Except, this time she runs right into the arms of the man she’s dreamed about for years - okay, fantasised about, to be completely honest.
His Highness Yashvardhan Rathore, Yuvarajkumar of Bannor, is so going to burn in hell.
Not only did he help his dead friend’s sister run away from her wedding mandap, he now has terribly inappropriate feelings for her.
All his life he’s lived by one truth - no one has ever loved him enough to stay. And he doesn’t think a known flight risk like Ananya will be the first.
As her restless feet get calmer, the walls around his heart get higher.
Will Yash ever come to trust in love?
And will Ananya let her reluctant Prince Charming claim a runaway bride?
To find out read the third book in the Devgarh Royal series.
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I braced myself for the explosion that was sure to follow once Ananya caught sight of my plane. She got out of the vehicle and stared around her in confusion.
“Where’s your aircraft?”
I pointed to the plane in question.
“That one, right there.”
She took one look at it and rolled her eyes.
“Oh, please! That rust bucket is not a jet,” she pointed out.
“I’m going to ignore the slur on my beautiful plane, and just point out that I never said I had a private jet. I said ‘plane’, and you assumed it was a jet. That’s not my fault.”
“Yashvardhan Rathore, do you seriously expect me to believe that you fly all over the world in that little tinpot? It looks like it will fall apart if you sneeze too loudly!”
“First of all, my plane is a she, not it. Secondly, can you please stop calling her names? She’s very sensitive,” I snapped.
“Fine! But she looks like she’s made of Lego and is held together with duct tape, and if you think I’m risking my neck in that toy plane, you’re crazier than I thought,” Ananya snapped back.
“Stop calling her names! She’s not a tinpot or a rust bucket. She’s a piece of art!”
She was. My Cessna 162 was in mint condition, with nary a scratch or dent. I couldn’t see why Ananya was calling her such nasty names.
She stomped up to the plane and walked around her slowly.
“Umm, Yash… There are only two seats.”
I sighed. I knew this was going to be a problem.
“I know.”
“Where do you propose to stow me? In the cargo hold?”
“That’s very tempting right now, but you will sit next to me.”
“And where will the pilot sit?”
“In the pilot’s lounge, back there,” I said, pointing to the building that we had just exited.
Ananya stared at me, denial and fear clouding her big brown eyes. A man could drown in those expressive eyes, I thought. Not right now, though. Any attempt to dive into those beauties would burn me to a crisp because her glare was hot enough to set me on fire.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Your Highness. If the pilot sits in the lounge, who’s going to fly the bloody plane?” she asked through gritted teeth.
It was so much fun to mess with her. I wondered if she’d spit at me when she found out.
“That would be me.”
“What?”
“I’m going to fly the plane,” I clarified, and she turned white.”
Alisha Kay writes funny, exciting and steamy stories, with spunky heroines who can rescue themselves, and hot, woke heroes who find such independence irresistible.
The first book in The Devgarh Royals series, The Maharaja’s Fake Fiancée, won the grand prize at the Amazon KDP Pen to Publish Contest 2020.
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