Rita, however, was new to all of it. And yet she handled it with open warmth that only added to her charm.
“I’m from California,” she answered one, before adding, “in the US.”
And when she was asked the follow-up question of, “But where’s your familyreallyfrom?” Jag was impressed by the diplomacy with which she answered.
“If you mean ancestrally,” she said, “my grandparents immigrated to the United States from Bangladesh. My father was born in the US, as was I, but my mother is Bengali.”
Enraptured, the reporter said, “Now that you are Princess, do you feel that you’re going to bring greater visibility to the large South Asian population living here in Hayat?” and belatedly Jag realized that he and Rita had spent very little time discussing the history, politics and realities of Hayat.
But Rita did not need his help.
“Of course,” she said. “It is an honor to be a woman of South Asian descent and to bring representation of South Asians to a higher level here in Hayat. As an American, I have a lot to learn about the complex history and people of Hayat, but for now, I’m just glad that my presence brings greater visibility to such an important national demographic.”
The woman took his breath away. How was it that he had only known her for a matter of weeks, when she stood by his side as if she had been training for the role? She was so much more than the perfectly imperfect sensation of a bride that he had thought he found in a Northern California garage. Over and over she had proved to him that she was not a ruse, with each new facet he encountered more evidence that she was, in fact, actually perfect.
Had their announcement been authentic, had she been the love that swept him away in every sense of the world, at this moment, Jag would have been the proudest man on earth.
Even still, he knew there was no better choice in all of the world.
And that was a real shame, because for all of her perfection, his union with Rita was temporary.
She was not his wife. She was not his queen.
Their paths would separate in the near future—must separate—and when they did, there would be no one who could ever stand a chance of replacing her.
Stepping closer in a show of their affection and unity, as well as to savor the nearness that was as close as he could get, Jag cultivated a mischievous twinkle in his eye and said, “You must all forgive me. My darling wife swept me away in such a whirlwind that it has been all I could do to keep her to myself up to now. Our unexpected romance coinciding with this exhibition has given me little time to introduce my bride to the complexities of Hayati history. But with a mind like hers, I am sure it will only be a matter of time before she becomes a better national representative than even I.”
They chuckled in response to his words, and he led Rita away, directing them toward the small group of men that made up the full list of people he trusted in the world.
If she was not his forever, she was at least his for now, and if it had been real, this would have been a moment he eagerly anticipated.
He watched his friends as their gazes landed on Rita, more eager and proud to introduce them to his bride than he should have been.
In a way, it had been them who had brought the two of them together—and their long-ago pact.
Zeus smiled first, eyes alighting with masculine delight on Rita. “You must be the bride we’ve heard so much about,” he said. “I begin to see what has blown our friend in such a wildly new direction.”
Smiling, Rita offered her hand. “The blowing is mutual, I assure you. I certainly never expected to end up here.”
At Zeus’s side, Vin choked, quickly taking a sip from the champagne flute he held.
Catching his eye over Rita’s head briefly, Zeus replied to her, “Probably not as mutual as Jag would like.”
And Vin quickly came in with, “What Zeus means is that no man is truly prepared for the moment that a transformative woman enters his life and changes everything he ever imagined for himself.”
At this, Rita narrowed her eyes, though Jag was grateful for his friend’s smooth cover.
Tilting her head to the side, still eyeing them closely, she asked, “You must be the ‘few men I call friends’ that I keep hearing about?” pitching her voice as she mimicked Jag.
All of the air fled from Jag, not for fear their conversation would be overheard—her words were easy enough to explain away—but at her directness. Of course, Rita wouldn’t beat around the bush with the men he had told her she did not need to.
With a small chuckle, Rafael spoke up finally. “We are, indeed.”
Looking from man to man before settling her gaze on Zeus, one of her eyebrows lifted, she said saucily, “Well then, isn’t it just so nice to be in company where we can speak freely.”
A bolt of pride jolted through Jag at her, as she showed no signs of being intimidated by these men who controlled nations. Not many dared to meet them head-on.
Laughing openly, Zeus agreed. “It is, indeed, Princess. And, speaking freely, I can say that it is truly a delight to make your acquaintance. I have no doubt, you will drive our friend Jag here to absolute distraction.”