Rich People Problems-Kwan 2017 (WWT)

coffee?”
Astrid smiled placidly. “Actually, I’m sure their coffee is great, but I brought these
beans. I know how much you love your first cup, so I had them ground for you this
morning. It’s Ethiopian Yirgacheffe from Verve Coffee in LA.”
Charlie gazed at her in appreciation. “That’s it. I’m kidnapping you and not letting you
go back to Singapore. I’m never going to let you leave my side for…well, the rest of
eternity.”
“Kidnap me all you want, but you’ll have to contend with my family. I’m sure my dad
will send out a SWAT team if I don’t turn up for breakfast at Nassim Road on Monday
morning.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back in time, and you can even show up with a big tray of
these parathas for breakfast,” Charlie said, taking a bite out of the buttery, still-warm
Indian layered bread.
Astrid giggled. “No, no, it has to be something Malay, otherwise they’ll suspect. It feels
like I’m playing hooky, but I’m so glad you convinced me to do this—I really needed it.”
“You’ve been spending so much time at your grandmother’s bedside, dealing with the
family circus, I thought you could use a break.” Charlie perched on the balcony’s edge,
looking down at an ornately turbaned man sitting on a pile of pillows in the middle of the
grand terrace, playing a soft melody on his bansuri while a flock of peacocks wandered
behind him on the great lawn. “Astrid, you need to come check this out. There’s a flute
player on the terrace, surrounded by peacocks.”
“I saw him. He’s been out there all morning. It’s absolute heaven here, isn’t it?” Astrid
closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the enchanting melody as she savored the
warmth of the sun on her face.
“Well, just wait. We haven’t even toured the city yet,” Charlie said with a sly gleam in
his eyes.
Astrid smiled to herself, enjoying his impish little-boy expression. What was Charlie up
to? He looked just like Cassian did whenever he was trying to hide a secret.
After they had enjoyed a classic Indian breakfast of akuri-spiced scrambled eggs on
laccha paratha, chicken samosas, and fresh mango pudding on their private balcony,
Charlie and Astrid walked to the front entrance to the palace. As they waited for the
maharaja’s Rolls-Royce Phantom II to pull up to the front steps, the guards started
showering compliments on Astrid. “Ma’am, we’ve never seen anyone look so beautiful in
jodhpurs,” they praised. Astrid smiled bashfully—she was wearing a white linen tunic
tucked into the new pair of white jodhpurs that had just been tailored for her. But instead
of a belt, she had wound a long hand-beaded Scott Diffrient turquoise necklace through
the belt loops.
They were driven in the vintage convertible to the Mehrangarh Fort, an imposing red
sandstone fortress perched on a dramatic cliff four hundred feet above the skyline of
Jodhpur. At the foot of the hill, they transferred into a small jeep that sped them up the
steep road to the main entrance, a beautiful arched gateway flanked by ancient frescos