Page 220 of No Boss
‘Remain calm. Remain elegant. Do not accidentally agree to produce royal heirs during the first conversation.’
Rajveer’s eyes darkened for the briefest moment. Gone before anyone else could catch it.
“I’m honoured, Your Highness.” Her voice came out completely, absolutely composed.
“You should visit the royal textile archives sometime.”
‘The what.’
“There are collections there you may appreciate.”
Naina’s pulse lost all organisational structure.
‘The royal archives. He is inviting me into the royal archives. I need divine supervision immediately.’
“That would be incredible.”
He drew a slow breath, control intact, though his attention remained on her face longer than required. “You may call me Rajveer.”
Naina’s eyes widened a little.
‘How about Raj?’
Rajveer’s ear turned faintly pink. He cleared his throat once.
“I think Your Highness suits you better,” she replied before common sense could kick in. “That way I remember I’m speaking to an actual prince.”
Abhinav looked between them. Then very wisely looked away before he embarrassed himself by laughing publicly at his sister’s expression.
Rajveer turned toward the refreshments area, composure restored. “Would you join me for some snacks while we leave the stage for the newlyweds?”
‘Would I join the Crown Prince of Mewar for snacks? No. I will simply pass away where I stand.’
“Yes, Your Highness.”
They stepped down together.
Her expression remained calm. Inside her head, absolute catastrophe unfolded.
‘Why are his shoulders this broad? Why is he matching my walking pace? Why does he smell this good? Focus on textiles,Naina. Fabrics. Embroidery. Economic growth. Stop noticing the prince.’
Beside her, Rajveer walked in silence.
Only once did his attention shift toward her. Only once did something dangerous pass through his expression before he looked ahead again.
Amar Singh followed behind, fully aware of how complicated the future had just become.
Chapter 41
By the time the reception ended, Anand Mahal had begun to sink into the softness that follows a wedding. Music faded. Guests drifted away with sleeping children and half-finished conversations about who had cried most during the Phere.
The Haveli itself seemed exhausted. Happily exhausted.
Abhinav and Meera were led toward their rooms, Sarita and the women trailing behind. Naina walked ahead with a silver tray, glancing back with interest.
“They’re doing it again,” she announced.
“Doing what?” someone asked.
