Cravings (20 page)

Chapter 47

“S
anj, look, it may be for the best,” Josh said, while Sanj paced back and forth. “Jackson is her husband and will take care of it. I think he's misguided. And I think you should go home at this point. I believe it's a trap. If you and Sasha go, you may be in grave danger.”

“Oh, I'm going,” Sanj said. “It's up to Sasha as to what she wants to do. I'm so pissed right now.”

“I know, but they obviously did not want your involvement,” Josh said.

“But yet, I have the woman Everidge claims he wants for Maeve.”

“Maybe they found a substitute,” Sasha said.

“There's no substitute for you, darling,” Sanj said.

“Yeah, I've got to agree,” Josh said.

Sanj ignored that comment.

“People can disguise themselves,” Sasha said. “How tall is Jackson?”

“I don't know,” Sanj said, exasperated.

“Taller than you?”

He nodded.

“About my size?”

“He wouldn't be that stupid, would he? To dress up and pretend to be you?” Josh said.

“Now, let's calm down. We don't know what they are doing,” Sanj said. “Obviously Jen received communication from someone about this—can we look at her hotel phone record? Cell phone record?”

“I'm on it, but you know how smart and careful a woman she is,” Josh said. He walked into the kitchen to make some calls.

“Look, if this is some kind of trap, it's you he wants to lure to Trinidad,” Sanj said to Sasha. “You might want to consider staying here or going home.”

She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “I have no home, Sanj. None.”

“Stay here, then,” he said.

“I won't do that,” she replied. “I want to go with you.”

Sanj hadn't known her for very long, but he felt like he knew her well enough to know she was not going to change her mind about this. “Let's get packing, then. We need to get to Trinidad as soon as we can,” Sanj said. “It's only thirty minutes or so from here on a plane. Just as soon as Josh gets the clearance, we can go.”

Sasha rose from her chair. God, he liked to watch her move. A gazelle in a forest of rushing madness.

“I need to call Yvette to say good-bye. She was so kind to me,” she said.

“Humph,”
Sanj said. “ ‘Kind' isn't a word I'd use to describe her.”

“I've had problems with her in the past, too,” Sasha said, picking up the hotel phone. “But Paul's death seems to have affected her in a good way.”

“Is everything in order?” Sanj turned to face Josh.

“I'd say,” Josh said. “Jennifer left no trace anywhere of phone calls. Just the one with the travel agent booking her flight to Trinidad. Same travel agent Jackson uses.”

He seemed perplexed.

“What is it?”

“Well, it's occurred to me maybe they are misleading us. That Jen and Jackson are not really in Trinidad. It seems too easy,” Josh said. “Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Unless they were counting on you being . . . um . . . distracted on your little honeymoon here,” Josh said with disdain.

Sanj thought for a moment. “Could be I have been. Delightfully distracted.”

He couldn't help but grin.

Josh plopped down on the couch, a disgusted flop.

“It won't happen again,” Sanj said. “I'll try to keep my head about me.”

The room was still and quiet with the murmurs of Sasha on the phone. Then the clicking of the hotel phone being placed back in its cradle.

“That's odd,” Sasha said.

“What's that?”

“Yvette and her new husband are gone too,” she said.

“What's so odd about that?”

Sasha shrugged and sat down next to Josh. “I'm trying to remember if she said how long they'd be here. But anyway, it's odd because she never called to say good-bye.”

“Well, she is on her honeymoon,” Sanj said.

“Yes, but she and I had a lovely, very deep conversation, and she offered to help me get some training and set up a chocolate shop in France.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I don't know, really. I do know I don't want to be in the cacao fields. Having seen and experienced it is enough,” she said.

“What do you know about this Yvette?” Josh asked, settling back into the couch cushions.

“Well, she was married to Paul, who at the end of his life was wanting to divorce her and commit to me,” she said.

“Why would you trust this woman?” Josh said, sitting up. Always the inquisitor. “For that matter, what was she doing here?”

“She's always loved it here. It's not unusual for her at all. As for the trust . . . well . . . the club community is a bit more open than most,” she said. “I know a lot about her. And she knows that. I mean, she watched me with Paul on many occasions. Joined us from time to time.”

Sanj drew in a breath.

“That's the beginning, actually,” Sasha said. “But the last year or so of Paul's life . . . she did make it a living hell for us. After he told her what he wanted, she kind of freaked out.”

“What do you mean?”

“She did things like tap my phone. Once, when she knew Paul was coming to see me, she fabricated an illness. Things like that.”

“Sounds like a desperate woman,” Sanj said, looking at Josh.

“When he died . . . well, you know the story. But she was under suspicion of his murder until they found the real culprit.”

“Why did they suspect her?” Josh asked.

“I don't know. But what I do know is that Paul died owing a lot of money, gambling money to Sam,” Sasha said.

“Did she ever clear that debt?” Josh persisted.

“I'm assuming she has,” Sasha said.

“I'm going to check out her background, after I get the plane situation squared away,” Josh said. “Maybe Yvette is not the person you think she is.”

Yvette knew everything about Sanj—all because, evidently, she was a good friend of Jennifer's. Sanj felt fear creeping along his spine like an invisible snake, slithering.

Chapter 48

S
asha had finished packing and was sitting at the table in Sanj's condo when his door flew open. Josh spun around, stood, and bowed. “What in the world?” Sasha said, standing.

A gentleman, dark skinned, gray haired, dressed in an elegant uniform, stood, flanked by two huge Indian men. He was very handsome and regal.

“Your Highness,” Josh said.

Then Sasha remembered in her haze at Yvette's place she overheard an argument about Sanj being royalty. Or maybe it was his uncle? As she sorted through her memories, the man approached her. “Hello,” he said.

She smiled, offering her hand. “Pleased to meet you,” she said. “I'm Sasha.”

One sweeping glance of his eyes told her exactly what he thought of her. He did not offer his hand back, instead turning back to Josh. “Where is he?” he said with a clipped tone.

“He's packing,” Josh said.

“I really ought to fire you,” the man said. “You allow him to put himself in danger?”

Josh looked as if he had been slapped in the face. “I am protecting him,” he replied.

Sasha had seen men like this. Of course, she had seen them mostly with their clothes off, groveling for a beating or an ass fucking. So she was not intimidated by him. But she didn't want to make trouble for Sanj, so she stood quietly and observed.

“What is this?” the man said, showing him a newspaper.

Josh looked at it. “Yes, ah, that's true,” he said. “Emma was killed. And the man Sam Everidge escaped.”

“There,” he pointed. “The next king of our province is displayed in a photo concerning a murder and a kidnapping. What were you thinking?”

“Sir, I—”

“I had to bring the jet and half of my security force here myself. God knows you can't trust the media and I couldn't get any information from anybody,” he said. “Where is he?”

“Uncle?” Sanj said, walking into the room. “What are you doing here?” For a moment he looked like he was about twelve, not a man in his thirties.

“I came to bring you home where you belong,” his uncle said.

“Uncle—”

“Boy! You are not simply my nephew who I love very much.” The man softened a bit. “But you are also next in line to our throne. I can't allow anything to happen to you.”

Sasha held her breath. Sanj—next in line for a throne? What throne? She knew places like India had many kings and royal families. Sometimes it was in name only, at this point in India's history.

“Uncle, can I get you some tea?” Sanj asked.

His uncle nodded. “Yes, you may, thank you.”

Sasha started to leave the room. “Wait, please, Sasha,” Sanj said. “I'd like for you to join us. Please meet my uncle, the Maharaja Chandan.”

He turned to face her and nodded, but did not hold his hand out. “Sasha,” he said after a few minutes. “I understand you have been keeping company with our prince.”

“Yes,” she replied, trying to maintain her composure.

“Please sit,” Sanj said, then turned to the kitchen, where he began running water for the tea.

“Why don't you let the servants take care of it?” Chandan said.

“I have no servants here, Uncle,” Sanj said. “You know I don't travel with servants. Nobody here knows who I am. I can manage to make tea.”

He sat down at the table, next to Josh, who was already seated, grinning from ear to ear, looking from Sasha to Sanj to Chandan.

Sasha sat next to Chandan.

“You always were a rebel,” the man said and rolled his eyes.

Josh laughed. “Yes, that's our Sanj, all right. Doctor. Chef. Prince. And rebel.”

“Tell me, dear,” the man said, leaning toward Sasha. “Are you shocked to find out that Sanj is a prince?”

“It takes more than that to shock me, sir,” she said.

He chortled. “But you're correct in assuming I didn't know.”

She didn't want to look at Sanj or she'd certainly throttle him. Of course it all made sense now. “You are quite lovely,” he said, after a moment.

“Thank you,” she said.

Sanj placed the kettle on the stove.

“How did you find out about this?” Sanj asked.

“I have my ways,” he said in a singsong voice.

Sasha looked at his guards, standing completely still, yet watchful.

“It was Jennifer, I'm sure,” Josh said.

Sanj placed a plate of cookies on the table.

“You never liked her,” Chandan said, accusatory.

“And you did?”

“I found her . . . charming,” he replied. “Just not right for Sanj.” He looked at Sasha. “I don't think you are either,” he said, as if he were the bearer of bad news.

The room quieted for a moment.

She laughed, finally.
Sanj was royal.
“You may be right.”

He seemed a bit taken aback, sitting back in his chair as he regarded her. “If you think so, what are you doing here?” he asked.

“Uncle, please do not question my friend like she is a criminal,” Sanj said and poured the tea.

“I like Sanj,” she said. “Don't misunderstand me. But we've only recently met. And we've been busy trying to find our friend. I am not in the market for a husband, sir.”

“Well,” he said after a moment, sitting back and relaxing a moment. “What are you in the market for?”

“Uncle!” Sanj said, chiding, and sat down. “How was your flight?”

Sasha smiled at Sanj. What
was
she in the market for? She had no idea. But as she observed the three men at the table, it all sort of came together. Sanj was a prince—no wonder the lavish places he stayed and means of travel. She'd known a few princes—and even a king or two. She thought about Jennifer and reasoned this was the complication that had broken the two of them up. Jennifer. Sasha's attention began to wander off as she looked out the window. Then focus was brought back as Sanj raised his voice.

“Uncle! We need to get to Trinidad. Please let me explain,” Sanj said.

“I'm sorry, Sanj,” Sasha said, standing up. “I really need to get back to my condo. I'm feeling very tired.”

He walked her to the door. “See you later?” he whispered.

“If you can manage,” she said and smiled her practiced smile. Inside, she was already saying good-bye to dear, sweet Sanj. The prince.

Chapter 49

“W
hat do you think you're doing, my boy?”

“Uncle—”

“Wasn't the heartbreak with Jennifer enough for you?” Chandan leaned closer to him.

“I've been trying to warn him off her. But he's gone,” Josh said.

“Gone?” His brows knitted.

Sanj looked away. His stomach twisted. Why did he let the old man get to him like this? Sanj was a grown man. It was not the old days—his family could not force him to marry or do anything anymore. Still, he felt a sense of obligation to his uncle, his mother's brother, who had no sons. His sense of obligation even went deeper than to his uncle—it was to his dear, dead mother, and to his country, his province. Ramsha and its people. He loved it—and it was a part of him.

“You need to stop toying with these Western women,” Chandan said. “It leads to no good. Find a good Indian woman.”

Sanj grimaced. He'd been involved with many stunning and intelligent Indian women. But they did not see him clearly. To them he was the next Maharaj. The relationships were skewed. They would never stand up to him like Jennifer or Sasha had done. How could you live your life with a person who never disagreed with you? It was absurd.

“I don't want to discuss my personal life with you. I like Sasha,” Sanj said. “But in the meantime, Maeve is in grave danger. We need to go to her.”

“And do what?” Chandan said. “This man who has her. What does he want? Money?”

Sanj shifted in his seat.

“He wants Sasha,” Josh said, with a smirk.

“Aha,” Chandan said. “Now we are getting somewhere.”

Sanj doubted it. This is where he had been for weeks. It was an untenable position. Looking for Maeve. Trying to keep Sasha safe. Nothing moved forward. In fact, it was getting worse. He feared Maeve was already dead. His uncle could be quite effective in India. But here? Nobody knew who he was. Nobody would listen—that is, even if he had the disposition to help.

Josh recounted the whole story to Chandan, who sat and listened carefully, drinking his tea, the way Sanj had seen him drink it a million times before. But it had been a while. His uncle was aging. His cup trembled a bit as he brought his tea to his lips. His hair was almost pure white. Sanj loved the old man. He didn't want to cause him grief. Chandan had enough of that to last ten lifetimes.

“Unbelievable story,” he finally said.

 

Later, after his uncle was settled in his suite, Sanj visited Sasha—much to the dismay of the security team, who gave him fifteen minutes.

When she came to the door, she was dressed in her nightclothes and looked rumpled, sexy, as if she'd been thoroughly fucked. She reached for him, pressed herself into him. She was warm and soft and wrapped herself around him like her body had found its place. And it had. But he didn't know what to do with that.

“Sasha,” he said, after a long kiss. “My uncle is staying with me, so—

“No hanky-panky tonight,” she said, grinning. “Too bad.”

“Hanky-panky?” he said and laughed. “He sent you a gift.”

“Really?” she said, pulling away from him, leading him to the couch. “I didn't think he cared for me.”

“You're wrong about that,” Sanj said. “It's just he cares greatly for me.”

“Ah,” she said, flopping down on the couch, her breasts jiggling under her silky nightdress. “Yes, his prince.”

“Sorry I didn't tell you,” he said, looking sheepish, and handed her a small box.

“I totally understand,” Sasha said.

“You do?”

“I'm sure it's not something you go around and just blurt out.”

Sanj nodded.

“But then again,” she said, holding the box, looking it over. “You and I have spent quality time together, shall we say. I have to admit I'm a bit perplexed.”

Sanj bit his lip. “I planned to tell you after all this is over. After we find Maeve and get her back to Jackson, to us. “

“I see,” she said.

“Open it,” Sanj said.

When she opened the box, her eyes lit. “Oh Sanj, they are magnificent.”

“Of course,” he grinned. “They are from the Maharaj of Ramsha. He is known for his fine taste in jewels—and in women.”

She held up the diamond earrings, glimmering in the soft light of the room. She slipped them in her ears.

“Exquisite,” Sanj said. “Both you and the diamonds. You need more diamonds.”

She laughed. “I think we can agree on that. But Sanj, I am confused. Why?”

He cleared his throat. “My Uncle Chandan is a gentlemen. He was afraid he offended you.”

“That's very sweet. But you know I'm not easily offended,” she said. “Life is too short.”

“One more thing,” he said. “We told him everything.”

“Everything?”

The diamonds caught the flecks of golden brown in her eyes. He wanted to kiss her again. He pulled her into him.

He nodded.

“Well, sorry, Sanj, that confuses me even more,” she said.

“My family has a long history in Ramsha, of course. You know Ramsha is the center of sacred energy for a branch of our religion.”

“Ah, yes, tantric yoga.”

“One of my great-grandmothers was a . . . how do you say . . . sacred prostitute,” Sanj said.

“Really?” Sasha said after a few minutes. “Fascinating.”

“So my uncle is not a judgmental man when it comes to sex workers. He believes they serve an important function in the world.”

“Wow,” Sasha said. “
Now
I'm shocked. I don't know what else to say.”

“Don't say anything,” Sanj said. “Just kiss me.”