Page 135 of A King's Oath

“Hmm?” He looked up from his slice, now only crust. Avantika chortled, reaching forward to wipe the sauce stuck at the corner of his lip — “How hungry are you?”

“Famished. I usually down three bananas, a seasonal fruit smoothie and one hot snack after a match.”

“Your chef will be missing you.”

“I am not missing him though,” he held up another slice of the pizza and lowered it into his waiting open mouth. She loved that sight. The boy. Her boy from Saraswati Crest.

“I’m calling for a pasta… bringoli? Or pappa al pomodoro?” She asked, reading from the ‘Day Specials’ chalk menu on the board at the entrance.

“I’ll eat anything. Italian food is good everywhere in Italy.”

Avantika looked at the hungry stud and ordered both. Plus a side salad.

As she had predicted, all three dishes were polished off in no time and Mr. I-bring-my-Chef-along ordered dessert too. Two of them — Baldino, which was a moist, gooey cake with decadent chocolate glaze, plus a mini raspberry-apple pie because he wanted her to see thecolour.

Stuffed and exhausted, they held onto each other as they trudged their way to their hotel. His team and staff were staying at Villa a Sesta, which meant no familiar faces in the streets of Arezzo or the hotel district.

“Samarth?” She asked as he IDed her keycard and pushed her door open.

“Hmm?”

“Are we going to announce to everybody that we are together?”

“That’s the predecessor to getting married,” he snarked, pushing her into the room and following her with her shopping bags. “If you wish, we can do the arranged marriage thing too. Papa has been jumping out of his shoes for me to hint at it. I’ll just say I am impressed by the Kumari of Gwalior and he will be at your doorstep with nariyal and sawa rupya.”

“After the anti-marriage songs I have sung to my parents, my mother will never swallow that I said yes to some arranged marriage rishta,” she fell back on the bed, sweaty clothes and all.He fell over her, making her scream until the last moment when he landed on his palms on either side of her head.

“Samarth!” She whacked his shoulder.

“Somearranged marriage rishta?”

She nodded, giving him her best nose-squeeze. His smile was so adoring, his eyes softening until nothing but two rivers remained, flowing out of those deep pits. He reached down and pecked the edge of her eyebrow, then her eyelid which dropped of its own accord.

“How about we live some first?” He asked.

“Yes!” She slapped her hands over his shoulders. “I was about to say this! Let’s have a sordid, secret affair!”

His body rumbled — “I didn’t mean that. I meant let this year pass. Papa is going to Antarctica in February. Let him finish that. Or he will cancel it and rush us to the mandap.”

“Sordid, secret affair it is!” She pulled him down for a tight squeeze, and his throaty laugh reverberated into her skin, his mouth pressing into her hair. Then, just as her legs began to open to settle him in, he pushed back and jumped to his feet.

“Where?”

“To shower.”

“You can go later…” she tried to nudge him back with her toe.

He laughed, dodging away — “I don’t trust your intentions with me, Kumari.”

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good, neither are my intentions,” she leered at him. He gave her a show, reaching down to pull his polo shirt off. Her mouth ran dry. He was… so good. There weren’t abs-abs but faint lines hinting at them. Hischest and torso were lightly roughened with hair, dipping down to the waist of his white breeches that sat snug just under this navel.

“I feel violated now,” his hands went to his belt.

“Because you have a Havasi Kumari right here.”

He guffawed, unbuckling the belt and pulling it off.

“Come back…” she altered her tone, trying to sound sultry and royally butchering it. “Samarth!” She yelled when that didn’t work. “Samarth!” She mock-cried when he still didn’t relent, winding his belt and setting it on her bedside table.

---