When he was younger, as soon as he returned home for the holidays from his boarding school, Rohan used to rush to greet his parents wherever they were. His father always stopped what he was doing to spend a few minutes catching up. His father might be the monarch and constitutional head of Adysara, but even when he was in important meetings, he had always made time for Rohan.

  When Rohan had children, hopefully within the next five years, he wanted to be the same kind of father—making sure he had time to spend with his family. But before he could become a father, he would need to find a wife. Someone to be the future queen of Adysara. And that was the reason he’d come back from abroad. One of the reasons.

  He was thirty-five years old, and fully aware of his duty as the crown prince. Although Adysara hosted a gala week every five years, this year’s event would introduce him to eligible woman. Everyone expected him to choose a potential bride.

  Rohan had always known this was coming. It was the reason all his previous relationships had necessarily been short-term, and he’d been upfront about it.

  Now he was back home, he was ready to do his duty. He was ready to get married.

  He went to his rooms for a quick wash and change from his travel clothes into a cotton shirt with a band collar and lightweight wool suit, his usual attire when he was staying in the palace and not having meetings.

  Once he felt refreshed, he went to his study. As soon as he sat down, his assistant placed financial reports and policy briefings on his desk. After he’d read through the papers and provided notes he handed the papers over to his assistant. Moments later he could hear the papers being shredded.

  Rohan rolled his eyes. Although the palace and the island had fast, effective internet and the palace used its own secure intranet server, his father maintained the tradition of paper reports.

  It wasn’t the only tradition his father maintained. Rohan was strongly reminded of that fact when he was sitting in front of his father’s desk later that afternoon.

  They’d spent a pleasant half hour having a quick catch-up on life in general, but his father was in the middle of a busy workday and Rohan wanted to talk about his proposals for Adysara’s regeneration.

  Rohan loved the history and tradition of Adysara. It was an honour and a privilege to be a member of their royal family. He didn’t want to turn his back on it. He wasn’t coming back to Adysara with new ideas from his time abroad with the aim of shaking up centuries of tradition. He just wanted to find ways to build on what they were already doing. The country already had a good education and health system but they were constantly losing talented people to emigration because they didn’t have the business and market infrastructure to sustain prosperity. But in order for him to create financial stability, he needed his father’s formal approval to take his ideas before the government.

  It was a slow process. His father was a great believer in the phrase ‘if it’s not broken, don’t fix it.’ The problem was his father didn’t always admit when something was broken.

  Their biggest disagreement was about increasing tourism to the island. Adysara had never been a tourist spot, but its location made it a potentially attractive destination. In Rohan’s opinion it could be as popular as the Maldives which had only become a luxury holiday option within the last fifty years.

  After a long discussion and using up every ounce of his persuasive ability, Rohan was relieved when his father finally said, ‘Fine, son. Look into this regeneration scheme. I’ll expect a report from you. I’ll put it through the same scrutiny any direct proposal would get. No favours.’ He gave Rohan his special smile.

  ‘I would never ask for one. But I have your permission to ask Courthams to do some investigation work?’

  ‘Yes. We can definitely fund the early-stage work from the family finances. But there is one condition.’

  Rohan was taken aback. ‘There is?’

  ‘Yes. This gala is very important. Not only for Adysara, but for me and your mother personally. I know you will do your duty.’

  ‘Of course.’ It was, always had been and always would be duty above all. It normally went without being said. Surely that wasn’t the condition?

  No, apparently the condition was for Rohan to discuss the guest list, specifically the female guests, with his father and listen to his father’s opinions on who could be a good fit for Rohan.

  Rohan understood to be a good fit, his potential bride would need to offer something which would help with Adysara’s growth. Decades ago, one of his ancestor’s marriage to a wealthy heiress had enabled the Adysarian royal family to become self-funding—not taking a single coin from the people. Since then, the dynastic marriages had always improved the quality of life for the people of Adysara in some way. At least Rohan didn’t have the added requirement to marry someone of royal or noble lineage, although that was an added benefit. Rohan’s mother was descended from another Indian royal family, in name only of course, but she still had landed wealth which was used to improve public amenities on the island. Rohan’s sister’s husband came from a family of tech industrialists which had provided the island with an excellent communication and internet network. Rohan knew he didn’t just need to get married—his duty was to make an advantageous marriage. Without it, his country could decline even further and even lose its independence. He would never allow that to happen.

  ‘We all hope for a successful outcome from the occasion,’ his father said, once they’d gone through the top names under consideration, ‘but we would like you to enjoy yourself. It’s a time for everyone to have fun. We’re not forcing you to make any decisions. Your mother and I just hope you find happiness the way we did.’

  At a similar gala forty years ago, his mother had been one of the guests. His father thought they could be compatible together so they’d spent a few months getting to know each other before they agreed to marry. His mother hoped at this gala Rohan would immediately see a woman and fall head first in love, the way she claimed she did with his father.

  Although Rohan would never have the temerity to say it to his mother, he believed it was more likely to be lust, not love. Love wasn’t something that developed in the space of a few weeks. It grew slowly over time, with shared interests and shared values. It was laughing together, dreaming together, making plans together.

  But now, anyone could see the love his parents shared for each other, and their children. And the same was true for his sister and her husband.

  Rohan wanted the same kind of relationship with his future wife. He wanted to find someone with mutual interests, someone he could respect, someone he could talk to. Affection or love or whatever they wanted to call it could grow after marriage once they spent time together. He’d seen it happen with his family and friends. It was enough for him.

  He’d never been in love—he wasn’t convinced love existed that way. He’d experienced lust, naturally. He’d had plenty of girlfriends over the years but he was never unhappy when the affair came to an end, as it inevitably did. He was glad of it each time he saw a friend shattered over losing someone they were convinced was the love of their life, only to go through the whole rigmarole again a few months down the line. That kind of love was a romantic myth and he wanted nothing to do with it.

  Back in his suite of rooms, Rohan walked over to his windows. The view here, of the manicured grounds with topiary leading to the woods and then his private garden, was very different from his offices in Dubai or Los Angeles where he’d spent most of the past few years. But this place, Adysara, was home. He was happy to be back—for good this time.

  One thing he and his father were absolutely on the same page about was that no business, no improvements should spoil the natural beauty of the island. He didn’t want to introduce any tourism if it would entail large parts of the natural habitat being destroyed in order to build a sprawling resort. He had ideas to make sure that wouldn’t happen.

  He made a note to check whether the hoteliers he’d included on his personal guest list for the gala would be able to attend. The companies he’d invited had a reputation for eco-friendly development and sustainability. He hoped the gala events would give him an opportunity to discuss business deals; when he wasn’t charming and entertaining his potential brides.

  While the guests were staying at the palace for the gala events, Rohan planned to take his potential investors on a tour of the islands which made up Adysara. As well as its location, and the fact there was a functioning monarchy, it was his firm belief the wall paintings and rock-cut sculptures on one of the islands, actually a peninsula off the main island, could be as big a tourist attraction as the caves at Ajanta and Ellora. If he could include those on the tour, it would be a big asset.

  He buzzed his assistant. ‘Could you arrange for Mr Blake to see me when it’s convenient, please.’

  A few minutes later, his assistant came through the door, surprising Rohan. That was never a good sign.

  ‘Unfortunately, Mr Blake had to leave. A family emergency I understand,’ his assistant explained. ‘They organised a replacement immediately—she arrived yesterday.’

  Rohan’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Why is this the first I’m hearing of this?’

  ‘Mr Agrawal was handling it.’

  Rohan pressed his lips together. Technically, there was no reason for him to be informed. Govinda Agrawal was the project coordinator after all, but everyone in the palace knew of Rohan’s interest in the restoration project. He’d been instrumental in hiring Courtham Conservation Services.

  ‘Who is Mr Blake’s replacement?’

  His assistant pulled something up on his tablet. ‘Priya Sen.’

  Rohan frowned. He didn’t remember seeing Priya Sen’s name on the company website, which meant she couldn’t be a recognised expert. The murals and wall carvings were too important to leave in the hands of a junior member of staff.

  This was not good.

  ‘Where will I find this Priya Sen?’ He was heading to the door as he spoke.

  ‘I can call her to come here.’

  Rohan waved away the suggestion. ‘No need. I’ll go to find her. This can’t wait.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘PRIYA SEN!’

  ‘Yes,’ Priya replied, looking down from her ladder for the person who shouted out to her. There were too many people around for her to pinpoint the speaker. She turned back to the columns.

  ‘Come down here, please!’ the voice called out again, the tone of command contradicting the polite words. Whoever this man was, he was used to giving orders.

  ‘Hold on a sec,’ Priya called turning back to the column, only to be distracted by the collective gasp from below. They were all looking in the direction of one person.

  Even from the height she was at, she could tell the man towered above the people in the ballroom. She watched him stride across to her, making the balcony seem somehow much smaller than it was before. He approached the platform which was balancing her ladder, holding it in an obvious indication he was expecting her to come down. Every instinct screamed at Priya to stay where she was—that going down the ladder and meeting this man was going to have an irrevocable effect on her career—on her life.

  She glanced at the other people in the room. All of them had stopped what they were doing and were focused on the interaction between her and the man at the foot of the ladder.

  Gulping, she slowly began to descend, taking extra care with each step she didn’t miss her footing. With all eyes trained on her, the last thing she wanted was to fall in a heap.

  She hated being the centre of attention.

  Once she finally reached the ground, she patted down her overalls then looked up at the man waiting for her.

  And time stopped.

  He was a walking work of art; his hair was black, so black the sunlight cast a blue sheen across it, his cheekbones were sharp as if they’d been chiselled from marble, his jaw strong and stubborn, impatient. And his deep, dark brown eyes didn’t hide his annoyance.

  ‘Priya Sen,’ the man said, his voice rippling over her body.

  She blinked, still not quite believing the image of beauty before her was real.

  ‘You are Priya Sen, are you not. I hear you’ve taken over from Leo Blake.’

  ‘Priya. Yes, yes that’s my name. Priya. And I’ve replaced Leo.’ Priya hoped she’d managed a genuine-looking smile but the stretch in her cheeks suggested otherwise. ‘Oh, are you the palace coordinator? I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Mr Agrawal.’ She held out her hand. The man simply stared at it. Priya grimaced. So much for making a good impression. She immediately drew her hand back, then put both her palms together, touching her forehead with her fingers.

  The man inclined his head.

  ‘I’m not Mr Agrawal,’ he said. ‘I’m Rohan Varma.’

  ‘Varma?’ Priya tilted her head. It was the surname of the royal family. It wasn’t a unique surname so it probably wasn’t that much of a coincidence he also had the same one. But the expectant look he was giving her, put together with the deferential silence of the other people nearby who were still watching their exchange, gave her pause for thought.

  Of course she’d done an internet search of Adysara and its royal family. She’d seen pictures of them. But the truth was she didn’t have a great memory for faces and her focus had been on the heritage of the place, not the people.

  She had to admit it was possible she was standing in front of a member of the royal family of Adysara. She stood immobilised like a deer caught in the headlights. Would it be rude to ask him if he were royalty? Wasn’t it something she should be expected to know?

  ‘Yuvaraja-sahib,’ Zivah Chetty said. ‘How can I assist you?’

  Priya gulped. Zivah had addressed him as the prince, no not just the prince, the crown prince. There was now no possible doubt the man in front of her was part of the royal family. Not Mr Agrawal, the project coordinator. Not even Mr Agrawal’s manager. But the crown prince. And she’d told him to hold on.

  Was it too late for her to dip into a curtsey—no, the etiquette guide, which the team had been given before they started working, said curtseying was only necessary if she was a citizen of Adysara.

  She slowly became aware the prince and Zivah were looking at her expectantly. While her mind had been filtering thoughts about etiquette and royal families, she’d obviously missed the conversation.

  She inwardly berated herself. Being singled out by the prince wasn’t a good sign. If there was anyone she wanted to make a good impression on it would be Rohan Varma. She’d been told the crown prince took a personal interest in the conservation work. She could only hope she could salvage the situation. There was no way she would be able to convince Mac she was the right person to keep leading the project if she couldn’t impress the prince.

  She opened her mouth, but the only thing which came out was a choked sound. She took a calming breath. She couldn’t let her nerves and doubts get the better of her. Not now. This was too important for her future.

  ‘Perhaps we could talk, Ms Sen,’ the prince said.

  ‘Of course, Yuvaraja-sahib,’ Priya replied, using the same form of address Zivah had, assuming she must know the correct designation. She walked behind him as he led her out of the ballroom.

  All her colleagues had talked about how invested the prince was, but from what they said, she’d been under the impression he wasn’t on this island.

  If she thought about it, she supposed it made sense he would return well before the gala. In the few hours she’d been on the island, she’d already heard the rumour this particular event was for him to find a bride. She wasn’t sure whether she really believed that—it sounded too much like a fairy tale—but she was aware the Adysara royal family only hosted the lavish gala festivities every five years.

  The prince led her towards an empty reception room. Once inside he closed the door and turned to her. She didn’t have to be an empath to recognise the restrained anger in the tight lines of his jaw.

  She had no idea what she could have done to cause his reaction. But if he didn’t want her as project lead her professional dreams were over before they’d even got started.

  ‘What were you doing hanging lights on the pillars?’ he bit out at her. ‘I was told you’ve taken over from Leo Blake as team lead on the wall restorations. I don’t think decorating for the party is an objective of the role. If you’re going to stay here, I expect you to do your job.’

  Priya’s mouth fell open. She blinked trying to understand what he was talking about. Hanging lights?

  ‘I—I wasn’t,’ was all she could say.

  His mouth tightened, making Priya gulp. Her denial made him angrier.

  ‘You weren’t on the ladder just now.’ He quirked an eyebrow.

  ‘Yes, of course, but I—’

  ‘You weren’t hanging the lights?’

  ‘No!’ Priya closed her eyes trying to remember what had happened to the string of the lights the person had been about to attach to the pillar before she stopped him. She didn’t recall him bringing them down with him. He must have left the lights at the top of the ladder, she just hadn’t noticed.

  She supposed from the ground, it could look like she was helping with decorations rather than working. She needed to set the story straight.

  ‘I know it may have looked like I was attaching the lights, but I wasn’t.’ She held her hand up when he opened his mouth to speak. ‘I stopped someone because I needed to examine the pillar.’ It was only when she noticed the startled expression on his face that she realised by her hand gesture she’d effectively told the prince to shut up.

  Mortification didn’t begin to describe the sudden heat in her cheeks contrasting with the feeling of cold dread rushing through her body.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17