### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective**

The lecture was dragging. I was scribbling notes half-heartedly, my mind already tired from back-to-back practicals. I glanced at my phone during the break, just to check the time-

and there it was.

A message.

**Rudra Singh Rathor**: *Where are you?*

I smiled instantly, my fingers typing out before I could even think-

**Me**: *College. Last lecture now.*

There was a pause... just a few seconds. Then the screen lit up again.

**Him**: *What time does it end?*

I replied: *Probably around 4:30.*

And then-

**Him**: *Okay. I'll come pick you. Don't go anywhere.*

My smile faded just slightly. I knew how crazy his day usually is, meetings stacked one after another like bricks, barely time to breathe.

**Me**: *It's okay, really. You have meetings, right? No need. I'll take a cab or metro.*

And that's when his reply came in-

short. Stern. Classic Rudra.

**Him**: *I'm not asking. I'm telling you. Okay?*

I bit my lower lip, my cheeks warming. His care always came like this-wrapped in command, hidden beneath rough words, but the emotion... always so loud.

**Me**: *Fine.*

(But deep down, I was grinning like a fool.)

I looked over to my friend sitting beside me, who was scrolling through her phone, clueless to the storm of butterflies in my stomach.

"Why are you smiling like that?" she asked.

"Nothing," I whispered, trying to act normal. But inside, Rudra Singh Rathor's one message had just made my boring, sleepy college day feel like the *most special* one ever.

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective**

I was mid-way through checking a new contract when I realized-

I hadn't heard from her since morning.

One message.

*Where are you?*

Her reply came fast. *College.*

I leaned back in my chair, loosening the first two buttons of my shirt as I stared at the screen. The urge to see her had been... building. I told myself she's busy, she's in her world, I'm in mine.

But this wasn't about logic. Not anymore.

*What time does it end?*

When she said *4:30*, I knew right then-I was going.

Doesn't matter what my schedule says. Doesn't matter what Laksh (my poor manager) thinks of another postponed meeting.

So when she started doing that "It's okay" talk again, trying to be considerate-

I had to shut it down.

*I'm not asking. I'm telling you. Okay?*

That girl-

doesn't even realize what she's done to me.

There was a time I never texted anyone unless it was about profit margins.

Now I'm checking her lecture timings?

I tossed the file on the desk, stood up, and rolled my sleeves.

Laksh peeked in just then.

"Sir, the 5 PM investors-"

"Cancel it. Reschedule. I have... somewhere important to be."

He blinked like I'd just announced I was going to join a yoga retreat.

But I didn't wait.

As I headed out, I glanced at my phone again.

**Me**: *Stay right outside your college gate. I'll be there before time.*

This wasn't about being a chauffeur.

This was about *her*.

She had no idea how much her voice... her presence... steadied something inside me I never thought needed claming

### **[Ishita Sharma's Perspective]**

The bell rang. Finally.

I grabbed my tote bag, adjusting my baggy jeans and crop top. Long ponytail high and swinging. My liner was still intact-and I tugged at my little hoop earrings, checking everything once in the glass window as I passed.

**Me:** (Texting him) *Coming out.*

No reply.

I stepped through the college main gate, sun glaring down, and looked around.

And then I saw him.

Leaning against his black luxury car like he owned the whole damn planet (which, let's be honest, he kind of did), Rudra Singh Rathor stood there, arms crossed, his expensive watch catching sunlight, sleeves rolled, two buttons of his ice-white shirt left open carelessly. His ocean blue eyes hidden behind classic dark glasses, jaw tense, expression unreadable.

He looked so *presidential*... like the CEO that everyone fears. Even the sun seemed to dim down for him.

But what irked me?

The girls standing near the parking area.

Three of them. I caught them giggling, whispering, nudging each other while shamelessly staring at him.

One even fixed her hair. *Seriously?!*

I folded my arms. Took a long breath. And walked towards him-head high.

He saw me.

And I swear-he stood straighter, like a soldier presenting arms.

### **[Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective]**

There she was.

Among a sea of students, she stepped out like she had no idea she was the only one I had eyes for.

Baggy jeans, crop top riding a little high, her waist peeking. Long ponytail bouncing behind her. She looked relaxed, comfortable, effortlessly gorgeous.

My fingers flexed slightly as I stood there, sunglasses hiding my intense gaze.

And yes-I saw the looks. The staring, the giggling, the shameless curiosity.

But the only one I cared about was walking toward me.

The second she spotted those girls ogling me, I saw it: a tiny wrinkle of her brows, a little flick of her jaw. She was annoyed. She was possessive.

*And damn, did I love it.*

I stood straighter, removed my sunglasses slowly so she could see my eyes. Her steps faltered for half a second.

She stopped right in front of me, a wall of cool annoyance.

Before she could say anything, I leaned closer, voice soft but laced with that tone she knew by now-the command wrapped in care.

**Rudra:** **"You're late."**

**Ishita:** (She rolled her eyes, arms still folded defensively) **"Five minutes, Rathor. *Breathe.* You know I was in lecture."**

I ignored her banter and the eyes of the curious students. I opened the car door for her, my hand guiding her lower back.

**Rudra:** **"The only place I want to breathe right now is outside this crowd. Get in."**

She slid in without another word. As I closed the door, I caught the eye of the girl who had been fixing her hair-she instantly looked away, embarrassed.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *Good. She needs to know the difference between a billionaire and a boyfriend. And Ishita owns the latter.*

I got into the driver's seat.

**Ishita:** **"You canceled important meetings for this, didn't you?"**

**Rudra:** **"They weren't important. *Tum zyaada important ho.* Besides, I needed a stress reliever, and watching you lecture me on health is better than any meditation."** (You are more important.)

**Ishita:** **"*Main aapki koi stress reliever nahi hoon!* I'm a person, Rudra."** (I am not a stress reliever!)

**Rudra:** (I pulled the car smoothly into traffic, glancing at the bracelet on my wrist-her gift) **"You are. You are my only *shanti*."** I paused. **"Now tell me everything. Was today's lecture more boring than usual?"**

She started complaining about her professor, and I just listened, the silence of the city replaced by the sound of *her* voice. Perfect.

### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective**

I ignored his typical CEO-style sarcasm and just got into the car.

**Fine. Let him act like he owns me.**

He shut the door, walked around, and got in himself. Clicked his seatbelt with that usual authority. And as the engine purred to life, I instantly leaned forward and turned the AC knob to full blast.

**Ishita:** **"Ugh, I hate summer. Why is it so hot today?!"** I complained dramatically, slumping back in the seat.

He didn't say anything. Just chuckled softly under his breath. God, I hated when his voice got all deep like that. It made the air conditioning feel useless.

He was driving with one hand on the wheel, other resting lazily near the gear. Sunglasses back on, sleeves still rolled up, veins popping slightly, and yeah-my inner novelist would've written an entire paragraph just describing that man.

I kept staring out of the window, trying to cool down, but something felt... off.

I blinked. Wait.

This wasn't the route to my studio.

I sat up straighter and looked around. The buildings were too tall, too modern. This was definitely the corporate side of town.

**Ishita:** **"Rudra?"** I called, voice a little cautious.

He didn't respond immediately.

**Ishita:** **"Rudra Singh Rathor,"** I said again, this time with full name warning.

He finally glanced at me sideways, smirk visible even behind his stupid expensive sunglasses.

**Rudra:** **"*Kya?*"** (What?)

**Ishita:** **"Where are you going? This isn't my studio's way. What the hell?"**

He looked forward again, still calm, still composed, and then casually dropped the bomb.

**Rudra:** **"Relax. Kidnap *nahi* kar raha hoon. *Jab khud hi nahi bolti toh karne ka kya faayda?*"** (I'm not kidnapping you. When you don't even say it yourself, what's the point of doing it?)

My jaw dropped. My heart hammered against my ribs, reacting instantly to the sheer audacity of his flirtatious taunt.

**Ishita:** **"Excuse me?! *Aapka matlab kya hai?!*"** (What do you mean?!)

He didn't answer. Just kept driving like he hadn't just made my heart do cartwheels and my brain short-circuit.

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective**

The way her face froze when I dropped the line about kidnapping-**Priceless.**

The horror. The shock. The little shade of pink rising in her cheeks. She was processing the implied desire in my words, and it was glorious.

**Ishita:** **"Excuse me?!"** she huffed.

I didn't answer. Just kept driving. Cool. Calm. Unbothered. Let her steam for a minute.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *If I tell her where we are going, she will start arguing about expenses or time. Better to keep her off-balance.*

I risked a quick side glance. Her arms were folded tightly, her eyes narrowed at the scenery rushing past.

**Rudra:** **"Why so quiet now, Ishita? Usually, you have ten lectures ready for me. Is the AC working well, or did I finally manage to shut you up?"**

**Ishita:** **"*Aapko achcha nahi lagta jab main bolti hoon?* Fine. Don't talk to me then. Drive."** (You don't like it when I talk?)

She turned her head sharply towards the window, giving me the silent treatment.

I chuckled softly, a low rumble in my chest.

**Rudra:** **"*Aisa nahi hai.* Your voice is my background music. *Lekin jab tum itni gusse mein hoti ho...* it's hard to concentrate on the road."** (It's not like that. But when you are so angry...)

**Rudra:** **"And for the record, I was taking you to the cafe near my office. They make very good *paneer tikka* and they have a beautiful view of the sunset. *Par agar aapko gussa aa raha hai, toh hum wapas chalte hain.*"** (But if you're angry, we can go back.)

I waited. I knew her love for good food and beautiful views would trump her annoyance.

She stayed silent for exactly three seconds before snapping her head back.

**Ishita:** **"*cafe* Which cafe? *And did you say paneer tikka?!*"**

### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective**

I blinked. The sheer thoughtfulness of the gesture made the tears sting my eyes.

The car finally stopped.

We were in front of... a café? One of those aesthetic, Pinterest-style ones with soft fairy lights, warm pastel walls, hanging plants, bookshelves in corners, cozy cushions on wooden chairs. A giant glass window displayed a rack of cupcakes, and the aroma of coffee hit me even from outside.

It was beautiful. Dreamy. Calming.

I stared in awe until he opened my door and stood with that same calm, slightly stern expression, one hand extended toward me.

**Rudra:** **"Aayiye madam."** (Come in, madam.)

I took his hand automatically, stepping out. He was so warm. Gentle. Like he had two modes-one for the world, and this one, only for me.

**Ishita:** (I asked softly, letting him hold my hand) **"Rudra... *yeh sab?*"** (All this?)

He didn't let go of my hand. Just turned toward the entrance, tugging me along.

**Rudra:** **"You didn't have lunch."** He spoke like a fact. Not a question.

I blinked again. *How did he-?*

**Rudra:** (He added, like he read my mind) **"You told me your lecture ran late. That means you skipped lunch."**

My heart melted, spreading warmth all the way to my fingertips. He remembered. He *tracked* my schedule.

**Ishita:** **"But you're tired,"** I said, the concern bubbling up. **"You didn't sleep properly last night, you had meetings all day and-"**

He stopped walking, turned to face me just outside the entrance, his deep blue eyes narrowing slightly in his signature calm sternness.

**Rudra:** **"I'm not asking permission, Ishita. *aapne khaana khana hai.*"** (You need to eat food.) **"This is your lunch. Come in."**

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, but I was already smiling, the exhaustion from the day momentarily forgotten.

**Ishita:** **"You're impossible, Mr. Hulk. *Bohot zyada.*"** (Too much.)

He arched a brow and finally let go of my hand, only to open the door for me like the gentleman he pretends not to be.

I walked in with a slight skip in my step. Because no one's ever cared for me like this... in silence, in small ways.

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective**

I knew she'd react like that. Big eyes widening. That slow smile she tries to hide when surprised. The little habit of clutching her bag tighter when she feels overwhelmed.

She looked around the café like she'd stepped into a fairytale. Perfect.

I didn't answer her emotional questions. Didn't want to say *"Because the thought of you hungry makes me angry."*

**Rudra:** (Inner Monologue): *Give her facts. Give her food. Give her rest.*

She started fussing about my tiredness-the concern genuine and deep.

**Ishita:** **"You're tired."**

She has no idea what she does to me. She notices the faintest shadow under my eyes, while the world only sees the Rathor fortune.

I cut her off before she could start the full lecture.

**Rudra:** **"I'm not asking permission. This is your lunch. Come in."**

She rolled her eyes and called me impossible. But she smiled. That smile was the only payment I ever needed.

As she walked ahead, taking in the soft lighting and plants, I followed. The manager was already waiting and guided us to a secluded corner table.

**Rudra:** **"Sit down, Ishita. And order something heavy. *Paneer tikka, aur ek thick chocolate shake. Kuch bhi.* But eat."** (Paneer tikka, and a thick chocolate shake. Anything.)

I pulled out her chair, waiting until she was settled. I sat opposite her, immediately picking up the menu, but my eyes didn't stray from her face.

**Rudra:** **"I already told them to prepare a quiet space. No one will bother you. *Bas relax karo.*"** (Just relax.)

I reached out and lightly tapped the black leather bracelet she had given me, a silent reminder that her feelings were anchored right here.

**Rudra:** **"So, tell me. Was the last lecture so boring that you needed a chocolate shake to recover?"**

### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective**

We settled into the cozy corner booth. The paneer tikka arrived-spicy, soft, and exactly what I needed. Rudra, predictably, ordered a ridiculously healthy platter of grilled vegetables and quinoa, looking every bit the disciplined Greek God he was.

We ate, the food comforting, the conversation easy. I told him about the tedious makeup techniques lecture, while he listened patiently, nodding occasionally. I even took a quick picture of a charming little bookshelf near our table-the vintage lighting was perfect.

**Ishita:** **"...And then she said we need to blend using only five strokes, can you believe that?"** I laughed, gesturing dramatically with my fork.

I was mid-sentence when I felt a sudden, powerful shift.

I was sitting in the chair, but the entire chair scraped against the floor, pulled towards him in a swift, commanding motion. His enormous frame didn't even budge; he just used his left hand to drag my chair until it was *flush* against his side.

**Ishita:** **"*AHH!*"** I gasped, dropping my fork, my eyes wide with shock. **"Rudra! What was that?!"**

I looked around quickly, embarrassed, but the aesthetic plants hid us well.

**Rudra:** (He looked completely unbothered, his ocean-blue eyes sharp and focused only on me. His left arm now casually draped over the back of my chair, effectively caging me against his side.) **"Eat."**

I tried to regain my composure, my cheeks burning. I picked up my fork.

**Ishita:** **"But why did you pull me-?"**

He didn't let me finish. His eyes flickered down to my mouth, and before I could move, his thumb reached out, swift and sure, wiping a tiny smear of chutney from the corner of my lower lip.

My breath hitched. My entire body went rigid.

He didn't stop there.

He brought that same thumb to his mouth-slowly, deliberately-and **licked** the small crumb of food off his skin, all while maintaining eye contact with me.

The air left my lungs. The look in his eyes was pure, unadulterated possessiveness.

His right hand, which had been resting on his own knee under the table, moved. I felt the light but firm weight of his hand settle right on my knee.

**Ishita:** (I whispered, my voice barely audible) **"Rudra..."**

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective**

She was happily talking about blending techniques, and I was listening. But even in this secluded corner, I noticed them.

Three tables away. A group of boys. Trying too hard to look casual, but their gazes kept snapping back to Ishita. Staring at her laugh. Staring at the way the light hit her skin. Staring at *my* Ishita.

They didn't know who I was, or they wouldn't dare.

I didn't waste time on warnings or threats. That was for the boardroom. Here, I needed to make a statement only *she* and the offending onlookers would understand.

I used my left hand, pulling her chair-her body-with a single, easy motion until she was pressed against my side.

**Rudra:** (I watched her gasp, her eyes wide with shock, but ignored her question.) **"Eat."**

The quick gasp of surprise, the sudden flush on her face-that was for me. The possessive barrier of my body now touching hers was for them.

Then, I noticed the smudge of chutney. Perfect opportunity.

My thumb moved, brushing the soft corner of her lip. Her body went rigid at the contact. I locked my eyes on hers as I pulled my hand away, watching her reaction to my proximity.

I brought my thumb to my mouth and *tasted* the food, deliberately drawing out the intimacy of the action.

The message was clear: **She is mine. Every part of her.**

I then placed my right hand on her knee under the table. The small, electric jump she gave was my confirmation.

**Rudra:** **"Don't worry about five strokes, Ishita,"** I murmured, my voice low and velvety, close to her ear. **"Your natural beauty needs zero strokes. *Woh ladke toh bas pagal ho rahe hain.*"** (Those boys are just going crazy.)

She gasped, finally realizing I had seen the staring.

**Ishita:** **"You did that because they were looking?"**

**Rudra:** **"Yes. *Unhein dekhna chahiye ki aapke paas kaun hai.*"** (They should see who you belong with.)

I lightly squeezed her knee, a silent promise.

**Rudra:** **"Now finish your lunch. *Aur koi bhi distraction nahi.*"** (And no more distractions.)

### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective**

I kept chewing slowly-**very** slowly-eyes focused on the half-eaten french fry on my plate like it was the most interesting piece of food ever invented.

But my cheeks were literally *on fire*.

What the hell was *that*?

His thumb... The *licking*... The unapologetic *possessive pull of the chair* like we were in some mafia romance novel!? **Rudra Singh Rathor-the man who breathes power and ice-just did *that* in public?**

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to speak, though my voice was soft and clearly flustered.

**Ishita:** **"W-what was that, huh?"** I muttered, not looking at him. My fingers fidgeted with my spoon, twisting it, tapping it.

**Ishita:** **"Everyone was *staring* at us, Rudra..."** I managed to whisper.

Still no reply.

So I risked a glance at him from the corner of my eye.

Big mistake.

He was *already* looking at me-his elbow propped on the table, jaw resting against his knuckles, that annoyingly calm, smug expression playing at the corners of his mouth.

Ocean blue eyes hidden behind those sunglasses earlier were now uncovered, fully focused.

And I swear-that look in his eyes?

*He knew exactly what he'd done to me.*

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective**

I let her fidget. Let her blush. She needed to feel the consequence of making me wait.

She peeked at me, pretending like she wasn't, but I caught it. Her cheeks were pink. Lips slightly parted. Her eyes, though flustered, held something else too-a spark of dangerous curiosity.

I leaned in closer-just enough to drop my voice a little. My tone casual, but my words anything *but*.

**Rudra:** **"You were busy talking. I was busy watching."**

Her breath caught.

**Ishita:** **"Watching what?"** she whispered, clearly knowing the answer.

I didn't blink, keeping my gaze locked with hers.

**Rudra:** **"You."**

**Rudra:** **"And I noticed you had food here."** I pointed delicately to the corner of my own mouth. **"It was a waste to let it go. *Aur main waste pasand nahi karta.*"** (And I don't like waste.)

**Ishita:** (She looked horrified) **"Rudra! You could have just told me! Or handed me a tissue! *Aapne toh... aapne toh sabko dikha diya!*"** (You showed everyone!)

**Rudra:** (I gave a small, lazy shrug, my eyes never leaving hers) **"*Toh kya?* What's the big deal? It was just a crumb, Ishita. *Aur mera haath busy tha.*"** (So what? And my hand was busy.)

I slowly took my hand off her knee and lifted it to the back of her chair again, making sure the possessive barrier remained.

**Rudra:** **"Besides, *meri cheez hai.* I can use it however I want. *Chahe woh mera dhyan ho, ya woh choti si chutney.*"** (It's mine. Whether it's my attention, or that small chutney.)

She tried to glare, but the blush betrayed her.

**Ishita:** **"I am not a *cheez* (thing), Rudra! And I don't belong to anyone! *Aapka yeh possessive wala mode bilkul achcha nahi hai!*"** (Your possessive mode is not good at all!)

**Rudra:** **"It's not a mode, Ishita. It's a reaction. *Aur mujhe yeh dikhana padta hai.*"** (And I have to show it.)

I leaned in further, my voice low, raw, and sincere-cutting through the teasing.

**Rudra:** **"*Main duniya ko yeh nahi dikhana chahta ki tum meri ho.* But I need to show *them* that you are off-limits. *Aur main tumhe kisi se share nahi karta.* Never."** (I don't want to show the world that you are mine. But I need to show them that you are off-limits. And I don't share you with anyone.)

I picked up a napkin and gently dabbed the corner of her mouth, this time using the polite method.

**Rudra:** **"*Ab shant. Aur khaana khatam karo.* We still need to discuss your father's next check-up."** (Now calm. And finish your food.)

### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective**

I dusted off my hands on the tissue, grabbed my sling bag, and stood up-quickly, maybe a bit *too* quickly-like I needed to *physically escape* whatever just happened (the licking, the staring, the possessive arm).

**Ishita:** **"Okay let's go, I'll pay-"** I began, already pulling my wallet from my bag.

But the next second, a strong hand wrapped around my wrist and tugged me back-not harshly, but firm enough to make me lose balance and almost fall back into the chair.

I stumbled slightly and looked up in surprise.

He was still seated, legs crossed like a damn mafia prince, calm as hell. One brow raised, his ocean-blue eyes just *daring* me to keep arguing.

Before I could even breathe out a protest, he reached into his coat and pulled out his card, sliding it on the table in one smooth, no-nonsense motion.

**Ishita:** **"Rudra-"** I started again, my tone soft but annoyed.

He didn't even let me finish.

In a blink, he stood up, moved behind me, and wrapped an arm around my waist-not in a romantic way, but in the "you're not escaping this argument" kind of way. He pulled me *against* him gently, my back pressed against the firmness of his chest.

**Rudra:** (His voice was low but firm, right near my ear) **"Not happening, Sharma. Let the man do something, will you? Stop treating everything like a battleground."**

My lips parted in a flustered protest, but I felt... warm. Held. Safe. And confused-because my heart was beating *way too fast* for something this casual.

I could feel his hand resting just at the curve of my hip-not doing anything wrong, but *God*, it felt wrong just because of how much my body reacted.

**Ishita:** **"You can't keep paying every time-"** I whispered, barely meeting his eyes.

His gaze softened-barely-but it was there, filled with a silent, heavy fondness.

**Rudra:** (He murmured, his voice a deep command) **"Watch me."**

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective**

Of course she tried to pay. She always did. As if I'd ever let her.

She stood up and started pulling her wallet out like she was doing something heroic, something to maintain the balance of our 'friendship.' *Annoying. And so very her.*

I didn't even think twice. Just reached for her wrist, pulled her back, and placed my card on the table. The decision was final.

Her eyes widened when she looked up at me-irritated, slightly breathless.

I stood up, moved behind her, and wrapped an arm around her waist-an anchor. To keep her close. To say *"enough now."*

**Rudra:** **"Not happening, Sharma."**

I felt her stiffen slightly, then melt just enough to lean back without realizing. Her body was familiar against mine now, a perfect, comforting fit.

I could hear her heartbeat-rapid, soft. Just like mine was around her.

Her voice dropped, barely a whisper. **"You can't keep paying every time..."**

I leaned down near her cheek, letting my voice drop into that calm, commanding tone I *knew* messed with her thoughts.

**Rudra:** **"Watch me."**

I added, a slight, husky warmth entering my voice: **"*Jab tumhare papa theek ho jaenge,* then you can argue with me all you want. *Lekin abhi, chup chap meri suno.*"** (When your father gets well, then you can argue with me all you want. But right now, quietly listen to me.)

I loosened my grip slightly, but my hand remained at the curve of her hip, a silent, powerful claim.

**Rudra:** **"Let's go. I'll drive you to the hospital first. You need to see him before you go home."**

### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective**

I rolled my eyes dramatically, snatching my hand away from his iron grip-not harshly, but with just enough sass.

**Ishita:** (I turned to face him again, remembering his last command) **"Hospital, you say? Mr. President, you forgot. *Aapke background work se toh* Papa was discharged two days ago!"** (Your father was discharged two days ago due to your background work.)

I watched his usually perfect composure falter for a single second of pure realization. *He forgot.* His mind was so stressed, he forgot the timeline of his own crisis management.

He simply nodded, acknowledging the slip.

**Ishita:** (I broke the tension with a mock sigh) **"Fine, Mr. Rathor, then handle my bag too. It's *too heavy* for my delicate shoulders."**

I tugged the strap off, acting like it was made of cement blocks and held it out like I was handing him a ticking bomb.

He gave me that look-the 'you really think I'll do it?' look. But before I could smirk harder, he... actually took it.

Just... took it.

Slinging it casually over his broad shoulder like it weighed nothing.

**Rudra:** (He said dryly, eyes dancing with challenge) **"Of course, madam. I mean, why stop at paying? I'll carry your whole emotional baggage too if you want. *Mujhe toh aadat hai bojh uthane ki.*"** (I am used to carrying burdens.)

I gawked for half a second-he did *not* just say that.

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh as I stepped forward, adjusting the hem of my crop top and pulling up the waistband of my jeans. My ponytail bounced as I walked ahead of him, into the golden sunlight.

I turned slightly, tossing him a grin over my shoulder.

**Ishita:** **"Wow, that's the most poetic line you've ever said. You must be secretly reading those romantic poets."**

**Rudra:** (He raised a brow as he locked the car) **"I read that on Pinterest last night. It was under 'Sarcastic Ways to Flirt'."**

**Ishita:** **"Liar."**

He smirked.

God.

Ocean-blue eyes hidden behind black summer shades, button-down shirt brushing his stone-hard chest, and now-my pastel pink sling bag resting on his dangerous mafia-CEO shoulder?

I swear, every cell in my body screamed-*this man is going to ruin you completely.*

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective**

She caught me.

The hospital slip. My mind was still running on emergency protocol. I simply nodded once. No need for excuses.

Then she handed me her bag, challenging my authority with her dramatic plea about *delicate shoulders*.

I took it. Quietly. Slung it over my shoulder. It was a flimsy, light thing covered in pins and maybe a stitched cartoon rabbit-the complete antithesis of my corporate armor.

**Rudra:** **"Of course, madam. I mean, why stop at paying? I'll carry your whole emotional baggage too if you want. *Mujhe toh aadat hai bojh uthane ki.*"**

She froze, then laughed-real, bright, uncontrolled.

That sound? It echoed through something I didn't realize was hollow in me.

She adjusted her clothes casually, confident, glowing in the sun. I watched her walk ahead, my pace automatically slowing to match hers.

**Ishita:** **"Wow, that's the most poetic line you've ever said."**

**Rudra:** **"Pinterest,"** I lied easily, smiling as she walked away.

**Ishita:** **"Liar,"** she replied, eyes twinkling.

I smiled, a genuine, easy smile.

**Rudra:** (Inner Monologue): *Pinterest? No. That line came from the truth. And now, seeing her silly pink bag on my shoulder, I realized I'd rather be here, carrying her lightweight baggage, than negotiating a multi-million dollar deal.*

I walked toward her, the warm golden light casting long shadows behind us.

**Rudra:** **"So, if the hospital is out, where to, *madam*? I believe I still have one more job to complete: dropping the incredibly demanding woman home."**

### **[Ishita Sharma's Perspective]**

Rudra opened the passenger door for me-always the gentleman, even with my ridiculous pink sling bag slung across his chest moments ago. I slid in, and he tucked the bag safely onto his lap.

I couldn't help but glance at it. The small, silly bag looked like a toy resting on the solid, dark expanse of his broad, muscular body. The contrast was genuinely hilarious, but also deeply heartwarming.

He got in, started the engine, and I immediately rolled the window down halfway. The air was thick, heavy, smelling of dust and the promise of rain. I leaned my elbow on the sill, watching the sky.

Then, the music started.

It wasn't his usual classic rock or the low drone of news channels. This was a soft, melodious Punjabi track.

The lyrics drifted into the humid air:

*"Maine chaaha tujhe, meri khata nahi,*

*Meri khata hai ke, tujhe pata nahi..."*

(*I desired you, it is not my fault,*

*My fault is that, you do not know.*)

My breath hitched. The words hit me straight in the chest, echoing the unspoken tension between us. It felt too specific, too personal.

I turned my head slowly to look at him. His eyes were fixed on the road, his expression completely neutral, but the grip on the steering wheel looked just a little too firm.

Then the chorus hit:

*"Tere naal tere naal, preeta laiyan,*

*Ve maahi tainu, khabar nahi..."*

(*With you, with you, I have bonded with love,*

*Oh my beloved, you are unaware...*)

My heart hammered. He was playing this song. *He had to be.*

**Ishita:** (I kept my voice light, trying to sound casual, but my throat was tight) **"*Arey wah!* Rudra Singh Rathor listening to Punjabi romance? *Yeh kab se?* What happened to your stock market updates?"** (Since when?)

He shifted his gaze from the road to me for a brief, intense moment.

**Rudra:** **"*Accha gana hai.* It popped up on my playlist. *Bahut expressive lyrics hain.*"** (It's a good song. Very expressive lyrics.)

He looked back at the road, avoiding my gaze, but his thumb was tapping the rhythm of the beat against the steering wheel.

I knew he was lying. He was using the song to say what the cold CEO, the 'Pattu,' was too afraid to admit.

I settled back, a slow smile spreading on my face, letting the music speak for him. The feeling of being loved-or desired-was heavy and sweet.

### **[Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective]**

I put her silly pink bag on my lap. It felt ridiculous, but right.

I saw her roll the window down, welcoming the humid pre-rain air. I knew I needed to break the silence of the car, which was far too loud with the aftershock of my possessive antics at the café.

My finger went straight to the song. It wasn't random. I had been listening to it all morning. It was the only thing that articulated the suffocating fear and desire I felt for her.

*"Maine chaaha tujhe, meri khata nahi, Meri khata hai ke, tujhe pata nahi..."*

The lyrics were screaming my truth. I knew she was looking at me, her curiosity pricked.

**Ishita:** **"*Arey wah!* Rudra Singh Rathor listening to Punjabi romance? *Yeh kab se?*"**

I kept my eyes glued to the road. I couldn't look at her; the truth would spill out. The shame of being a scared, lovelorn man would be too much.

**Rudra:** **"*Accha gana hai.* It popped up on my playlist. *Bahut expressive lyrics hain.*"**

*Expressive?* They were my whole damn existence right now! The second verse confirmed my exact state:

*"Poochde ne mere yaar puraane, ki ho gaya, ki ho gaya...*

*Tere nahi kyun hosh thikaane..."*

(*My old friends ask, what happened to you...*

*Why are you not in your senses...*)

I was utterly out of my senses because of her. And she had **no idea**.

I risked another glance. She was smiling now, a small, knowing, dangerous smile.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *Yes, Ishita. I played this because I can't say it. This is my confession. This is my 'I love you.' My biggest fear is that you will find out, and my second biggest fear is that you won't.*

The song finished, and the car fell silent again, but the words hung in the air like a heavy, golden curtain between us.

**Rudra:** **"You said your brother is home with your father, right? We can drop you off now."** I forced my voice to be strictly business-like.

I had to get her out of the car before I did something possessive again, or worse, finally said those three terrifying words.

### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective**

I said **"no, drop me at my studio, I have work there."** Because even though my father was home, I needed the comforting routine of work, and honestly, I needed to process the intensity of the last hour.

The car slowed in front of my studio-the familiar board above the glass door, the little flowerpots I'd arranged, the pink neon heart light still glowing faintly from inside.

The song still played, gently:

> **"तेरे नाल तेरे नाल प्रीता लइयाँ**

> **वे माही तैनू खबर नहीं..."**

I didn't move immediately. Neither did he. The engine purred low. His hand had long since stopped resting on my bag. Now it just sat there on his thigh-still, tense, like him.

I turned to him.

He didn't say a word, but his eyes-even behind those expensive sunglasses-were on me. I could *feel* them.

I undid my seatbelt, grabbed my phone, and smiled-a small, warm one. Trying to act normal when my heart was anything but.

**Ishita:** **"Thanks for lunch, Mr. Hulk,"** I said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. **"And for the kidnapping,"** I added with a soft laugh, trying to break the heavy tension the song had created.

He smirked-that lazy, half-cocked smirk that was only *mine*. And then... I did what had become *our* ritual.

I leaned in.

I rose to my toes, even in shoes. Arms slid naturally around his neck. He didn't resist-ever. His hands instantly came to my waist, his grip firm like always, grounding, secure. He smelled like sandalwood, like expensive cologne, like... something unexplainable but comforting.

I pressed my face into his shoulder-his **broad**, warm shoulder. My eyes fluttered shut.

Just like every time, the world quieted in that hug. It was just us.

**Ishita:** (I whispered softly, cheek still pressed to him) **"You didn't eat that much. Don't skip dinner."**

His hands held me tighter for a second, like he wanted to say something-but he didn't.

And neither did I.

Because how do you say *I love you* when the other person is only confessing through borrowed Punjabi lyrics?

So instead, I pulled back-slowly. Our eyes met for a heartbeat too long, the silence charged with the electricity of unsaid desires.

**Ishita:** **"Drive safe, Rudra..."** I murmured.

I opened the door, slipped out, and walked toward the studio door, heart left pounding in the leather seat behind me.

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective**

I knew the corner now-knew the two potted plants she always checked before going inside.

As the car stopped, she turned to me, her eyes reflecting the golden sunset. When she thanked me for the *kidnapping*, I gave her the only response I could manage: my smirk.

Then she leaned in.

It was routine now. This part of the day where time stopped.

Her arms wrapped around my neck like second nature. My hands found her waist on instinct-memorized that curve, that feel.

She buried her face in my shoulder and whispered something about me skipping dinner. That little concern. That softness.

It was everything.

I wanted to say everything-that her voice played on loop in my head, that I played *that* song not for fun but because it was the only way I could confess, that I was falling for her so hard it terrified the ruthless man I was supposed to be.

But my throat wouldn't open.

So instead, I held her tighter for a second more. Hoping the crushing force of my arms would communicate the three forbidden words.

And when she pulled back, her eyes found mine-that look again. Unspoken but screaming everything.

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *Be safe, Ishita. You are my only safety.*

I watched her walk to her studio. Watched her hand on the glass door. Watched her hesitate just for half a second-before disappearing inside.

My hands stayed clenched on the steering wheel for a full minute after she left.

The song had ended.

But the feeling? The intense, demanding, consuming love hadn't.

I started the car, pulling out slowly, my eyes already texting the one man I trusted with my soul.

**Rudra** (Texting Laksh): **"Clear my schedule tomorrow. All day. I need to arrange something personal. *Only tell me about a crisis if the building is actively on fire.*"**