Maharaja's Mistress

by Susan Stephens

  ‘If you love it so much, why aren’t you wearing it?’ Ram had demanded while running the fingertips of one hand very lightly down her arm.

  Even as her whole body had filled with heat Mia had kept her cool. ‘I love the dress you bought for me, Ram, but I prefer the one I’m wearing.’ And with one last defiant glance she had slipped out of his grasp.

  But Ram had been too fast for her. Catching hold of her arm, he brought her in front of him. ‘I wanted to be the one to choose your first grown-up dress.’

  ‘Well, you did—and when you start treating me like a grown-up I’ll be sure to wear it.’

  Mia could still remember the buzz it had given her to flirt with Ram. She had never courted danger quite so avidly before. She had never realised how dangerous Ram could be. She had teased and provoked him on many occasions, but on that night she had been purposefully pushing it. She couldn’t have known that this exhilarating encounter was heralding the end—or that Ram had only bought her the dress as a goodbye gift. He had gone on to explain as if she were still a child that he had wanted to buy her something special before he left to take up his place in the world. And when she had accused him of being pompous he had turned cold—colder than she’d ever known him as he told her that from that night everything must change—

  ‘Why must it?’ she had demanded like a spoiled child. When you were young, you couldn’t imagine things changing and Ram had always been part of her life.

  ‘Did he kiss you then to console you?’ Xheni demanded, jolting Mia back to the present day.

  ‘Ram was not my age—my class. We were impoverished. He was not. Ram came from a long line of noble maharajahs, whereas I came from a long line of scoundrels.’

  ‘And all the more interesting for it,’ Xheni insisted with a flick of her hand. ‘I think you’re making excuses,’ she said, exchanging glances with the other girls. ‘I think you like Ram a lot more than you’re prepared to tell us.’

  ‘He was a childhood crush and nothing more—he was my brother’s friend—’

  ‘That all sounds like excuses to me,’ Xheni observed crisply.

  ‘I’m not making excuses—I’m telling you how it is. I would never dream of impulsively kissing a man so much older than me—especially one who was destined to embark on such a very different path through life.’

  All this was true. She had always been bold, but she had never been stupid. At least, not until the night Ram left, when she had turned on the self-destruct switch, wanting nothing more than to court danger until there was no pain left.

  What a waste of an eye that had been. Ram had never left her mind once—or her heart—and the pain of losing him had only increased on the day of the accident when she’d lost her sight.

  ‘Well, Cinderella,’ Xheni insisted, dragging Mia back to the present day. ‘Tonight you shall go to the ball…’

  ‘Oh, no—I couldn’t possibly borrow that,’ Mia protested as Xheni brandished one of her most recent catwalk trophies. She knew the girls liked spoiling her, but she had never expected a gesture like this. ‘It must be worth a fortune.’

  ‘It is,’ Xheni assured her, shaking out the flirty-length column of coral silk. ‘And it will look perfect on you—don’t argue. I’ll soon have plenty more where this came from.’

  ‘But you’ve only recently—’

  ‘Changed careers?’ Xheni glanced out of the open door across the hallway to where her waitress’s smock hung freshly laundered on a padded hanger inside the doorway of her room, ready to return to the hotel that had employed her until she got her big break.

  Mia glanced from the neatly pressed smock to the hot dress Xheni was holding out to her. The padded hanger alone, judging by its fancy logo, was probably worth far more than Xheni’s redundant polyester uniform.

  ‘Let’s have some confidence, shall we? Both of us?’ the young model prompted, standing up. ‘Now, go have that shower…and come out smelling of—’

  ‘Roses?’ Mia suggested tongue in cheek.

  ‘Anything but engine oil,’ Xheni exclaimed, pulling a comic face.

  Chapter Six

  MIA took her time in the shower, luxuriating in suds, refusing to let anything, least of all Ram Varindha, to interrupt her metime—though she did caress her breasts and imagine it was Ram’s hands stroking them. But apart from that…

  ‘Mia,’ Xheni called out helpfully from behind the bathroom door. ‘Ram’s here to see you—’

  ‘What?’ The steaming water continued to thunder down, while Mia froze mid-expletive with her elbows pointing skywards and her fingers planted securely in the bubbly tangle that was her hair. ‘What do you mean, Ram’s here? He’s supposed to be sending his driver.’ When there was no reply, she switched off the shower. She could only hope that by some miracle Xheni was mistaken.

  ‘The Raja’s here,’ Xheni whispered through the door. ‘I showed him onto the balcony so he wouldn’t have to look at our mess.’ Xheni laughed.

  Mia didn’t laugh.

  There was a pause and then Xheni added in a louder voice, ‘Mia, are you all right in there?’

  ‘’M okay,’ Mia managed, fighting off a breakdown. Her frantic gaze tore around the tiny bathroom, locating towels, clothes, her toothbrush and some paste—

  ‘Isn’t it great Ram’s come round to see you?’ Xheni whispered happily. ‘But don’t be too long in there, Mia. It’s threatening rain and he’s standing outside.’

  There was another pause—much longer this time.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right in there?’ Xheni demanded. ‘Mia—please answer me—I’m starting to worry…’

  ‘Just leave me to get dressed—I’ll be as quick as I can—promise—’ This promise was made as she cannoned off one wall and then the other in her desperate rush to get some clothes on.

  ‘There’s a lot of noise in there.’ Xheni sounded concerned. ‘What are you doing?’

  Struggling to pull on her clothes without wasting time drying herself? Right now she was hopping frantically with one leg in her knickers while she cleaned her teeth at the same time.

  ‘Mia, can you hear me?’ Xheni demanded anxiously. ‘That was thunder—and Ram’s standing…on…the…balcony.’

  ‘I can hear you, Xheni,’ Mia shouted between spitting, swilling and wiping her mouth. ‘Tell him I’ll be right there.’

  ‘The girls and I are on our way out,’ Xheni called back. ‘Why don’t you join us? We’ll be at the Dragon Club—chocolate martinis. How can you resist? Bring Ram along—’

  ‘Xheni, wait—don’t leave me alone—’

  Too late. The front door had just closed on a world of giggling.

  She was on her own.

  With Ram.

  She calmed herself. She would not rush. If Ram had changed the arrangements without consulting her, then Ram could damn well wait. Meanwhile, she had some serious thinking to do.

  She took extra care with her appearance, loving the cool, slinky dress Xheni had lent her for the night. The coral silk felt sensational against her skin, and the figure-hugging couture cut ensured it flattered every part of her. She needed all the help she could get, Mia concluded, checking her eyepatch was still on the shelf where she’d left it. She teamed the dress with some pretty, strappy sandals and then thought about make-up.

  She studied her naked face in the mirror. One eye was cloudy, the other clear—a bit like life, really, Mia concluded. One moment she knew exactly what she was doing and the next she was in a fog. The only certainty was, no way was she leaving this bathroom with her tail between her legs. But she would fix her eyepatch in place.

  With these thoughts under her belt she started with lip gloss, applying it carefully before adding some smudgy grey shadow to the eye on show. She had left her hair in the soft curls it customarily fell in when she didn’t spike it up with gel, and after a flirt with the mascara wand she was ready…pretty much. She checked her appearance one last time, craning her neck to see a rear view. Then drawing a
deep breath, she buckled on her mental armour and went to find Ram.

  When she entered the small sitting room Ram was standing on the balcony. He turned the moment he heard her come in. Slipping his sunglasses down his nose, he took one look at her and stowed them in his pocket. Smiling faintly, he murmured, ‘Mia…’

  ‘Will I do?’

  He pretended to consider this—the rasp of thumb on stubble drawing her attention to his sexy mouth. ‘Different? Quirky? Refreshing?’ he said. ‘Yes. You’ll do.’

  ‘You make me sound like the latest design-led power shower.’

  ‘It could be worse,’ Ram countered, his lips pressing down attractively as he shrugged and held her gaze. ‘I could have likened you to a little ray of sunshine—and I just know how much you’d love that.’

  ‘You wish,’ she said, raising a brow. ‘You clean up well too,’ she observed casually.

  Major understatement. Ram looked hot in nothing more exciting than plain dark trousers and a crisp checked shirt. It was how he wore them that made the difference—elegantly—casually—hot-chic couture on the hottest of fit bodies. You didn’t need anything more than that. And then there was the heavy-duty belt that cinched his waist, drawing her fascinated gaze down over his rock-hard belly to his—

  ‘Are you ready to go?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, refocusing rapidly. ‘I’ll just stick my purse in my handbag.’

  ‘You’re paying? Even better,’ Ram observed with amusement in his rich, husky baritone.

  ‘Taxi fare home, actually—my mother told me I should always have it.’

  ‘Your mother was right.’

  ‘Won’t be a moment,’ she threw over her shoulder as she exited the room.

  The truth was, she needed a moment to cool down and collect her thoughts. Leaning back against the door, she drew in a deep, steadying breath. This was madness—

  This was inevitable. So why pretend it was anything else?

  ‘Just coming,’ she called, quelling her excitement at the thought of all that hard-muscled flesh awaiting further investigation. Not that she’d get a chance, but a girl could dream, couldn’t she?

  He stared at Mia when she came back into the room. Even with her hair cut short she looked lovely, and, with her gamine features and piquant style, very French. But where did she get that dress? Initially, he’d been impressed by the trafficstopping outfit and it had pleased him to think Mia had chosen to go to such an effort for their night out. The beautifully cut dress screamed couture, but it was a gown that, however successful a meet-and-greet girl Mia might have become in such an improbably short space of time, she would never be able to afford…

  Suspicion coiled deep inside him. Mia might have grown up and she had certainly been bruised by life, but she had always had a wild streak. Had some man bought her favours with pretty clothes? Fury snapped inside him. And joining it was lust.

  He put the anger aside, telling himself that who she spent her time with was none of his business. He had no interest in investigating all the ins and outs of Mia’s life—none at all—

  And if he believed that, Ram concluded as Mia’s warm, soft body brushed his when they made a theatrical play of linking arms before they left the apartment, then it was time for him to touch base with reality.

  The clouds had lifted by the time they stepped outside, and the evening promised to be warm and fine. ‘Where are we going?’ Mia asked Ram as he prompted her to turn down a cobbled alleyway in the direction of the waterfront.

  ‘To celebrate.’

  Vague or what? The girls had told her Ram’s yacht was in the harbour—’Ram’s floating city’ was how they had described it, begging Mia to somehow blag a guided tour. She’d try, she had assured them, assuring herself even she wasn’t that mad; going on board a billionaire’s yacht was something she had promised herself she would never do—especially not Ram’s.

  But right now he was guiding her towards one particular and very famous doorway. ‘The best club in town?’ she said nervously.

  ‘We talked about it.’

  ‘And you know I hate clubs.’

  ‘You’ll be fine with me.’

  Would she? As soon as she recognised their destination, Mia could think of a thousand reasons why she didn’t want to go there. She wouldn’t be able to relax in case she made a fool of herself. She might be dressed up to the nines thanks to the girls, but she was clumsy and totally lacked sophistication. There would be the usual clutch of royalty and celebrities—and don’t even get her started on her scars, when all the glamorous patrons would be paparazzi-picture-perfect. And she was with Ram, who was hardly inconspicuous…‘What have I done to deserve this?’ she murmured anxiously as the doorman saluted Ram.

  ‘Beats me,’ Ram replied dryly as he ushered her inside.

  The heat of the club rose up to envelop them and it was laced with an exotic mingling of scent. Ram held her arm all the way down the dimly lit steps and she was glad of it as she picked her way in Xheni’s stratospherically high heels. The dark, womblike cave was packed, Mia realised with alarm, but everyone made way for Ram. And now music was throbbing through her—familiar music. ‘Motown?’ she demanded, turning an accusing stare on him. ‘So you didn’t set this up?’

  ‘Me?’ he said, pressing his hand to his chest as he gave her his best shot at an innocent look. ‘Along with the crowd of extras?’ he suggested as another well-known prince sauntered by.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘That’s up to you.’

  She felt a thrill of anticipation as Ram’s hand tightened on her arm. ‘I’m not going to lose you in the crowd,’ he promised, steering her forward.

  As if she were going to leave his side, Mia thought, wondering if every tiny hair on the back of her neck was going to remain permanently erect.

  ‘Motown night is always the most popular,’ Ram explained as the maître d’ came hurrying forward.

  ‘And you didn’t have a thing to do with it,’ Mia commented dryly. ‘It was by sheer chance that the DJ happened to be playing my favourite music when I walked in.’

  ‘It’s a good job I’m back in your life,’ Ram observed, shooting Mia a devastatingly stern look. ‘You’ve become far too cynical since I’ve been away.’

  ‘You mean, I’m not as gullible as I used to be,’ she countered.

  Ram was quite an operator—if you liked your men straight up. A non-alcoholic cocktail seemed a safer bet to Mia right now—though, admittedly, not half as interesting.

  And guess what? The owner of the club had personally reserved the best table for them—a table that enjoyed an even more advantageous location than the table occupied by the other prince and his party, Mia noticed. ‘So they spoil you here too?’

  ‘Champagne?’ Ram suggested, curbing a grin.

  ‘Orange juice for me,’ Mia said primly.

  The DJ chose that moment to play a new track. Heatwave? No kidding.

  A jug of orange juice later and Mia was finally starting to relax. Ram had been nothing but relaxed, and he was seemingly unaware that he had the undivided attention of every woman in the club—

  Did she say relaxed? Ram had just leaned forward to ask her if she loved him! ‘I beg your pardon?’ she exclaimed, leaning back.

  ‘“Do You Love Me”—great tune.’ Ram’s ridiculously handsome face creased in a grin.

  She slid him a disapproving look. ‘Very nice.’

  ‘Do you wanna dance?’

  ‘Song title or action?’ she demanded. As Ram cupped his hands around his mouth to yell above the music she was determined not to be caught out a second time.

  ‘Action,’ he said, standing up.

  Dance with Ram? Dance with the most dangerous man on the planet. There were surely more dangerous pursuits she had indulged in—but she couldn’t think of one right now.

  ‘Unless you’re scared I’ll show you up?’ he suggested.

  ‘As if.’

  Ram was already on his
feet and reaching for her.

  So why was she still hanging back?

  Maybe because the dance floor was heaving with the type of people who regularly graced the front page of the world’s leading society magazines all currently performing their own heated up version of the twist—

  So? She could do no worse than fall flat on her face.

  It was only a short step from their table to the dance floor—or it would have been if Ram hadn’t swept her off her feet and deposited her in the middle of the floor. ‘No escaping now,’ he told her with a grin.

  In Mia’s opinion, men who could both dance and look sexy could be counted on the fingers of one hand, and yet Ram managed to do both with ease. And, was it her imagination, or had the track segued into a slower number? And how did she come to be in his arms? Was he making signals to the DJ behind her back? She wouldn’t put anything past him.

  As the palm of Ram’s hand coasted slowly down her back Mia finally had to admit that she had no defences left. Ram must feel her trembling beneath her fine silk dress. And yes, she wanted him. She ached for him. But she held herself away from his seductive heat—until it struck her that, like all those years ago, this could be a charity turn around the floor. Ram had stepped in once before so she didn’t feel embarrassed. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

  ‘What if I want to?’

  ‘What if I know you don’t?’

  Ram’s brow creased attractively. ‘I’d have to say you don’t know what you’re talking about—and I can only assume that all these excuses are to cover for the fact that you’re scared of dancing with me.’

  ‘Scared of you?’ she huffed.

  ‘If that’s not the case then you have nothing to worry about, do you?’ he said, dragging her close.

  She had plenty to worry about, Mia realised as Ram’s heat invaded her body.

  ‘You’re doing me a favour, actually,’ he confided.

  ‘I am?’