Rudra Singh Rathor, CEO, has officially changed his job description to Overlord of Ishita's Wellbeing and Personal Space. 🖤

I love how he drops a multi-million-dollar technical tip and then immediately shuts down a male model without even lifting his eyes from the phone. The sheer audacity of that "important asset" line? I'm printing it on a t-shirt. This chapter isn't just about presence anymore, it's about claiming territory. Ishita is realizing she's not alone, and Rudra is realizing he can't breathe if he's not near her. Enjoy the intense stares and the cold hands! 😉🔥

🌸 Ishita Sharma's Perspective - The Shadow That Lingers

The next shoot was set in a gorgeous rooftop garden. The sun was soft, the flowers in full bloom, and I was already feeling the morning chill in my skin.

I walked onto the set, expecting the usual chaos of cameras, lights, and assistants running everywhere. But then I saw him.

Rudra. Standing at the far corner, casually observing, hands in his pockets, but eyes only on me.

I blinked. Twice. No way.

"Rudra... sir?" I whispered under my breath, glancing at Reet.

Reet smirked knowingly. "See? I told you. He's busy, but he... finds time."

I didn't dare look at him again-or did I? His gaze found mine, calm, unshakable. I felt my cheeks warm.

RUDRA SINGH RATHORE'S perspective

He hadn't planned to come to every shoot. Really, he hadn't. His schedule was insane, and he was expected at board meetings, client calls, and strategy sessions. But somehow... every morning he found himself thinking about her.

When he saw her walk in, hair tied up messily, eyes alert and bright, he couldn't let her be left alone in the middle of the controlled chaos.

He stayed at a distance at first. Just observing. But if anyone got too close, mismanaged something, or made her uncomfortable, his presence was enough to make them step back.

And maybe, just maybe, he enjoyed knowing she didn't know he was there for her specifically

🌸 Ishita Sharma

I finally took a deep breath and walked toward him during a break.

"Umm... you're here again," I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracked just slightly.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Was I supposed to miss this?" His tone was calm, but there was a sharp edge-like he didn't expect the answer to matter.

"I... I mean... I thought you were too busy. Reet said-"

"I make time for important things," he interrupted softly, but with unmistakable finality.

I froze. Important things... Did he mean me? My heart thumped so hard I thought he might hear it.

"I... uh... okay," I said, my fingers fidgeting with the strap of my camera bag. "Thanks... I guess."

He studied me for a moment, then glanced around. "Don't thank me. Just... focus on your work. And stay... careful with that platform over there."

I looked where he was pointing-the slightly unstable wooden platform-and felt a surge of gratitude. "Oh! Yeah, thanks... I didn't even notice."

His lips twitched, almost a smile. "You're welcome."

🖤 Rudra Singh Rathor

Later, as Ishita was adjusting her props, he stepped closer-careful, deliberate.

"Watch your step," he murmured, not as an order but a warning.

"I... I will," she replied softly, looking up.

"Good." His eyes softened ever so slightly. "I don't... like accidents. Especially ones that could have been avoided."

Ishita's lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the protective edge in his voice. "Rudra..." she started.

He raised a finger, almost teasing, but deadly serious. "No. Not now. Focus. Later... we talk."

She nodded, unsure why her stomach was twisting in knots.

ISHITA Sharma Perspective

The routine was no longer routine; it was a silent, thrilling expectation. Every alternate day, like clockwork, Rudra would appear. Not in the middle of the action, but always on the periphery, a dark, perfectly tailored shadow against the bright chaos of the set.

Today, we were indoors, a high-tech studio with blinding white lights. I was trying to capture the perfect reflection of a perfume bottle, and the technicalities were frustrating me.

I sighed, running a hand through my already messy bun. "Reet, I can't get the light angle right. It keeps washing out the details."

"Try moving the softbox just three inches to the left, Ishu," Reet suggested, but then her eyes flickered over my shoulder. "Or, you could ask the expert who seems to be studying your setup."

I didn't need to turn around. My entire body tensed, a familiar heat rising in my neck.

"Rudra, sir," I managed, turning to see him leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, looking more like a magazine cover than a CEO. "Is there... a problem?"

He straightened, a single step bringing him too close. His presence felt like a temperature drop-intense and magnetic.

"The problem is the light," he stated, his gaze not on me but on the setup. "Too much diffusion. The glass needs a hard line to define the curve. Don't use the softbox. Use a grid spot from the back, low power."

I blinked. He wasn't just a CEO; he was a technical expert.

I said "A grid spot... but that's not the plan for this shot."

He finally met my eyes, and the air went thin.

He said "Change the plan. You're fighting the light, not using it. Trust me."

His voice was a low command. I didn't argue. I didn't know why I didn't argue. I just called for the prop assistant. Within minutes, the new setup was ready.

Click.

The shot was perfect. Sharp, clean, dramatic.

I said "Wow," I whispered, looking from the camera screen to him. "That's... incredible. Thank you."

You have a good eye, Ishita," he said, the compliment feeling heavy and genuine. "Now you have the right tool. Use it."

He walked away then, leaving me breathless and oddly exhilarated.

🖤 Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective - Reclaiming His Space

I watched her work, the concentration etching a line between her brows that i found inexplicably endearing. I knew the shot would be better, and the feeling of giving her a piece of my knowledge-of being useful to her-was ridiculously satisfying.

My moment of peace was shattered when Rohan, the male model for the day, decided to get chatty during a break.

Rohan, too casually, put a hand on Ishita's shoulder and leaned in. "You know, Ishita, you should let me take you out after this. You need a break from all this technical stuff. I know a great little place."

Rudra's jaw tightened. The casual familiarity, the hand-it was all wrong. He didn't even think; he just moved.

He walked past them, seemingly focused on his phone, but stopped exactly two feet from them. He didn't make eye contact with Rohan, his entire focus staying on the screen, but his voice cut through the background noise.

Rudra: (To his phone, loud enough for both of them to hear) "Cancel the four o'clock meeting. Reschedule for tomorrow morning. And remind the driver that I have an important asset that needs to be protected while on set."

Rohan's hand dropped from Ishita's shoulder as if it had been burned. The model looked up, startled, catching Rudra's cold, brief stare before Rudra looked back down at his phone. The message was clear: back off.

Rudra didn't wait for a reply. He put his phone away and looked directly at Ishita, his expression softening subtly, all the ice reserved for Rohan gone.

"You need water," he stated, walking past Rohan entirely and picking up a chilled bottle from a nearby cooler.

He handed it to her. Their fingers brushed.

Her (Voice small) "Oh. Thanks."

(His gaze lingered on her face) "Don't overwork yourself. I notice your hands are cold." He didn't ask; he noticed. It was a possessive observation, a claim.

Rohan, looking distinctly uncomfortable, suddenly found an urgent need to talk to the stylist across the room.

"They're just... always a little cold," she mumbled, trying to make sense of the look in his eyes-a mix of heat and intense scrutiny.

"Then warm them up," i murmured, his thumb briefly, almost imperceptibly, stroking the back of her hand where it held the bottle. "I don't like seeing you uncomfortable."

He didn't wait for her to process the intimacy of the action. He simply walked away, leaving Ishita standing there, her hands now definitely not cold, but tingling, her stomach knotting tighter than before.

She was starting to realize that his presence wasn't about the shoot-it was about her