Chapter 6
MEHER
F or a minute, I thought I had fallen asleep at the wheel and was having some form of Kafka-esque nightmare where a giant swan plowed into my car.
It took me a few moments to realise the swan was real.
And that it wasn’t a bird, but a bird-shaped vehicle.
And that its giant beak had crushed the front of my bonnet.
I leapt out of the car in a fury and made straight for the man who was coming around the corner, wishing I had an axe in the boot so I could chop the bloody swan’s head off. What the hell was I supposed to tell my insurance company? That my tank of a Range Rover had succumbed to a bird hit?
“What the fuck?” I screeched, but the rest of my tirade got stuck in my throat because of the man who was staring at me as if he had seen a ghost. My knees buckled in shock, and I leaned against the damaged bonnet of my car to steady them.
It had been eight years since I last saw him, and I had to admit he had changed a lot.
But I’d recognise the bastard anywhere. His eyes blazed into mine, and my breath froze in my chest. Even now, even after all these years, my body wanted to run and throw itself into his arms. But I remembered what had happened the last time I tried to throw myself into his arms. He’d walked away from me coldly, I reminded myself.
I drew in a shaky breath and swallowed over a dry throat. I was suddenly parched. Hell, I had been parched for eight years. And here he was, looking like a tall glass of water.
No! I was not parched for him. I wanted nothing to do with Samrat Singh Deora. Not now. Not ever.
“Meher,” he said softly, and a long shudder shook me at the sound of my name on his lips.
I waited for it to pass and eyed him coldly. I drew my anger around me like a protective cloak and drew myself up.
“Maj. Deora,” I said pointedly. “What kind of asshole drives up the road from the NH-8 and turns the corner without honking? Or didn’t they teach you to drive in the special forces?”
“I could ask you the same question,” he shot back. “What kind of idiot drives up the road that meets a blind corner and doesn’t honk?”
“Don’t you call me an idiot,” I snarled. “Your swan broke the bonnet of my car! I hope the impact broke its scrawny neck.”
“Please! There’s nothing scrawny about my swan,” he replied, rolling his eyes in disdain.
“Great! I’ll remember to add that in the police report,” I sniped.
“Meher,” screamed my mother from behind me.
Fuck! I had forgotten Ma was in the car with me.
“We’ve known Samrat for years. You can’t threaten him with a police report,” she said hastily, as she jumped out of the car and joined the fray.
“Of course, I can. And it’s not a threat. I need to file a report for insurance purposes,” I replied, not taking my eyes off Samrat. Only because I didn’t trust him, I told myself firmly.
“Haye, beta. I’m sure we can settle things between us,” she said, with a furtive smile in Samrat’s direction.
“Evening, Your Highness. And you’re right. We can easily settle matters between us,” he replied stiffly.
“I don’t think so, Ma. You see, I’m not sure we can trust Maj. Deora to stick around to settle matters. Walking away from situations is an old habit of his,” I said, with a sweet, venomous smile at him.
“Just like I can’t trust you to do the right thing and admit your mistake,” he shot back just as sweetly.
I straightened my spine and raised my chin in defiance.
“It was not my fault,” I said firmly, not sure if I was talking about the accident or about the past.
“So you say. But the evidence says otherwise,” he replied, and I knew we weren’t talking just about the accident.
I liked the nerve of the rat bastard. He abandoned me to the wolves without giving me a chance to explain, did not even give me a second glance before he cut me out of his life, and he had the balls to stand here and accuse me of lying.
I wondered if I could wedge the swan’s sharp beak up his ass without surgical assistance.
“Maj. Deora, I will file a police report immediately and allow the insurance companies to decide whose fault it was,” I said icily. “Although, is it even possible to insure a giant bird?”
“Haye, haye, Samrat beta. What kind of vehicle is that?” asked Ma, screwing her face up in distaste. “Your ancestors will be wailing in heaven to see their son driving such a vehicle. I remember your father used to drive the best sports cars in the country. What happened to all of them?”
Samrat muttered under his breath before he forced a polite smile.
“They weren’t available today, Your Highness. But I promise you they are all intact and functioning,” he said.
“So the swan is a personal style statement, is it?” I asked bitchily, and Samrat’s eyes shot sparks of fury at me that sent a thrill down my spine.
I bet he hated the fact that I was giving him a hard time.
The old Meher had worshipped him blindly and had never said a cross word to him.
Well, this was the new me, and new Meher only had words of hate for Samrat Singh Deora.
He looked me up and down slowly, and I stood up even straighter because I had nothing to hide. I was nothing like the perpetually starving, skinny creature I had been eight years ago, and it showed. I had curves, and I was strong, and I was proud of it.
“Looks like I’m not the only person making a style statement,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on my curves for a few seconds before he looked away.
“I told you not to wear such a revealing jumpsuit,” hissed Ma. “You should have worn that chiffon sari with the gota-patti border.”
I gritted my teeth at the fact that she was still discussing this, and especially in front of Samrat.
“I will wear what I want, Ma, and I don’t care what the likes of him thinks of me,” I snapped.
“Likewise about my car, Meher,” said Samrat coldly. “I will drive what I want to drive, and I don’t care what you think.”
“Fine!”
“Great!”
We glared at each other furiously until my mother sighed loudly.
“Samrat beta, it looks as if neither of our cars is fit to drive, and we cannot keep standing by the side of the road like this. And we cannot possibly get a cab at this hour in this godforsaken place. Can you please call Mirpur Palace and ask them to send us a car?”
“We don’t need his help, Ma. I can get us there easily enough,” I said, pulling my phone out of my slender Celine purse.
“We’re headed to the same place, Meher. It’s no trouble at all,” said Samrat, with a weary sigh, as if I was being difficult.
“I won’t even breathe the same air as you, Samrat. Not now. Not ever,” I hissed.
“Suit yourself, but we’re going to look pretty silly when we ask Ranvijay to send two cars to the same location for just three people. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to trouble my friends for no reason,” he said calmly.
Damn it! He had a point, even if it killed me to admit it.
“Fine,” I said huffily, and stared into the distance as he called Ranvijay and asked him to send a car to fetch us.
It took twenty minutes, but the car got here at last, and we piled into it in complete silence.
Samrat sat ahead, while I sat right behind him so I wouldn’t even have to see his profile.
For the life of me, though, I couldn’t understand why my eyes kept going to the side mirror where I could see him clearly.
And why the hell was it that every time I looked, I found him looking right back at me?