Page 73 of Trapped By the Maharaja

The elderly housekeeper and several members of the palace staff were bustling around Suchitra Devi, their voices warm and eager.

“Rajmata, the chef prepared the masoor dal just the way you like,” the cook said, placing a silver bowl in front of her.

“We’ve aired your private quarters in the east wing, Ma’am,” the housekeeper added quickly. “Fresh jasmine garlands have been placed in your room, as you prefer.”

Another staff member leaned in. “Shall I have the footman bring your evening shawl? There’s a slight chill tonight.”

Suchitra Devi gave a small nod here, a gentle shake of her head there, her composure unshaken as the fuss continued.

It struck Sanjana that the way the staff hovered, not just serving her, but cherishing her, the way family might cherish someone beloved after a long absence.

One by one, they finally withdrew, the elderly housekeeper offering a last warm smile to Suchitra Devi. “We are so glad to have you home, Maharani. I hope you enjoy dinner.”

Once the room emptied, the vast space seemed even larger and quieter.

Suchitra Devi’s gaze swept over Sanjana. Her eyes lingered on Sanjana’s bare neck, then her ears.

It took Sanjana a beat to realize the problem. She was wearing the blue silk dress. But after the encounter with Ram, the delicate silk was crushed in certain places. And also in her rush to escape the bedroom, she had put on the dress but had forgotten to wear jewelry entirely. Across from her, Suchitra Devi wore a perfectly matched set of understated, antique, and priceless pearls.

It wasn’t intentional, but Sanjana hoped it would help convince how unsuitable she was to be the Devara Maharani.

“How are you adjusting to life here at the Devara Palace?” Suchitra Devi’s voice was even, polite.

Sanjana folded her hands neatly in her lap. “I haven’t had much chance to explore, Your Highness. The hospital keeps me busy.”

A subtle flicker passed through the Queen’s expression. Not quite a frown, but enough for Sanjana to notice the slight tightening around the eyes.

“I’ve been informed,” Suchitra Devi said, “that the hospital is now under the Devara Trust. And that significant changes are underway.”

“Yes,” Sanjana replied, keeping her tone even.

There was a pause before Suchitra Devi asked, “Has Ram made you aware of the guests attending tomorrow evening’s event?”

Sanjana’s mind flashed to Ram’s hands on her, his mouth claiming hers in the office and then the closet earlier. There were no discussions. Just heat and passion.

“No,” she admitted, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. “We haven’t discussed it.”

She didn’t add that she hadn’t wanted to discuss it, because in her mind, she wouldn’t still be his wife by tomorrow night.

Taking a deep breath, Sanjana spoke. “Your Highness… there’s something important I’d like to discuss with you before the announcement tomorrow night.”

Suchitra Devi was silent, her dark eyes fixed on Sanjana in a way that made her pulse beat faster.

The words crowded in her throat.This marriage is a mistake. Help me end it before the announcement.

Just as she opened her mouth, the heavy doors of the dining hall swung open.

Sanjana’s words died on her tongue.

Ram entered. The air shifted the instant he stepped inside. Dressed in a charcoal suit, he looked devastatingly composed, as if he hadn’t just cornered her in a closet and made her scream in passion.

Sanjana’s face burned at the memories, and she avoided looking at him directly.

With long and commanding steps, he walked to the head of the table. He inclined his head to his mother. “Amma.”

“Ram.” Suchitra Devi’s voice carried the same measured poise as her posture. But Sanjana saw the slightest softening in the eyes.

Ram seated himself between them, his presence effectively placing a physical and unspoken barrier.