CHAPTER 13
Her breath hissed out at the soreness that still lingered between her legs despite the hot bath.
She was running late for breakfast. But it wasn’t because she had woken up late.
The palace maids had appeared at her door at sharp seven thirty, efficient and respectful, ready to dress her. But she had thanked them and sent them away. She could have used their help because she was sore. But she didn’t want the Jogra palace staff to see how rattled she was.
So instead, she had taken a long bath by herself in the clawed bathtub and dressed in a beautiful sapphire blue dress that hung in the overly large walk-in closet. She ignored the jewelry and accessories.
She was ready by eight thirty. But knowing Bharat Jogra expected her to be at breakfast at sharp 9:00, she deliberately waited until it was 9:05 before stepping out of the room.
It was 9:08 by the time she reached the breakfast area.
“Maharani,” the guards outside the dining area greeted with a bow before pushing the large double doors open.
Sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bouncing off snow-covered peaks that stretched endlessly beyond the glass. The view was breathtaking. Calm and serene.
She felt none of those things as she stepped in.
Bharat Jogra was already seated at the long dining table with several breakfast dishes.
He was impeccably dressed in a dark blue shirt and tailored trousers. A smart tablet lay beside his plate, his attention fixed on the screen, his posture straight and composed while he had breakfast.
He didn’t look up.
Not even when she stepped closer, and a palace staff member pulled a chair opposite him.
Heat crept up her face as the previous night replayed itself in her mind like a B-rated movie. She recalled the way he had claimed her with absolutely no hesitation or awkwardness. And the way her body had responded far too eagerly, and the sounds she had made.
But now, he was back to ignoring her again.
He didn’t even remark that she was late by ten minutes. She was sure he could see the time on the tablet and also heard the grandfather clock, which struck each hour.
This contract marriage is just a business transaction to him.
She reminded herself that he didn’t even kiss her.
Clenching her jaw, she sat down, only to wince at the soreness between her legs.
Just as she glared at his perfectly styled hair, a maid appeared.
“Chai or coffee, maharani?” she asked.
“I’ll have chai,” Yamini said, her eyes falling on the gold-rimmed tea cup next to Bharat Jogra with steam rising over pink-hued tea. Somehow, she imagined him to be a black coffee drinker.
The maid poured rich pink-hued tea into a cup and set it on a saucer beside her.
Yamini murmured thanks before picking up the teacup and taking a mouthful of chai to get her morning fuel. But the moment the pink liquid touched her tongue, she nearly spit it out.
What the hell?
The pink-hued chai was salty.
She almost thought someone had mistakenly added salt instead of sugar to the chai until she saw Bharat Jogra pick up his gold-rimmed tea cup and take a sip of the pink-hued chai while he continued reading on the tablet.
Ugh, even the Jogra chai is unpredictable like its maharaja.
There were several types of bread on the table. She reached for the thin, crisp flatbread and poured a generous amount of honey before taking a bite. It was delicious and got the salty taste of chai out of her mouth.
Across from her, Bharat’s breakfast plate was arranged neatly with a fragrant meat item along with fruit. He ate methodically without haste.
The efficiency irritated her more than it should have.
Without lifting his gaze from the tablet, he spoke.
“A security team has been assigned to you. A car and a helicopter will be at your disposal at all times.”
Yamini stiffened. “That won’t be necessary.”
“It is,” he replied.
She looked at him, waiting for his eyes to meet hers. They didn’t.
“I don’t need guards following me everywhere,” she said.
Bharat finally paused, set his cutlery down, and spoke in a tone that brooked no discussion. “You are my wife. You will follow royal protocol.”
Her fingers curled against the edge of the table at his command.
Before she could respond, he reached into his jacket pocket and placed a sleek black card beside her plate. “Use this for your expenses.”
She stared at it.
Embarrassment flared first. Then anger.
“I don’t need your money,” she said sharply.
His attention returned to his meal. “It’s what has been discussed in our contract.”
Her face flamed again.
She hadn’t thought the contract was real when she sat through the meeting. She hadn’t even read the whole damn thing.
Taking a deep breath, she glared at him. “And what happens if I spend it all within a day?”
He paused and then lifted his head.
For the first time that morning, his eyes met hers.
His golden-brown eyes were steady and unreadable.
“More will be added,” he said.
She had expected a warning or anger on his handsome face at her deliberate challenge. But the cold bastard sounded bored.
She hated him for that.
Before she could say something, he rose smoothly from his chair. He stood tall, nearly blocking out the sunlight, and casting her in his shadow. His gold cufflinks shone, catching the light as he adjusted them.
Her eyes fell on his hands and noticed scratch marks on his wrists and the back of his palms. Her face burned as she realized she must have scratched him at night when he made her scream thrice.
Oh God.
He didn’t notice or seem to care that the scratches were visible.
“I have meetings until midnight,” he announced, putting on a black cashmere coat that made him appear even taller and broader.
Giving her a brief, curt nod, he walked away. He strode toward the double doors, his security team materializing immediately. They fell into step behind him without a word.
Yamini watched him leave. Perfectly dressed, perfectly composed, not a single thing out of place. As though last night had happened to someone else entirely, and he had simply moved on to the next item on his schedule.
She, meanwhile, was sitting here unable to look at his damn hands.
Barely a few moments later, the distant thrum of helicopter blades filled the air outside the palace. The sound grew louder, then faded into the mountains.
Yamini remained seated.
Her gaze drifted to the black card beside her plate.
Shock, embarrassment, anger, and confusion tangled together.
Bharat Jogra had come to her room, made her scream, and left without kissing her or offering a single explanation. Now he had handed her a black card, told her to overspend, and flown away in a helicopter.
She had no idea what he wanted from the marriage. But she was determined to find out soon.