👑 Rudra's Perspective

I reopened my laptop, trying to focus on the merger documents, but it was a lost cause. My left hand was wrapped around **Ishi’s waist**, holding her close to my heart, while my right hand mindlessly scrolled through emails.

She was lying back against my chest, her head tucked perfectly under my chin. Her small, delicate fingers were busy **playing with my shirt buttons**, undoing the top one and then twisting the thread of the second. Every time her knuckles brushed against my skin, a jolt of electricity shot through me, making me mistype every second word.

"Ru..." she whispered, her voice sounding like a sweet melody in the quiet cabin. "I’m really disturbing you, aren't I?"

I looked down at her. Her **long curly hair** was spread across my white shirt like a silk curtain. She looked up at me, those big **brown eyes** wide and curious, and my breath hitched.

"You’re a catastrophe for my productivity, **Ishi**," I rasped, my voice sounding deeper than usual. "If my board members saw me right now, they’d think I’ve been replaced by a body double."

She giggled, a tiny sound that made me want to stop time. She leaned in, her nose brushing against my chest as she toyed with the third button.

"**Shaadi ke baad bhi karungi toh gussa toh nahi karoge na?**" (If I do this after marriage too, you won't get angry, right?) she asked softly. "Ya phir datoge?" (Or will you scold me?)

I stopped scrolling. I let my hand drop from the mouse and moved it to her chin, tilting her face up so she had to look into my **ocean blue eyes**. The thought of her doing this every single day—disturbing my work, sitting on my lap, being my beautiful little nuisance—filled me with a possessive warmth I couldn't describe.

"Angry?" I repeated, my thumb tracing her lower lip. "Scold you?"

I leaned down until our foreheads were touching. "Listen to me, **Jaana**. I’ve spent my whole life in silence. I’ve spent years in boardrooms where everyone is afraid to breathe too loudly around me. I’ve lived in a house that felt like a museum."

I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, my gaze intense.

"The only thing I want after we’re married is for you to disturb me. I want you to ruin my meetings. I want you to make me forget my password because you’re kissing my neck. I want you to be so 'annoying' that I have no choice but to cancel my flights just to stay in bed with you."

She **blushed a deep, beautiful crimson**, her hands stilled on my buttons. "Really? You won't get tired of me?"

"I’ll get tired of breathing before I get tired of you," I promised, my voice thick with emotion. "But if you disturb me too much..." I paused, a wicked, flirtatious smirk playing on my lips.

"What?" she whispered, her breath hitching.

"Then I’ll have to 'punish' you, **Princess**," I murmured, my hand sliding down to her hip, pulling her even closer into my lap. "And my punishments involve a lot less scolding and a lot more... handling. Do you think you can handle that?"

She hid her face in my neck, her small hands clutching my shoulders. I could feel her smiling against my skin.

"I think I can manage," she whispered.

I let out a low chuckle, shutting the laptop once and for all. "Good. Because I’m done with work. My only project for the rest of the evening is you."

---

**The wedding countdown is officially on!**

* Should we go to the **Sangeet Ceremony**, where the "Ice King" has to dance to a romantic Bollywood song with his Queen?

* Or should they have a **late-night "date"** in the office since the cabin is already locked and private?I reopened my laptop, trying to focus on the merger documents, but it was a lost cause. My left hand was wrapped around **Ishi’s waist**, holding her close to my heart, while my right hand mindlessly scrolled through emails.

She was lying back against my chest, her head tucked perfectly under my chin. Her small, delicate fingers were busy **playing with my shirt buttons**, undoing the top one and then twisting the thread of the second. Every time her knuckles brushed against my skin, a jolt of electricity shot through me, making me mistype every second word.

"Ru..." she whispered, her voice sounding like a sweet melody in the quiet cabin. "I’m really disturbing you, aren't I?"

I looked down at her. Her **long curly hair** was spread across my white shirt like a silk curtain. She looked up at me, those big **brown eyes** wide and curious, and my breath hitched.

"You’re a catastrophe for my productivity, **Ishi**," I rasped, my voice sounding deeper than usual. "If my board members saw me right now, they’d think I’ve been replaced by a body double."

She giggled, a tiny sound that made me want to stop time. She leaned in, her nose brushing against my chest as she toyed with the third button.

"**Shaadi ke baad bhi karungi toh gussa toh nahi karoge na?**" (If I do this after marriage too, you won't get angry, right?) she asked softly. "Ya phir datoge?" (Or will you scold me?)

I stopped scrolling. I let my hand drop from the mouse and moved it to her chin, tilting her face up so she had to look into my **ocean blue eyes**. The thought of her doing this every single day—disturbing my work, sitting on my lap, being my beautiful little nuisance—filled me with a possessive warmth I couldn't describe.

"Angry?" I repeated, my thumb tracing her lower lip. "Scold you?"

I leaned down until our foreheads were touching. "Listen to me, **Jaana**. I’ve spent my whole life in silence. I’ve spent years in boardrooms where everyone is afraid to breathe too loudly around me. I’ve lived in a house that felt like a museum."

I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, my gaze intense.

"The only thing I want after we’re married is for you to disturb me. I want you to ruin my meetings. I want you to make me forget my password because you’re kissing my neck. I want you to be so 'annoying' that I have no choice but to cancel my flights just to stay in bed with you."

She **blushed a deep, beautiful crimson**, her hands stilled on my buttons. "Really? You won't get tired of me?"

"I’ll get tired of breathing before I get tired of you," I promised, my voice thick with emotion. "But if you disturb me too much..." I paused, a wicked, flirtatious smirk playing on my lips.

"What?" she whispered, her breath hitching.

"Then I’ll have to 'punish' you, **Princess**," I murmured, my hand sliding down to her hip, pulling her even closer into my lap. "And my punishments involve a lot less scolding and a lot more... handling. Do you think you can handle that?"

She hid her face in my neck, her small hands clutching my shoulders. I could feel her smiling against my skin.

"I think I can manage," she whispered.

I let out a low chuckle, shutting the laptop once and for all. "Good. Because I’m done with work. My only project for the rest of the evening is you."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The warmth of his words was still swirling in my chest, making me feel like I was floating. Hearing the "Ice King" say he wanted me to ruin his meetings and be his "beautiful nuisance" was more than any diamond could ever mean to me. I was just about to tease him back, my fingers moving to his fourth button, when—

*Knock. Knock.*

The sound felt like a gunshot in the silent, luxury cabin.

"Sir? The delegates from the London merger are in the conference room. Everything is ready for the presentation."

It was **Laksh**. His voice was professional and steady, but just hearing another person’s voice made my heart lunge into my throat.

"Oh my God!" I gasped, my eyes widening in panic. "Ru, let me go!"

I tried to scramble off his lap, my **high heels** clicking against the floor as I struggled to find my footing. My face was burning with a blush so hot it felt like a fever. All I could think about was how embarrassing it would be if Laksh walked in and saw the Future Queen of the Rathore Empire sitting on the President’s lap like a spoiled kitten.

But I didn't get very far.

Before I could even stand up fully, Rudra’s hand—large, powerful, and utterly uncompromising—wrapped around my **tiny waist**. With one swift, effortless motion, he **pulled me back** down.

"Ah!" I let out a small, soft cry as I landed right back on his **muscular** thighs. My back hit his chest, and I could feel the vibration of his low, dark chuckle against my spine.

"Rudra! Stop it!" I hissed, my voice a frantic whisper as I looked at the door. "Laksh is right outside! What if he comes in? My reputation will be ruined!"

"Let him wait," Rudra said, his voice completely unfazed. He didn't even look at the door. His **ocean blue eyes** were fixed on me, dark with a mix of mischief and possessiveness.

He didn't let go. Instead, he tightened his grip, pulling me so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. One of his hands moved to my neck, his thumb tracing the line where he’d left a mark just a few days ago.

"Ru, please," I pleaded, though my heart was traitorously enjoying his dominance. "He’s your main bodyguard. It’s unprofessional!"

"I am the President of this company, **Ishi**," he murmured into my ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. "I decide what is professional. And right now, my most important business is making sure you don't run away every time someone knocks."

"Sir?" Laksh called out again, sounding a little hesitant this time. "Should I tell them you'll be five minutes?"

Rudra finally looked toward the door, his expression shifting back into that cold, commanding mask, though he didn't release me.

"Tell them I’ll be there in ten, Laksh," Rudra commanded, his voice booming with authority. "And do not interrupt me again unless the building is on fire."

"Yes, sir. Understood, sir." I heard Laksh’s footsteps retreating, and I finally let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"You are a monster," I whispered, turning around in his lap to glare at him, though I was smiling despite myself. "A literal, possessive monster."

"And you are my 'disturbing' fiancé," he reminded me, his fingers tangling in my **long curly hair**. He leaned in, his gaze dropping to my lips. "Now, where were we? You were asking if I’d scold you after marriage?"

He didn't wait for my answer. He claimed my lips in a quick, firm kiss that tasted like a promise.

"Ten minutes, **Jaana**," he rasped against my mouth. "And I plan to use every single second of them before I have to go be 'The Ice King' again."

I sighed, wrapping my arms around his neck, my **silver bangles** clinking in the quiet room. I knew I should be worried about the merger, but in his arms, in this office, with the world watching us on their screens, I felt like the luckiest girl alive.

Time skip

June in Delhi was a nightmare. Between the blistering 45-degree heat and my final college exams, I felt like I was losing my mind. My desk was a graveyard of highlighter pens, crumpled notes, and half-empty coffee cups. My head was throbbing with dates, theories, and makeup techniques I had to memorize for my practicals.

And then, to make matters worse, my body decided to betray me.

My periods had started this morning with a vengeance. The cramps were rolling through my abdomen like hot knives, and the hormonal shift had turned my usual sweetness into pure, unadulterated venom. I felt bloated, my skin felt oily, and I wanted to cry and scream at the same time.

And right now, the target of my misplaced rage was the man who was currently standing in the doorway of the my studio cabin looking perfectly calm and devastatingly handsome.

"Ishi," Rudra said, his voice a low, steady rumble. "It’s 11:00 PM. You’ve been staring at that same page for forty minutes. Close the book. You’re coming to home

I didn't even look up. I gripped my highlighter so hard I thought it might snap. "I can’t, Rudra. I have three chapters left. Go away."

I heard the soft *thud* of his expensive leather shoes on the carpet as he walked toward me. "You’re exhausted. Your brain isn't even absorbing the information anymore. Come on, **Jaana**. I’ve already asked Laksh to bring up some hot chocolate."

"I don't want hot chocolate!" I snapped, finally spinning around in my chair to face him. My hair was in a messy, chaotic bun, my eyes were probably bloodshot, and I was wearing one of his oversized t-shirts that reached my knees. "And I don't want you telling me what to do! Just because you can run five companies without sleeping doesn't mean I can! Leave me alone!"

Rudra froze. His **ocean blue eyes** narrowed slightly, but he didn't snap back. That was the worst part—his calmness made me feel even more irrational.

"I'm not comparing us, Ishi," he said, stepping into my personal space and leaning down to rest his hands on the arms of my chair, effectively trapping me. "I'm looking at my fiancé, who looks like she’s about to collapse. Your health is more important than one exam."

"Easy for you to say!" I yelled, my voice cracking. I felt the familiar sting of tears—the stupid, hormonal tears I couldn't control. "You're the Prince! You're the billionaire! If I fail, I’m just... I’m just a failure! And stop hovering over me! You’re too big, and you’re taking up all the air in the room!"

I shoved at his **muscular** chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain. He didn't budge an inch. Instead, he caught my wrists in his large hands.

"I'm too big?" he repeated, a hint of a dark, amused smile playing on his lips, though his eyes remained worried. "You weren't complaining about my size when you were clinging to me in the car last week, **Princess**."

"That was last week!" I shrieked, tugging my hands away. "Everything is different today! I'm bloated, I'm in pain, and you're being... you're being too *Rudra*! Just go away and sleep in the guest room if you’re so worried about me!"

The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. His expression shifted. The amusement vanished, replaced by that cold, stony mask he usually reserved for his rivals.

"The guest room?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy whisper.

"Yes!" I said, even though my heart was screaming *'No, don't leave me!'* "I need space! You’re too possessive, and I can't think when you're looking at me like I’m a piece of glass that’s about to break!"

I stood up, trying to push past him, but he stepped into my path, his chest inches from mine. He was so tall I had to crane my neck to look at him.

"I am looking at you that way because you *are* hurting," he rasped, his hand reaching out to catch my waist, pulling me firmly against him. "I saw the heating pad in the trash, Ishi. I know you're on your cycle. I know you're in pain. Why are you fighting me when I'm just trying to take care of you?"

"Because I don't want to be taken care of!" I lied, a sob finally escaping my throat. I pounded my fists against his shoulders. "I want to be left alone! I hate this room, I hate these books, and right now, I think I hate you too!"

Silence. The kind of silence that feels like the world has stopped spinning.

Rudra’s grip on my waist tightened until it was almost painful. His **ocean blue eyes** searched mine, looking for the truth behind the hormonal rage. He didn't let go. He didn't walk away.

"You don't hate me," he whispered, his face inches from mine, his breath smelling of mint and expensive coffee. "You’re just tired. And you’re hurting. And you’re trying to push me away because you think you have to do everything by yourself."

"I do!" I cried, the tears now streaming down my face. "I have to prove I'm more than just your 'fiancé'!"

"To who?" he growled, his voice thick with possessiveness. "The world? I’ll buy the world and silence it. To me? You’ve already proven everything. You're the girl who survived three years without me. You're the girl who makes me want to be a better man. You have nothing left to prove, Ishita."

He picked me up suddenly, my legs instinctively wrapping around his **tiny waist** as he cradled me against his chest.

"Put me down!" I protested, though my voice was losing its edge as I buried my face in his neck, breathing in his scent. "I have to study!"

"The books are staying here," he commanded, his voice final as he started walking out of the library toward our bedroom. "And you are staying with me. You can scream at me, you can fight me, and you can tell me you hate me a hundred more times tonight—but I am not letting you go."

Time skip

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The transition from the scorching June heat to the humid breeze of july had done nothing to slow down the whirlwind of my life. If anything, the clock was ticking louder. **December 20**. That was the date carved into my mind, the day I would finally, legally, and irrevocably make Ishita Sharma a part of the Rathore legacy.

I sat at the head of the massive, carved teakwood dining table in our ancestral mansion. The air was thick with the aroma of *food and saffron rice, but my mind was miles away, in a small makeup studio where I knew my **Jaana** was likely finishing up a late-night bridal client.

"Rudra, are you even listening?"

I snapped my gaze to **Maa **. She was glowing, her silk saree rustling as she leaned toward **Chachi **. Between them sat **Bebe**, the matriarch of our family, her eyes sharp as ever behind her spectacles.

"I’m listening, Maa," I said, my voice deep and composed, though my fingers were mindlessly tracing the rim of my crystal glass.

"We were discussing the *Sangeet*," Chachi chimed in, her excitement bubbling over. "Bebe thinks we should have a traditional Rajasthani folk night, but I was telling her that Ishita’s side might enjoy something more modern. What do you think, Rudra?"

"As long as she is happy, I don't care about the theme," I stated simply.

"Haye, look at him!" **Ahana**, my younger sister, teased from across the table, nudging **Akshat**. "The Ice King has turned into a puddle of water. 'As long as she is happy'... who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

**Akshat, Vardaan, and Jay**—the trio of trouble—burst out laughing.

"Bhai is just counting down the days," **Akshat** grinned, leaning back in his chair. "I saw his calendar. December 20 is circled in red with a little heart. I didn't know you knew how to draw hearts, Bhai."

"Eat your dinner, Akshat, before I decide to send you to the Dubai office for the winter," I warned, though the edge in my voice was softened by a rare, small smirk.

"Bebe," **Vardaan** piped up, ignoring my threat. "We need a massive dance floor. I’ve already started practicing my move for the 'Entry of the Groom.' It’s going to be legendary."

"No one is watching you, Vardaan Bhai" **Jay** muttered, passing the salad. "Everyone will be looking at the bride. I heard Ishita Bhabhi is designing her own look for the Haldi. She’s going to look like a literal goddess."

The mention of her name made my chest tighten with a familiar possessiveness. She wasn't here tonight—she was staying at her place to help her sister with some work—and the mansion felt strangely empty without her laughter echoing through these cold, marble hallways.

"The *Haldi* must be done according to the old ways," **Bebe** announced, her voice commanding silence. "The sandalwood must come from our estate in the south. And Rudra, you are not to see her for twenty-four hours before the wedding. It’s the Rathore tradition."

My jaw tightened. "Twenty-four hours? That’s not happening, Bebe."

"It’s tradition, Rudra!" Maa insisted, though she was smiling. "It brings good luck."

"I don't believe in luck, Maa. I believe in her," I countered, my **ocean blue eyes** turning intense. "And twenty-four hours without seeing her is a tradition I’m more than happy to break."

"He's hopeless," Ahana giggled, shaking her head.

I ignored their teasing, my mind already drifting back to my phone. I wanted to call her. I wanted to hear her voice tell me she’d eaten. I wanted to remind her that even while my family sat here planning "rituals" and "guest lists," the only ritual I cared about was the one where I’d finally get to pull her into my arms and never let go.

I stood up, adjusting my cufflinks. "Finish the guest list with Laksh tomorrow, Maa. I have some international calls to take."

"Calls? Or a call to a certain makeup artist?" Jay whispered loudly enough for the whole table to hear.

I didn't bother denying it. I walked out of the dining hall, the sounds of my family’s laughter and wedding talk fading behind me. As I stepped into my private study, I pulled out my phone.

The screen lit up with a photo of us—from that night on the balcony. She was laughing, and I was looking at her like she was my entire world.

Because she was.

💖 Ishita's Perspective:

Thirty days.

Seven hundred and twenty hours.

That’s how long it had been since I last heard the deep, gravelly vibration of Rudra’s voice. He had been in London for a "critical" acquisition, and for the first week, we had managed a few hurried texts. Then, the silence started. *“Network issues at the estate, Jaana,”* he had messaged. *“Security protocols are high. I’ll call when I can. Stay safe. You’re mine.”*

And I, like a fool, had understood. I had waited. I had kept my phone glued to my hand, jumping at every notification, hoping it was him. I worried if he was eating, if he was sleeping, if the "ruthless" world of London business was draining him.

But today, the truth slapped me in the face.

I was sitting in my studio, finishing a sketch for a bridal client, when my phone chimed with a news alert from a popular Bollywood paparazzi page.

> **"THE PRINCE IS BACK! Rudra Singh Rathore spotted at Delhi Private Terminal looking sharper than ever after his month-long London stint. Is the wedding prep officially starting?"**

The video showed him walking out of the airport, looking lethal in a charcoal suit, surrounded by Laksh and his security team. He looked perfectly fine. He didn't look like a man struggling with "network issues." He looked like a man who had been back in the country for at least six hours and hadn't bothered to send a single *'I'm home'* text to his fiancé.

The pen in my hand snapped.

"Network issues, my foot," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and white-hot rage.

I checked my phone again. Nothing. No missed calls. No "I missed you" texts. My **brown eyes** blurred with tears, but I blinked them back. I wasn't going to cry for a man who treated me like an afterthought while the whole world was watching him on their screens.

If he wanted silence, I would give him a silence so loud it would make his **ocean blue eyes** bleed.

I was at my studio frantically shoving my college textbooks into my bag, trying to drown out the sound of my own thumping heart. I knew he would come. He always did. He thought he could just walk back into my life, pull me into his **muscular** arms, and everything would be forgiven.

Not this time.

The door to my cabin didn't just open; it was unlocked with a spare key and pushed aside with the authority of a King. I didn't even look up from my desk. The air in the room shifted instantly—the scent of expensive sandalwood and cold rain filled the space.

"**Ishi**."

His voice was like a physical touch, deep and possessive. I felt the familiar spark of electricity, the urge to run to him and jump into his arms, but I clamped my jaw shut. I kept my back turned to him, my fingers tight on the edge of the table.

"Get out," I said, my voice cold and flat.

I heard his heavy footsteps stop right behind me. The heat from his body was radiating against my back, but I refused to melt.

"Is that how you greet your fiancé after a month?" he rasped. I felt his hand reaching out, his fingers grazing my shoulder, trying to turn me around.

I flinched away as if his touch burned me. I spun around, my **long curly hair** whipping across my face, my eyes blazing with fury.

"Don't touch me, **Mr. Rathore**," I hissed, the formal name sounding like a slap. "I wouldn't want to interfere with your 'network issues.' You should go back to London. I hear the signal is much better there than it is in this room."

Rudra froze. His face was a mask of exhaustion, his hair slightly messy, but his eyes were sharp. "Ishi, listen to me—"

"Listen to what? Another lie?" I laughed, a bitter, sharp sound. "I found out you were back through a *paparazzi reel*, Rudra! I’ve spent thirty days worried sick, checking my phone every five minutes like an idiot, while you were landing in Delhi, probably having meetings, and ignoring the one person you claim belongs to you!"

"I had things to settle, **Jaana**," he growled, his own temper starting to flicker. He stepped closer, invading my space until I was pressed against the desk. "Security was compromised. I couldn't risk—"

"I don't care about your security protocols!" I yelled, shoving at his chest with all my strength. "You have ten phones, Rudra! You have a private jet! You could have sent a signal fire if you wanted to! But you didn't. You chose to leave me in the dark."

I pointed toward the door, my hand shaking. "Go away. Go to your mansion. Go talk to your board members. I’m busy. I have exams. I have a life that doesn't revolve around waiting for a Prince who forgets I exist the moment he leaves the country."

Rudra didn't move. He stood there like a mountain, his gaze darkening until it was almost black. He looked at my **silver bangles**, then back at my face, his nostrils flaring with possessiveness.

"You think I forgot you?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low register. "You think I spent a single second in that godforsaken city without thinking about how much I wanted to tear those clothes off you and keep you locked in my room forever?"

"Words are cheap, Rudra," I snapped, turning my back on him again. "Go away. I’m not talking to you. Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not even on December 20th."

The silence that followed was terrifying. I felt him move—not toward the door, but closer to me.

"Say that again," he whispered against the back of my neck, his breath sent a shiver down my spine that I desperately tried to ignore. "Tell me again that you won't talk to me."