Page 65 of Trapped By the Maharaja

It must be his home office.

Curious, she decided to see what was inside.

???

Sanjana stood in front of the double doors. Before she could change her mind, she reached for the brass handle and pushed the doors open.

When she looked inside, her breath caught in her throat.

Ram was inside.

Still in his dark business suit, sleeves rolled to the elbow, no tie, seated at a long, polished teak desk surrounded by three assistants. One stood by a digital whiteboard, another scribbled notes, and a third had a laptop open.

Sanjana froze.

She’d seen him earlier that morning in a fresh suit after his shower. They’d had breakfast together. And then, after a while when she returned to the bedroom, she had heard the distinct sound of a helicopter had echoed beyond the gardens. She’d assumed that he’d flown off to the city for his business meetings.

All four men turned toward her.

She flushed immediately. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t realize… I thought you left for the city this morning. It’s my day off and I was just… exploring the palace.” She knew she was talking too fast and too much.

Ram’s eyes locked on hers.

Cool. Controlled. And dangerous.

“Come inside,” he said.

It wasn’t a request.

She hesitated. “It’s fine. I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“Sanjana.” His tone was firm. “Come in.”

Swallowing her embarrassment and annoyance at his tone, she stepped into the room.

At once, Ram’s assistants turned toward him, waiting for instruction. He gave a sharp nod, and they collected theirtablets, bowed their heads slightly, and filed out. The doors clicked shut behind them, trapping her in with him.

She turned slowly, taking in the room now that they were alone.

It was exactly what she’d imagined.

The room was massive, lined with towering bookshelves, antique maps, old clocks, and a single grand desk near the window. There was also a seating area with plush leather chairs. There were ancestral swords and ceremonial daggers displayed on the wall. A globe sat in the corner, beside a vintage phonograph.

But the room wasn’t entirely frozen in time. She could also see modernity.

At the far wall, there was a massive digital screen which was likely used for business meetings and video conferences. A touch-panel console rested on the desk’s edge, its minimalist design starkly contrasting the hand-carved teakwood it sat on. Discreet built-in speakers framed the ceiling, and a matte black remote was tucked beside a stack of leather-bound notebooks.

“Do you work from here often?” she murmured, wanting to cut through the tension inside the room.

“Not that often,” he replied.

She realized that some of the setup must be quite recent because she could smell the musky fragrance of the plush leather chairs that must be new.

“Until your office is set up, you’re welcome to use this space when I’m not in it,” he said.

She blinked and turned towards him. “My office?”

His eyes didn’t leave her. “You’ll be living here, so you’ll need a workspace. You can’t keep working from the bedroom sofa, even if it is comfortable enough to sleep on each night.”