Page 39 of Claimed By the Maharaja
Two days.
CHAPTER 8
Yamini shut the apartment door behind her and stood there for a long moment, her back pressed to the peeling wood, her heart still racing as if she’d run the entire way home.
This is absurd.
That was the only word that made sense.
She dropped her bag on the floor, kicked off her flats, and walked deeper into the small living space that doubled as her bedroom. The fan creaked overhead, pushing around warm air that smelled faintly of damp plaster and old paint.
Everything looked normal. But the last two hours had been anything but.
She let out a shaky breath.
She had gone to Bharat Jogra’s office to confront him, to demand acknowledgment, to defend herself against Tina’s accusations, and to reclaim a shred of dignity after two days of being treated as if she didn’t exist.
Instead, she had proposed marriage.
To her ex-fiancé. To the man whose wedding she had run away from five years ago.
Oh God.
She pressed her fingers to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut for a second as if that might undo her proposal.
She opened her eyes and paced the room, barefoot steps soft against the cracked tiles.
Bharat’s face replayed in her mind. He hadn’t looked angry or shocked. Just still. Too still. And then those golden-brown eyes lifted to her face, cold and unreadable.
“I accept your proposal.”
The calmly uttered words echoed again, sending a shiver down her spine.
No. He couldn’t be serious.
Because surely Bharat Jogra would not seriously agree to marry the woman who had humiliated him.
She had almost laughed at herself for even entertaining the idea.
She reached for her phone instinctively, Pooja’s name already forming in her mind. Pooja would shriek. Pooja would gasp at Yamini’s sheer audacity to propose marriage to the Jogra maharaja.
No. I can’t disturb her now.
Pooja was in Jaipur, juggling a high-profile event. Yamini didn’t want to distract her.
“This is ridiculous,” Yamini muttered aloud, staring at the blank wall. “He’s not actually considering a marriage to me.”
Her phone rang, distracting her momentarily.
She expected it to be Pooja, wanting to vent out about the wedding. But the screen lit up with an unfamiliar number.
“Hello?”
“Good evening, Your Highness,” a calm, older male voice said. “I’m Advocate Malhotra, representing the Jogra Royal House.”
Yamini’s heart leaped. “Yes?”
“I’m calling to inform you that the marriage contract has been prepared as per His Highness’s instructions. A physical copy has been dispatched to your residence and should reach you shortly.”
