Two weeks without speaking to her and two weeks without crossing the connecting door.
Yet somehow, he still expected obedience.
“You can't tell me—”
“I can.”
Before she could argue, he took her hand and walked her toward the exit.
She followed.
And somewhere between the dying alarm and the tunnel and the weight of his hand around hers, she lost track of what had unsettled her more.
The sabotage. Or the fact that when the alarm had screamed and the lights had turned red, his first move had been toward her.
.
CHAPTER 41
It was morning.
Yamini sat alone in the eastern sitting room, a breakfast tray untouched in front of her. The tea had gone cold. Sheru pawed lazily at a slice of bread, tail flicking.
Beyond the tall windows, the mountains were pale gold in the early light. Snow glittered. Pine trees stood perfectly still.
She hadn't slept well the previous night.
Her mind kept returning to the factory incident and what followed after.
By the time they landed within the palace gates, the man who had pulled her through chaos and single-handedly fought four men had already disappeared.
In his place, once again stood the cold, controlled maharaja. He had stepped out of the helicopter, issued two precise instructions to security, walked straight toward his office, and offered no explanation.
“Arrogant,” she muttered to Sheru, who was not listening. “Cold. Insufferable.”
He could move through a crisis without breaking pace. He could clear a factory floor with two snapped fingers. He could fight multiple men on his own.
But he did not get to decide how she felt about any of it.
The door opened behind her.
Yamini didn’t turn. “I'll clear it myself,” she said, assuming it was palace staff coming for the tray.
“Wear this,” a familiar, deep voice commanded.
Her fingers tightened around the teacup.
She turned.
Bharat stood in the doorway. He wasn’t wearing a suit. He wore dark riding trousers tucked into heavy boots dusted with frost, and a charcoal wool sweater.
He looked younger. And somehow more dangerous for it.
He was holding a long winter coat.
“I'm not going anywhere,” she said coolly.
He stepped forward. His movements were neither hurried nor irritated. He simply appeared certain.
