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“Are you sure Diya is happy here, beta?” she asked as I was leaving.
I tensed at the question and turned around slowly.
“I don’t know, Ma. I suppose she’s as happy as she can be, under the circumstances. It’s a huge relief that the Goels have backed away for now. She doesn’t have to worry about being attacked every time she steps out of the palace.”
“And what about you? Are you happy?”
I shrugged in reply. Just being with Diya was enough to make me happy. But I didn’t know how long this happiness would last.
The next morning, Diya climbed into my Gulfstream and looked around approvingly.
“I must say this is very nice for a fuel-guzzling behemoth,” she said, twirling around slowly before she accepted the glass of champagne offered by the cabin crew.
“You can redecorate it if you like. It’s all yours,” I replied, loving the excitement that she was trying to hide.
I showed her around the aircraft, and then we settled in our seats. It was a long flight but Diya and I discovered a mutual love of detective shows, and we binged on two seasons of The Mentalist until it was time to land.
Her booker, Caroline, met us at the airport and led us to the limo sent by Valentino. We were put up at the Four Seasons, and Diya hurried off to the spa for a long session to prep for her meeting. In the evening, we walked around the city hand-in-hand, until we found a small restaurant in the old town, Centro Storico, hidden in a street twenty minutes away from the Duomo.
We settled down at a table outside and watched the world go by as we shared a bottle of their house red, and waited for our pizza. I was worried Diya might just nibble at her food, but she attacked her pizza with gusto, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she moaned at the first bite.
“This is almost better than sex,” she said with her mouth full.
“It looks like I need to work harder,” I replied, with a laugh.
“You can try, sweetie, but this pizza might still kick your ass,” she replied, licking some sauce off her finger.
“What if I feed you pizza while I make love to you?” I murmured, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Mmm… very creative, Your Highness. I look forward to seeing your work,” she replied with a wink before she went back to her pizza.
Damn it! Was I jealous of a pizza now?
We ended the meal with a decadent tiramisu made by the nonna of the family that ran the restaurant, and even I had to admit that it was orgasmic. I totally wouldn’t blame Diya if she left me for the tiramisu.
We walked back to the hotel and I did everything I could to best that damn pizza. Three orgasms later, Diya curled into the crook of my arm and sighed happily.
“It was a good attempt, Dheer. But I’m afraid the pizza still has the edge over you,” she teased.
I groaned loudly.
“You just wait until I recover. I’ll make you eat your words,” I warned.
Diya kissed me softly in reply, turned around and promptly fell asleep. I held her for half the night, just revelling in the feel of her in my arms. Please, God, let this last, I prayed silently before I gave in to sleep.
CHAPTER 23
DIYA
Iwanted to laze around in bed the next morning, but Caroline was on me like a tick on a dog. She called me at seven am and bullied me into getting out of bed.
“You can canoodle with your husband on your own time, ducky. You can’t keep Gabriel Mancini waiting,” she scolded. “Now, get out of bed and get into a shower. And ask that handsome husband of yours to throw on some clothes. I’m coming up.”
When I got out of the shower, Caroline and Dheer were sipping coffee together, and she looked absolutely delighted with him.
“This one’s a catch,” she whispered. “Hold onto him.”
We ordered breakfast in the room, and I ate sparingly under Caroline’s critical eye while she took fresh measurements of each and every part of my body.
