‘People do tire of each other.’

‘Then they’re not me,’ he said softly. ‘And they’re not you.’

Shaking her head, Mia turned away. She didn’t trust herself to speak, but she had to. ‘I want a chance at this job, Ram. I ask nothing more of you than that. I think perhaps we should stop sleeping together.’

He didn’t press her. He stood by his vow never to promise Mia anything he couldn’t deliver, and right now his determination to disassemble the monarchic system in Ramprakesh and replace it with a democratically elected government was taking up all his time. He wanted to work for his country—and if the people wanted him as their leader, so be it, but standing at his side if that happened was a lot to ask of Mia. He’d had a lifetime to prepare for it. She hadn’t.

He shouldn’t have let this get so deep, he realised as he stared into Mia’s wounded eyes, but he couldn’t help himself—when Mia came back into his life she became his life. He also had to admit that a platonic relationship between them was something he had never considered, but if that was what Mia needed to happen…

‘This isn’t a game to me, Ram,’ she said, calling him back to the present. ‘It’s the rest of my life I have to consider.’

‘Well, on the professional front you should have no worries. You were outstanding today—and with very little time to prepare.’

‘But can I do it without you?’

‘Of course you can,’ he exclaimed. ‘But I guess that’s something you can only find out for yourself—’ And then a terrible suspicion swept over him. ‘You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?’ The thought that she might return home and tender for the project from there had hit him like a truck.

She refused to look at him and, walking to the door, stood with her hand on the handle. ‘I don’t know—I need time, Ram—’

‘There is no time,’ he said impatiently. ‘This is the real world, Mia. Not some fantasy land of your own creation—’

Raising her chin, Mia gave Ram a long, assessing look. He’d changed, and practically overnight. He was still as cool as ever—still as sexy, but young, hot and royal had transformed into a man with his hands firmly wrapped around the reins of power, and, while that was an added aphrodisiac, it was also a warning that if she didn’t get her act together fast, he would leave her behind. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she said, and before he could answer she left the room.

Chapter Seventeen

HE SHOULD have known you couldn’t leave a country without a leader and expect to return and find everything in perfect order, but at least his plans were in place now. Leaning over the carved marble balcony outside his apartment in the palace, Ram took a moment to stare across the moonlit plain. There must be no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was back. Those courtiers who were corrupt or who thought they could manipulate him would soon learn that he was not the impressionable youth who had left Ramprakesh all those years ago. There were things he would set in motion right away, and others that could wait. And Mia was top of that list. She was strong and she would cope—she just didn’t know it yet. He was confident, both in her abilities and in her resilience and strength. Sometimes he thought he knew Mia better than she knew herself. She had seized the challenge he’d set her and had exceeded his every expectation. Yes. Mia was more than ready to take her first step out of the nest. She had to try those wings of hers and discover that they hadn’t been clipped by the accident, and that in fact her trials had only made her stronger.

By 3:00 a.m. she had a skeleton plan along with a spreadsheet of costings to put in front of a bank. She was going into business as an interior designer; she wasn’t playing at it. Tom had already agreed to put up some of the surety, but had warned Mia that she would need more money to pay her suppliers.

And she’d get more money. Somehow…

Fretting, she nibbled her nails. Ramprakesh was almost six hours ahead of London, which didn’t give her enough time to speak to the bank before her second meeting with Ram’s council. There was nothing she could do about it and so she had made every safeguard she could, breaking the assignment into manageable stages so that the financial risk was reasonable.

With the first stage of her plan in place she called down to the kitchen for some food. She could get used to this sort of life, Mia reflected wryly, though Ram had made it clear that he had very different ideas. When it came to the design of his new home he would be using the kitchen, he had told her, and so it had better function well. Cooking was Mia’s passion too, and she couldn’t help imagining them jostling each other in the kitchen. She intended to give that area her special attention—

Like the bedroom?

Her smile faded as her glance darted to the door. For all her protestations of wanting a chaste relationship with Ram from now on, she had left the door unlocked. Wishful thinking? She was beginning to think so. Ram had moved up a gear and out of her life—

But at least she was on the verge of a new life too—

A life without Ram…

It was the early hours of another morning when she pulled the bedclothes tight around her shoulders, but she felt still stiff and cold and small. There was so much on her mind—Ram, mostly. She had to forget about him and see this stay in his country as purely an opportunity to widen her horizons. If she could do that she would have a future when she left here—

And if she couldn’t?

She could waste her whole life pining for him.

She had to learn how to leave the bad boys alone and choose men who were more like comfy slippers—at which point she mumbled something very rude about maharajas.

‘Talking in your sleep, Mia?’

She shot up like a loaded spring.

‘That’s a very bad sign.’

‘Ram!’

She grabbed a sheet and covered herself. ‘Where are you?’ She could hear him, but she couldn’t see him clearly in the shadows. She held her breath, but Ram moved like a panther in the dark, crossing the wide expanse of floor on silent feet. ‘You can’t just—’

She gasped as he threw himself down on the bed—apparently, he could. ‘Ram, I thought we agreed—’

He turned his head to stare at her. ‘You left the door open, and so I thought—’

‘If the door was unlocked it was a mistake.’

Too vehement. He would know at once it was a lie. She dragged the sheets around her even more securely as she asked suspiciously. ‘Have you been in the gym?’

‘You noticed…’

It was hard not to notice. Moonlight framed him, and beneath his top she could see all his muscles were massively pumped and deliciously delineated. ‘Ram, it must be almost dawn.’

‘And you’re still awake,’ he observed with a grin, ‘so it seems we keep the same crazy hours.’

‘But you can’t just come here and expect me to—’

‘Expect you to what?’ he interrupted, his wicked smile flashing in the darkness.

‘To…’ She was stuck. ‘To entertain you?’ she said finally, feeling her resolve melting like snow before the sun. How was anyone supposed to resist Ram in sports shorts and a tight-fitting top with muscles everywhere? Even his feet were sexy—especially when they were entwined with hers?

‘Did I say anything about you entertaining me?’ he demanded.

‘Then why are you here?’ She held her breath.

‘If you want the truth…’

‘And I do,’ she assured him.

‘You’re the only person I can relax with, Mia.’

Was that a good thing? Or did it mean Ram took her for granted? She decided to call his bluff. ‘Relax away—just don’t mind me if I start snoring.’

His response was a low, sexy laugh. ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that, do you?’

Truthfully? None. But there was no nee

d to let Ram think he could have everything his own way. But then it was Ram who changed the tone.

‘There are dozens—maybe hundreds of petitioners already waiting in line outside. Some with justifiable concerns and others who are just trying to curry favour.’

‘I’m sure you can tell them apart.’

‘I’m sure I can too, but it doesn’t make the numbers go away.’

‘You’ll have to make a list—prioritise.’

‘Will I?’ he said. His lips pressed down with amusement as he turned to stare at her.

‘Sorry.’ Drawing up her knees, she wrapped her arms around them. ‘I realise you know that—I just thought—’

‘Okay, Miss Organisation,’ he teased her gently. ‘How are you getting on with your side of things?’

‘Good.’ She couldn’t keep the enthusiasm out of her voice.

‘And it’s good to see you growing in confidence again.’

Thanks to you, she thought.

‘It’s all your own doing, Mia. Only you can have the power to believe in yourself. No one else can help you with that—What’s this?’ he said, noticing the discarded newspaper on the night stand.

She was mortified. And then relieved when she saw the expression on his face.

‘I see you’ve been studying the front page,’ he said. ‘So what do you make of it?’

‘I don’t know what to make of it, to be honest,’ Mia admitted, unsure whether she wanted to hear the truth about Ram standing between a solemn-looking girl and Leila’s father.

‘That shot was taken on the anniversary of Leila’s death, some time ago.’

And now she felt as bad as she could. ‘I’m so sorry—I didn’t know—’

‘How could you know?’

He sat up as she shuffled off the bed, still with the sheet around her.

‘I owed it to Leila’s family to pay my respects,’ he said to her back. ‘And before you run away with the idea that Leila’s younger sister has stepped into her place, let me reassure you that would never happen. I don’t want her. I want you.’

She froze.

‘I don’t want all the old traditions either—I want to keep the best of the old and marry them with the new. Mia?’ Ram prompted, tracing a shimmering line down the inside of her arm. ‘Won’t you come back to bed?’

It didn’t seem the right time, and she still needed to find her level with Ram. Plaything wasn’t enough—not the way she felt about him. ‘Okay, but no sex,’ she said stiffly.

‘But I’ve explained everything to you.’

‘Yes, you have, but you still treat me like a toy to be played with whenever you happen to have a spare moment.’

‘And here was me thinking you liked me to play with you.’ Catching hold of her wrist, he pressed his lips to the tender underside of it, making it hard for her to think, let alone speak.