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Simon shook his head. “Be my guest.”
After that invitation, Anya didn’t hesitate. She let the ornate jewelry, the lavish handmadelehengas, the starkly beautiful hand swords and knives dazzle her, carry her away to another time.
It was past three in the morning when she walked up to Simon and told him she was ready to go. This time, no servant walked them out. Dawn was still an hour or so away but the courtyard where Simon had landed the chopper was littered with lights to show the way.
Anya pulled Simon against a wall and kissed his mouth, pouring all the emotion that wanted to burst out of her into the kiss. They were panting when they broke apart.
“What was that for?” Simon asked, his grin wide, his eyes dancing.
“Thank you so much for taking me. For knowing how much I’d appreciate seeing something like that before it forever disappeared into someone’s vault.”
Simon rubbed the curve of her lower lip, still smiling. “I’ll admit to doing it for completely selfish reasons.”
“Yeah? What might those be?”
“To win one over all the young studs on the set that keep swarming around you.”
Anya laughed so hard that she was afraid her heart might burst out of her. She pressed her face into his neck and licked the salt of his skin. His erection, as if in reward, hardened against her lower belly. “All I want is you, Simon.”
With a hard sigh, Simon tugged her toward the chopper, his gaze promising any number of delights.
CHAPTER TEN
OUTOFALLthe things Anya had been terrified that the interview host would ask Meera, she hadn’t imagined in her worst nightmare that the thing that would shatter the young girl’s easy confidence and expansive faith in the world would be to do with Rani Verma.
With the fact that Rani had apparently signed on to a large project with Raawal House of Cinema—of all the production houses in the world—in what was supposed to have been a huge comeback, a mere three months before her death in the accident. Or the awful rumor that on the same trip to Mumbai, Rani had also visited a high-profile divorce lawyer, according to a source close to the late actress.
Hours later, she couldn’t still believe the utter malice in pouncing on a thirteen-year-old and asking her such an intrusive question about her dead mother in what was supposed to have been a fun interview. No wonder Simon hated the thought of Meera in the midst of such a toxic culture.
Her steps felt leaden as Anya remembered the stricken expression in the girl’s face.
It had been clear that Meera had had no idea that her mother was returning to Bollywood, or that she had signed on to such a major blockbuster project that she’d have been on a production site for at least nine months.
But Meera had recovered fast, and said it should be no surprise that a talent like her mother’s would have come back to the silver screen sooner or later. As for the divorce, she’d said, those were just horrible rumors. Her mouth had been trembling, but her gaze was resolute.
The moment the camera had cut, she had rushed away from the temporary set in search of her father. Anya had followed silently, not wishing to intrude on such a private moment. But wanting to be there in case Meera needed to vent.
For hours after Simon learned of the interview, father and daughter had been behind closed doors in Meera’s room.
Anya drifted through the courtyard and then back into the lounge outside Meera’s bedroom like a cursed ghost, wanting to go in but so, so afraid that she’d be seen as an unwelcome intrusion. That when it mattered, she’d always be on the outside looking in on father and daughter. Because her foolish heart ached for Simon as much as it did for Meera.
Had Rani and Simon been on the cusp of separation?
Was that why Simon always seemed so reluctant to even broach the topic of his marriage?
I didn’t give her what she wanted and she resented me for it... I let her down...
Simon’s words pinged through her until useless thoughts spun around and around in Anya’s head. She felt an irrational anger toward a woman she hadn’t even known for casting such a large shadow over Meera’s and Simon’s lives. The moment the thought crossed Anya’s mind, she knew she was in deep trouble.
But the truth was that his marriage to Rani—whatever it had been like—cast a pall on Simon’s present. Maybe even on his future. On their future. And she wanted to know what she was up against. But she was also afraid of rocking the boat, of pushing Simon when the topic was clearly taboo for him, of losing what little she had with him.
It didn’t matter that she’d spent every single night in the last week in his bed. It didn’t matter that they’d crossed over all the lines Simon had wanted to draw between them. Her thoughts went in circular directions, her statement that she’d keep it casual biting at her.
After what felt like a long while, Simon stepped out, looking at his phone. His features were taut with tension. Still, a soft smile curved his mouth when he found her standing there.
Relief swept through Anya in waves and she cursed herself for the fear beneath it. Was it fair to herself if she was this scared of things falling apart so easily?
He lifted the phone. “I was just about to call you.”
