Falling in love with an American?

This story is about a modern day Indian princess, Lolita, who falls in love with, Michael Anderson, one of two Americans sent to India to help take out a terrorist group that want Lolita's Family's Throne.

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4. The Never Ending Feast



Greg was having the time of his life. A dazed look on his face, he happily
watched fifteen belly dancers, carefree and beautiful, twirl and sway across a huge stage
at the front of the banquet hall. He knew this freedom wouldn’t last forever, and he was

definitely taking advantage of the little time he had. In the chair next to him, Michael
seemed more mesmerized with food than girls. He scarfed down spoonfuls of basmati
rice with chickpea curry, all while never once looking up at the gorgeous princess Lolita.
What was wrong with him, anyways?
Meanwhile, Rajaa Ajit sat next to Michael, secretly wondering why one of them
wasn’t talking, the other one wasn’t eating, and more importantly, why his precious
Lolita kept anxiously glancing at the silent kid. He was worried about her. Lolita had
been his favorite—he knew that was bad, but it was the truth. He still loved Shefali, but
she had grown up with such a spoiled attitude, she was almost unbearable. Okay, so
maybe that was partly his fault for bribing her into behavior, but he knew that most of the
blame fell on his wife. Aishwarya. Her beauty had blinded him the moment he set eyes
on her. He didn’t see through to her heart of stone.
He thought she loved him. He thought he saw it in her eyes. Now he knew that
glint when she looked at him, that blinding sparkle . . . was all a lie. It was cold betrayal.
Somehow, almost twenty two years ago, she had known. On that glorious day he had
been chosen Raajaa, as he cast his shocked glance over to his newly wedded wife, he saw
something he had never seen before. Her smile. It was just a little too sweet, a little too
perfect., it was almost . . . satisfaction. Something to the effect of a smirk. And then, in
that flashing moment, he knew.

She had lied

The thought pained him to this day, but she was so fierce, he was afraid to divorce
her. Besides, she would find some way to swoon him into secrecy. Every long once in
a while, he wondered if she would ever try to overthrow him by, well. . .she wouldn’t.
Yes, she would. She was so creepy, who knew what sort of diabolical ways she would
think of to get rid of him. His only comfort was that he had been born a Christian. It
used to make him feel awkward as a kid, since most of the people he grew up with were
Hindu, but now he was proud. His religion gave him hope.
Every night, he would the weathered old Bible from his childhood and flip
through to a random verse—whatever God had in mind. His wife thought he was a
lunatic, but she didn’t dare make a single comment about it. Lately he had been ending
up in Psalms. He loved David’s songs, so strait and to the point. David was always so
bold, and that’s exactly how Ajit wanted to be whenever he talked to Aishwarya.
Michael had a pounding headache, and the pounding drums seemed to beat in
rhythm with his throbbing head. Despite the discomfort, he noticed how calm and put
together the king looked, and it soothed him a little. He was too shy to look at Lolita,
who sat on the raajaa’s other side, so he didn’t notice that she had been staring at him
the whole entire time. The more she looked at him, the more she noticed how adorable
he was. His dark brown eyes were bright and clear, framed by his smooth, chocolate
colored hair. His body was muscular and tall, and his smile so warm and friendly. The
way he was avoiding her seemed more fearful than disrespectful, but it still bothered her.
She had to talk to him, this was so weird.
Maybe she could tap him or something. After all, this was modern times, so no
one cared if she touched commoners—right? Whatever, she didn’t really care about
stupid royalty rules at this point. When her father wasn’t looking, she slid her arm behind

him and gave Michael a quick poke. He turned around to face her. All they did was stare
at each other, but his look was so meaningful, it was like he was speaking to her.
They broke their gaze as Father caught Lolita admiring the boy yet again. Except
this time, he was looking at her, too! What was going on here? Why was his daughter
engaging in these flirty little games? These boys were here to capture terrorists, not his
daughter’s heart! This had better not go too far, or someone was going to have to step in
and put an end to it.

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