Page 48 of A Royal Deception

“How exactly are we supposed to get to know each other better if we don’t spend time together?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

It was true. In the short time that we had been downstairs today, I could feel everyone’s eyes on us, as if they were watching our every move. And I knew it was only going to get worse, which was natural. His Highness had married a complete stranger. His family and friends were bound to be curious about me. And they were also going to be curious about… us. As a couple.

I felt a wave of heat rush over me at the idea of being half of a couple when the other half was this magnificent man. This was beyond my wildest dreams, and I needed time to come to terms with the fact that, temporary though it might be, I was married to a Maharaja. I was a Maharani. Fuck!

I rolled over out of his arms as if stung and buried my head in my pillow as I tried not to hyperventilate.

“What’s wrong?” asked His Highness worriedly.

“I can’t do this,” I said softly, panting into the pillow.

“That’s why we’re taking it slow, Shivina,” he replied. “I’m not touching you until you’re comfortable with the idea of making love to me.”

I turned around and glared at him.

“Umm, considering the way I was plastered against you not two minutes ago, I don’t know how much comfortable I can get, Your Highness. But I don’t mean that. I’m sorry, but I just don’t think I can be your Maharani. I don’t know what I was thinking,” I said, sitting up and grabbing my scrunchie off the bedside table before I rolled my hair up into an untidy bun.

“What do you mean?” asked His Highness, sounding slightly distracted.

He was propped up against the headboard, his arms crossed over his distractingly muscular chest, and he was staring fixedly at my bun.

There was not an ounce of fat on this man, I realised as my eyes dipped from his chest to his flat abdomen. It was so unfair! In comparison, I felt so fat! I pulled the covers over myself immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing! I just don’t think I’m the kind of woman you’d usually go for, Your Highness,” I said bitterly.

“What? Why not?”

He sounded confused, which would have been funny if I wasn’t feeling miserable.

“Because you’re… well, you’re you… a supremely attractive billionaire royal,” I said, waving a hand in his direction. “And I’m… I’m just a fat little commoner. I don’t deserve to be a Maharani.”

“Stop that,” he said sharply.

He ran a hand over his face wearily and groaned.

“There is so much to unpack in that statement, but I’m going to try. First of all, you will never call yourself fat. Is that clear?”

I sniffed in response because it was easy for him to say that. He wasn’t the one who needed to lose ten kilos.

“Is that clear?” he repeated sternly.

I nodded once without looking at him.

“And secondly, my title is just that. A meaningless relic of the past. It only means that my ancestors were privileged in a country full of unprivileged people by an accident of birth. That isn’t something to be proud of. If it were, India would have held on to our kings and princely states. But we were booted out as soon as our country became independent, and now everyone is equal. Shivina, over the next few days, you’re going to meet a lot of people who will try and make you feel like the dirt beneath their shoes because you had the audacity to trick a Maharaja into marriage. The only way you can fight them is to remember that they are no better than you. Being wealthy does not make someone better or more important. Find a way to drill that into your brain, or you’ll struggle to survive in our ruthless world.”

Huh. That was a new perspective. But it did nothing to boost my self-esteem as far as my body was concerned. Thankfully, His Highness wasn’t done.

“And that body isnotfat. That body is gloriously curvy. That is the body of a sex goddess,” he said, waving a hand over my body just like I’d done to his.

I rolled my eyes so hard I was sure they’d get stuck to the back of my head.

“Stop it,” I muttered.

“You started it!” he muttered back, just as my hair came crashing down from its bun.

“Now look what you’ve done,” I cried as I grabbed it and started over on the bun.

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