👑 Rudra's Perspective

I leaned against a marble pillar, the guitar strings still humming in my mind, but my eyes were locked on only one person. Before I could even catch my breath, the "women's brigade"-**Dhristi, Reet, Ahana, Aditi, Prachi, and Kriti**-descended like a colorful whirlwind, snatching **Ishita** away from my side.

I felt a sudden coldness where her hand had been just seconds ago. I stood there with **Akshat, Vardaan, Jay, and Krishiv**, a lineup of some of the most powerful men in the country, and yet we were all reduced to mere spectators.

"Close your mouth, Rathore. You're drooling," Krishiv muttered, nudging my shoulder.

"Shut up, Krishiv," I rasped, though I didn't look away.

I watched her move. She was in the center of the dance floor, a vision in that burnt orange gown, her **long curly hair** spinning around her like a halo. She looked so free, so happy. Then, little **Purav** was handed to her. My 10-month-old nephew looked like a tiny prince in his sherwani. He was clapping his chubby hands, shouting "Bua! Bua!" in his high-pitched baby voice, and then, to my absolute shock, he pointed a finger directly at me and yelled, "**Fufa ji!**"

The guys erupted in laughter. **Jay** practically doubled over. "Even the baby knows you're whipped, Bhai! You're officially 'Fufa ji' now. The Ice King has been dethroned by a toddler."

I ignored their teasing, my gaze softening as I watched Ishita kiss Purav's cheek. She was laughing, her **brown skin** glowing under the disco lights. She looked like she belonged in a world made of music and joy. And then, she caught my eye.

A mischievous glint sparked in her **brown eyes**. She handed Purav back to Riva Bhabhi and began walking toward me, weaving through the crowd with a grace that made my heart hammer against my **6'3" muscular frame**.

"Oh, here we go," Vardaan chuckled. "The Queen is coming for her King."

She reached me, her face flushed and beautiful. She didn't say a word; she just grabbed my hands and started pulling me toward the center of the floor.

"Ishi, no," I whispered, my voice a mix of a plea and a growl. "I don't dance in public. You know the rules."

"Rules are meant to be broken, Mr. Rathore," she countered, her voice full of that stubborn, sweet fire. "And besides, you already sang. The damage to your 'scary' reputation is already done. Now, come on!"

The world was watching. My parents, the media, my business rivals-everyone was waiting to see the "Cold-Hearted Prince" stumble. They didn't know that behind closed doors, in the privacy of our penthouse, she had taught me every move. They didn't know that the man who rules the boardroom is a student of her rhythm.

I let out a defeated sigh, but the smirk on my face gave me away. I stepped into the light, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her flush against me.

The music shifted to a rhythmic, soulful beat. I moved with her, my feet finding the steps we had practiced in the middle of the night while the world slept. I spun her out, catching her hand and pulling her back into my chest, my movements fluid and confident.

I heard a collective gasp from the Rathore side of the family. **Maa and Papa** looked like they had seen a ghost. They had never, in thirty years, seen me dance. Not at weddings, not at galas, not even as a child.

"Look at him go!" Jay yelled, whistling loudly.

I didn't care about them. I only cared about the way Ishita was looking at me-with pride, with passion, and with a love so deep it felt like I was drowning in it.

"You're doing great, Ru," she whispered, her hands resting on my shoulders. "The world is finally seeing the man I fell in love with."

"I'm only doing this for the 'thank you' I'm going to get later," I teased, leaning down so my forehead brushed hers.

"Is that so?" she challenged, her eyes twinkling. "And what kind of 'thank you' is the Prince expecting?"

"A lifetime of this," I said, my voice dropping to a serious, velvet tone as I spun her again. "Just you, me, and no more secrets. No more ghosts."

We danced as the flowers continued to fall, two souls from different worlds finally moving in the same rhythm. I was no longer the Ice King; I was just a man, hopelessly in love with a girl who had taught him how to live.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The music for our slow dance faded, and for a heartbeat, we just stood there, foreheads pressed together. The crowd was roaring, but I only heard Rudra's ragged breathing. Suddenly, he leaned down, his lips brushing my cheek in a **secret, lingering kiss** that made my toes curl. Before I could grab his lapels to pull him back, he smirked-that devastating, **shameless** Rathore smirk-and retreated toward the bar with his brothers.

"Oh, you're not getting away that easily, Mr. Ice King!" I muttered to myself, a mischievous spark lighting up my **brown eyes**.

Suddenly, the speakers exploded with a high-energy dhol beat. My friends had clearly bribed the DJ.

> **(Dil le gayi) (Dil le gayi)...**

The heavy Punjabi-Pop beat hit the floor, and the atmosphere shifted from "Royal Romance" to "Desi Wedding Madness." I didn't care about my heavy silk gown anymore; I started moving, my **long curly hair** bouncing as I caught Rudra's gaze from across the room.

> **Ik munda punjaabi jide nain sharabi...**

> **Ohnu love you love you aakh di..**

I pointed a finger directly at him during the "Punjabi munda" line. He was standing with a drink in his hand, looking like a Greek God, his **ocean blue eyes** tracking my every move. I winked at him, blowing a kiss that made **Jay and Krishiv** hoot with laughter. Rudra just shook his head, leaning back against a pillar, his gaze turning dark and playful as he watched his "Gujarat di kudi" take over the floor.

> **Dil le gayi kudi gujarat di!**

"That's me!" I mouthed at him, spinning around so my lehenga flared out like an orange sun. I did a little garba step, mimicking the lyrics, my **silver payal** clinking wildly. I wasn't just dancing; I was flirting with my future husband in front of half of Rajasthan's elite.

During the verse about the *garba de lak* (waist moving), I did a playful shimmy, catching Rudra's eye and tilting my head as if to say, *'Can you handle this?'* He nearly choked on his drink, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his glass. I saw him mutter something to **Akshat**, who just laughed and patted his back.

> **Thoda sharmave jado nain milave...**

"Who? Me? Shy?" I teased, looking at him through my lashes. I pretended to act shy, hiding my face behind my henna-stained hands, only to burst into a laugh and point at him to come join me. He stayed put, but the way he was looking at me-like he wanted to devour me right there amidst the rose petals-was better than any dance.

Then the song shifted into the soulful folk bridge:

> **Oh jindmaye je chaliyon patiyale te uthon lyavi ve...**

I slowed down my movements, walking toward the edge of the stage where he was standing. I leaned over the railing, my face just inches from his. "Hey, Fufa-ji," I whispered over the music, teasing him with the nickname Purav gave him. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me with my *reshmi naale*?"

Rudra leaned in, his voice a dangerous, flirtatious rumble. "If I come out there, Ishi, I'm not just dancing. I'm carrying you out of here. Choose wisely."

I giggled, my **brown skin** flushing with heat.

> **Kudi khid khid hasse, Gal ankh naal dasse...**

> **Phir pyaar da geet alaapdi!**

I danced away from him just as the beat dropped again. I was laughing, my eyes telling him everything-all the love, the gratitude for bringing Shifa back, the excitement for December 20th.

The song reached the final lines:

> **Rang saavala salona jape puri puri heer...**

> **Jassi challe naiyo jaande ohde akhiyaan de teer!**

I mimicked shooting an arrow (teer) straight into his heart. He actually clutched his chest, playing along for the first time in his life, a genuine laugh breaking across his handsome, **fair** face.

As the song ended with one final dhol crash, I stood in the center of the floor, breathless, my gown slightly messy and my hair wild. I looked at Rudra, and he was already moving toward me. He didn't care about the guests or the "scary CEO" image. He reached me, tucked a stray curl behind my ear, and whispered:

"You really did steal my heart, didn't you, you little thief?"

"And I'm not giving it back," I whispered, looping my arms around his neck. "Not ever."

The chaos of the dance floor had finally settled into the hum of a hundred conversations, and my stomach was making more noise than the dhol players. Rudra led me toward our private table, his hand never leaving the small of my back.

I looked at our plates and couldn't help but giggle. It was a literal visual representation of our two worlds colliding.

On Rudra's side, it was all "Top 5 Businessman" discipline: grilled asparagus, a lean piece of protein, and some quinoa. It looked expensive, healthy, and-in my opinion-boring. Meanwhile, my plate was a glorious, oily, spicy mountain of junk. I had extra-butter pav bhaji, three types of veg kebabs, and a towering pile of paneer tikka that was practically dripping with cream.

"Ru, you're really going to eat... *that*... on your engagement night?" I teased, picking up a piece of pav dripping with butter.

Rudra glanced at his plate and then at mine, his **ocean blue eyes** filled with a mix of amusement and genuine concern for my arteries. "It's called a 'balanced lifestyle,' Jaana. Some of us don't have the metabolism of a twenty-two-year-old dreamer."

"Oh, please. You work out for two hours a day. Your muscles have their own muscles," I countered, looking at his muscular frame**. I tore off a piece of the buttery pav, scooped up a huge glob of spicy bhaji, and held it up to his lips. "Here. Open up.

Rudra looked at the dripping pav like it was a delicious, buttery grenade. He took a quick look around to make sure the media wasn't snapping a photo of the "Ice King" being fed street food, then he leaned in and took the bite.

I watched his jaw work as he chewed, his expression shifting from 'strict CEO' to 'actually enjoying this.' He swallowed and shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It's... decent. But I'm not eating more,

"Just one bite of everything! I promise!" I chirped, already moving on to the next item. I picked up a spicy, chilly potato -the kind that leaves your fingers red-and waved it in front of him. "Look at the color, Ru. It's calling your name."

He let out a resigned sigh, but he didn't move away. That's the thing about Rudra; he's the most stubborn man on the planet, but when it comes to me, his "no" is usually just a "maybe" in disguise. He took a small bite of the spicy food, his brows knitting together.

"Too spicy?" I asked, leaning in close, my **brown eyes** wide with mock innocence.

"It's like fire," he rasped, though he didn't look angry. He reached for his glass of water, but I was already holding up a piece of malai tikka to soothe the heat.

"Here, this is creamy. It'll help," I whispered, feeling **shameless** as I fed him again.

I knew he wouldn't eat more than one bite of each. His discipline was legendary. But I also knew he would never stop me from feeding him. He loved the attention, loved the way I took care of him even in the middle of a crowd. It was our little game-the healthy prince and his junk-food princess.

"You're going to have a stomach ache later," he warned, watching me dive into a plate of extra-sweet jalebis.

"Then you'll just have to stay up and take care of me," I said, popping a piece of jalebi into my mouth and then holding the other half to his lips. "One last one? For the 'sweet' life we're going to have?"

He looked at the syrupy sweet, then at my sticky fingers, and finally at my face. The look in his eyes wasn't about food anymore. It was that deep, possessive love that always made my heart skip. He leaned in, biting the jalebi from my fingers, his lips lingering just a second too long on my skin.

"For a sweet life," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, velvet tone. "I suppose I can make an exception."

I leaned my head on his shoulder, the smell of his expensive cologne mixing with the scent of the spices on my plate. "I love that you let me ruin your diet, Ru."

"I let you ruin my whole life's plan, Ishi," he whispered, kissing the top of my head. "A little butter and sugar is the least of my worries."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I stood by the open door of her car, my frame** acting as a shield against the cool October breeze. The night was finally winding down, but the adrenaline from the last few hours was still humming in my veins.

I watched her with a quiet pride as she moved among my family. My heart swelled when I saw her bend down to touch **Maa, Papa, and Bebe's** feet. They didn't just bless her; they pulled her into tight hugs, Bebe kissing her cheeks repeatedly as if she'd found a long-lost daughter. She moved to **Dhristi, Reet, and Ahana**, the girls laughing and hugging as if they'd been sisters for a lifetime.

She was no longer just the girl I had fallen for at a temple; she was a **Rathore** now.

"Ready, Jaana?" I asked softly, reaching out to take her hand.

She gave me a tired but radiant smile, her **brown eyes** sparkling with the remnants of the night's joy. I helped her into the backseat of her car, moving with practiced care to **adjust the heavy train of her burnt orange dress** so it wouldn't get caught in the door. I lingered for a second, my hand resting on the car frame, just looking at her. She looked like a queen amidst the crushed silk and rose petals.

Before closing the door, I turned to her parents. In front of everyone-the drivers, the remaining guests, and my own brothers-I bent down and **touched their feet**. I felt her father's hand tremble slightly as he blessed me, and I pulled her brother into a firm, brief hug. "She's safe with me," I murmured to him, a silent vow between men.

I walked back to my own car, my **ocean blue eyes** catching **Akshat and Vardaan** smirking at me from their vehicles. They knew. They knew the Ice King had finally found his sun.

As our convoy began to move, the engines of the luxury cars purring in the quiet night, I looked out the window. Her car was alongside mine for a brief moment. I saw her small hand come up to the window, **waving a final goodbye** for the night.

I didn't wave back-that wasn't my style-but I pressed my palm against the glass, right where her hand was on the other side. A silent promise.

*December 20th can't come soon enough,* I thought, watching her car turn the corner toward her home.

I leaned back into the leather seat, the 'I' on my finger catching the streetlights. My diet was ruined, my reputation as a heartless businessman was in tatters, and I had a desert-prince sized headache from all the Punjabi music-and I had never been happier in my entire life.

"Laksh," I said to looking away from the window.

"Yes, sir?"

"Double the security at her house starting tonight. And tell the jeweler I want the wedding sherwani samples by Monday. We have a masterpiece to finish."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I stood outside the massive glass doors of **Eternity**, my heart racing with a different kind of excitement today. In my hands, I clutched a sleek, premium leather-bound album and a tablet pre-loaded with our engagement highlights. The professional photos had finally arrived, and oh my god, they were *art*.

There was this one closeup of Rudra looking at me while I was laughing-his **ocean blue eyes** looked so soft, so full of a love he usually hides from the world. I couldn't wait. I couldn't even wait for him to come home.

I bypassed the reception with a breezy wave-everyone here knew me as the 'Future Mrs. Rathore'-and sprinted toward the private elevator. When the doors opened on the top floor, I saw **Laksh** standing near the mahogany doors of Rudra's cabin, looking at his watch.

I didn't even stop. I didn't give him a chance to breathe. I burst through the doors like a whirlwind, my **long curly hair** flying behind me.

"RU! YOU HAVE TO SEE THESE! THE CLOSEUPS ARE-"

The words died in my throat. The air in the room felt like it had been flash-frozen.

Rudra was sitting behind his massive desk, looking every bit the **cold, heartless prince**. Across from him sat four men in sharp grey suits-international investors, looking like they were in the middle of a billion-dollar negotiation. They all turned to stare at me, their eyes wide with shock.

Rudra's expression didn't change, but I saw his hand-the one wearing my ring-tighten on his pen.

"Shit," I whispered, my face turning a shade of red that would put a tomato to shame. "Sorry. Sorry, sorry! Continue! Please continue! I am so sorry!"

I backed out of the room so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet, slamming the heavy doors shut. The silence in the hallway was deafening. I stood there for a second, my chest heaving, before I turned my fury on the only available target.

"LAKSH!" I hissed, lunging at him.

I **pinched his arm** hard, making the poor guy wince. "Can't you tell me?! Huh?! Why did you let me walk in there like a crazy person? You knew he was having an important meeting!"

"Ishita Ma'am, I tried to-"

"No! You didn't try hard enough!" I scolded, pacing the hallway in my heels, hitting my **forehead with my palm** repeatedly. "Did you see those men? They looked like they were discussing the future of the world, and I just burst in screaming about photos! Now he's going to get angry. You know how he is about his 'professional image,' Laksh! He's going to give me that 'I'm-disappointed-in-you' look with those icy eyes, and I'm going to melt into a puddle of embarrassment!"

Poor Laksh just stood there, holding his arm where I'd pinched him. He didn't even try to defend himself further; he knew once I started spiraling, it was better to just let the storm pass.

"I'm a disaster," I groaned, leaning my head against the cold glass wall. "A literal walking disaster. He's going to fire me from being his fiancée. Can you even fire a fiancée, Laksh? Is that a thing in the corporate world?"

Laksh finally managed a small, suppressed smile. "I don't think he's going to fire you, Ma'am. If anything, those investors are probably jealous they don't have someone bursting in to show them photos."

"Not helping, Laksh! Not helping at all!" I whispered, clutching the album to my chest. I stared at the closed doors, waiting for the executioner-also known as my gorgeous, terrifying future husband-to walk out and scold me.

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I sat at the head of the mahogany table, my face a mask of calculated indifference as I tore apart the proposal the German investors had spent months preparing. My voice was a cold blade, cutting through their weak arguments.

"This margin is unacceptable. If you think Rathore Industries is-"

The heavy double doors didn't just open; they were practically kicked off their hinges.

"RU! YOU HAVE TO SEE THESE! THE CLOSEUPS ARE-"

The "Ice King" died right there. I froze, my pen hovering over a contract, as my **brown beauty** burst into the room like a hurricane in a jeans top She was glowing, her **long curly hair** a mess of wild loops, clutching an album to her chest like it was a treasure map.

The investors looked like they'd seen a ghost. I felt the sharp sting of a professional reflex-the urge to be angry, to demand why my security had failed, to remind her that this was a boardroom, not a living room.

But then I saw her face.

Her eyes went wide, realization hitting her like a physical blow. Her jaw dropped, and a blush so deep it stained her neck began to crawl up her face.

"Shit. Sorry. Sorry, sorry! Continue! Please continue! I am so sorry!"

She backed out so fast she nearly took the door handle with her, her eyes darting around like a **scared little mouse** that had accidentally stumbled into a lion's den.

*Clack.* The door shut.

Silence fell over the room. I could hear Laksh's muffled "Ouch" from the hallway-she was definitely taking her embarrassment out on him.

I looked down at the table. My jaw was tight, and my **ocean blue eyes** were fixed on the door. Every professional bone in my body told me I should be furious. She had interrupted a 500-crore negotiation. She had made me look human in front of men who feared my lack of emotion.

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't find the anger. All I could think about was the way her nose scrunched up when she realized her mistake and how badly I wanted to drop this boring meeting to see what had made her so excited.

"Mr. Rathore?" the lead investor stammered, looking at me nervously. "Shall we... shall we continue?"

I looked at him, my expression slowly returning to its icy state, though my heart wasn't in it anymore. I stood up, adjusting my cuffs, my **6'3" frame** towering over the desk.

"No," I said, my voice short and clipped. "My fiancé has clearly decided that my presence is required elsewhere. My secretary will send you the revised terms by evening. We're done here."

I didn't wait for them to pack their bags. I walked toward the door, my pulse quickening. I knew she was out there, probably scolding Laksh and overthinking everything, convinced I was going to be "disappointed."

I pushed the door open. There she was, leaning against the glass wall, looking like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole, while Laksh stood by looking like a bruised bodyguard.

I crossed my arms over my **muscular chest**, leaning against the doorframe, watching her. She hadn't noticed me yet; she was too busy whispering to herself about "firing fiancées."

"You know, Ishi," I said, my voice a low, vibrating rumble that made her jump nearly a foot into the air. "If I fired everyone who interrupted my meetings, I'd have no staff left. But for you... I might have to consider a different kind of punishment."

I looked at the album in her hand, my eyes softening just enough for her to see. "Now, are you going to show me these 'closeups' or am I going to have to guess why you just cost those Germans their dignity?"

I grabbed her hand and pulled her into the silent, cold-scented cabin, the heavy doors clicking shut behind us. The moment we were alone, she went off like a firecracker, her hands waving around as she launched into a breathless rant.

"Ru, I am so, so sorry! I didn't know... I mean, I should have asked Laksh, but I was just so excited because the photographer sent the link and the closeups-oh my god, the closeups!-and then I saw those scary men in suits and I thought, 'Ishita, you've done it now, you've ruined the Rathore empire,' and I-"

I stood there, leaning my **6'3" frame** against my desk, watching her lips move a mile a minute. I didn't say a word. I just watched her, a small, involuntary smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

When she finally ran out of oxygen and stopped to take a huge gulp of air, I said it softly: "I'm not angry, Ishi."

She froze. She gave me that look-eyebrows raised, head tilted, eyes narrowed-as if she were checking to see if I had been replaced by a clone. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

She let out a massive sigh of relief, her shoulders dropping. "**Leee! Main bewajha hi pareshan ho rahi thi!**" (Ugh! I was worrying for no reason!) She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "**Bichare Laksh ko bhi daat diya aapki vajha se!**" (I even scolded poor Laksh because of you!)

I raised an eyebrow, amused. "**Meri vajha se?**" (Because of me?)

"**Haa, aur kya!**" she chirped, her humor coming back in full force now that she knew she wasn't in trouble. "**Mujhe laga aap gussa honge. Vaise, ye galat baat hai... hona chahiye aapko gussa! Kyu gussa nahi ho aap?**" (Yeah, obviously! I thought you'd be angry. Actually, this is wrong... you *should* be angry! Why aren't you angry?)

She stepped closer, poking my **muscular chest** with her index finger, her **brown eyes** dancing with mischief. "**Main dekh rahi hoon, aaj kal bohot time-pass karne lage hain aap. Kaam-vaam kariye kuch! Poora din bas baatein karte hain!**" (I'm seeing that you've started wasting a lot of time lately. Do some work! You just talk all day!)

I choked on a laugh. Me? The man who had just been about to sign a multi-million dollar merger? The man known as the most workaholic CEO in the country?

"Is that so?" I murmured, catching her hand and pulling her into the space between my knees as I sat on the edge of the desk. "You think I'm 'time-passing' because I'd rather look at my beautiful fiancée than talk to boring Germans about logistics?"

"Exactly!" she said, trying to stay firm but failing as she started to giggle. "Aapka focus bigad gaya hai, Mr. Rathore. Aapki priority list mein 'Work' niche gir gaya hai aur 'Ishita' top par baith gayi hai. Business world kya kahega? Ki Rajasthan ka Prince ek makeup artist ke peeche pagal ho gaya hai?"

"Let them say it," I said, my voice dropping to that husky, velvet tone. I took the album from her hands and set it aside, my **ocean blue eyes** locking onto hers. "They aren't wrong. I *am* pagal (crazy). Now, are you going to show me these photos, or are you going to keep scolding me like you're my boss?"

"I *am* the boss of your heart, remember?" she teased, finally opening the album. "Now look at this one... it's the one where you're smiling. Like, a *real* smile. I might have to sell this to the newspapers for a billion dollars."

I pulled her closer, my chin resting on her shoulder as we looked at our reflections on the glossy pages. "Keep the billion dollars, Ishi. Just keep the smile. It only exists for you anyway."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I felt the cool air of the cabin on my skin, but the heat radiating from Rudra's body behind me was enough to make my breath hitch. I was leaning back against the edge of his massive desk, completely absorbed in the tablet. I had chosen a casual look today-a snug, ribbed white **crop top and low-waist jeans** that hugged my curves perfectly, leaving a generous sliver of my **tiny waist** exposed.

"Look at this one, Ru," I whispered, my voice already losing its steady edge as I felt his large, warm hands settle firmly on my hips. "The way the light hits your face here... you look so regal. Like a real-life prince."

In the photo, we were in a classic royal pose: him standing behind me, his arms wrapped possessively around my waist, while I looked up at him with stars in my eyes. Another one showed us laughing mid-dance, a candid shot where his nose was brushed against my temple.

"And this one," I continued, swiping to a closeup of our joined hands, the **8-carat diamond** and his platinum 'I' ring sparkling against each other. "Our hands look so... right together."

But Rudra wasn't looking at the screen anymore. I could feel his gaze-intense, heavy, and dark-burning into the side of my neck. His hands on my hips tightened, his thumbs grazing the bare skin of my waist, sending electric jolts through my entire system.

"Ru..." I breathed, my hold on the tablet wavering. "Aap... aap photos nahi dekh rahe." (You aren't looking at the photos.)

"I've seen enough," he rumbled, his voice dropping into that dangerously low, husky register that signaled the 'Ice King' had officially left the building.

Before I could tease him about his 'focus' again, I felt his lips press against the sensitive skin just below my ear. I gasped, my head falling back onto his shoulder instinctively. He didn't stop. His kisses were slow, deliberate, and searing, marking the path from my jawline down to the curve of my shoulder.

"Rudra... kaam... meeting..." I tried to protest, but it came out as a weak, broken whisper.

"The meeting is over, Ishi," he murmured against my skin, his breath fanning over my neck, making me shiver violently. "And you were the one who said I've been 'time-passing' lately. Maybe I should show you exactly how I want to spend my time."

He turned me around in his arms so I was facing him. My **brown eyes** met his **ocean blue** ones, and I saw the absolute loss of control there. He looked at my lips, then back at my eyes, his hands sliding from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me so flush against his **muscular chest** that I could feel the frantic thudding of his heart.

"You come in here... looking like this... talking about 'closeups'..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the exposed skin of my midriff. He leaned down, his lips ghosting over mine, teasing me, waiting for me to break. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to be 'Mr. Rathore' when you're within ten feet of me?"

I reached up, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. "Then don't be Mr. Rathore," I whispered, a daring, **shameless** smile playing on my lips. "Be my Ru. The one who's 'pagal' for me."

That was his breaking point. He let out a low growl of surrender, his lips crashing onto mine in a kiss that was desperate, hungry, and filled with three years of longing. The tablet slipped from my hand, forgotten on the desk, as he lifted me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

"Ishi," he groaned against my lips, his grip on me tightening as if he wanted to pull me into his very soul. "You're going to be the ruin of me."

"Then let's be ruined together," I breathed, matching his intensity as the world outside the cabin doors-the business, the investors, even Laksh-ceased to exist.

The world outside these four walls had vanished. There was no Rathore Industries, no million-dollar deals, and no German investors. There was only the scent of Rudra's expensive woodsy cologne and the frantic heat radiating between us.

He lifted me effortlessly, my back hitting the cool surface of his mahogany desk while he stepped firmly between my legs, pinning me to the edge. His **6'3" muscular frame** loomed over me, a literal wall of heat and power. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips stayed locked on mine in a kiss so deep and hungry it felt like he was trying to breathe for both of us.

"Ru..." I moaned against his lips, the sound vibrating in the silent office.

He didn't answer with words. He trailed his kisses down to my jaw, then buried his face in the crook of my neck. I felt the sharp, electric sting of his teeth grazing my skin before he started to suck firmly, marking me with a possessiveness that made my toes curl.

"Rudra... everyone... Laksh is outside..." I gasped, but my hands were doing the opposite of pushing him away. My palms slid down his chest, feeling the hard, rhythmic thumping of his heart, and settled on his **veiny forearms**. I squeezed his muscles, my nails digging in slightly as another moan escaped me.

"Let them wait," he growled against my skin, his voice a dark, velvet rasp. He pulled back just an inch, his **ocean blue eyes** dark with a primal hunger I'd never seen before. "I told you, Ishi... you wanted to see me lose control? Here it is. This is all your fault."

He looked down at my lips, which were swollen and red from his kisses. "You look so beautiful when you're breathless for me," he whispered, his thumb tracing my lower lip before he leaned in and sucked it into his mouth, tasting me with a slow, agonizing intensity.

"You're... you're a monster," I breathed, my head falling back as his hand slid from my waist to the bare skin of my ribs, his thumb brushing the very edge of my crop top.

"Your monster," he corrected, his voice dropping to a flirtatious, dangerous hum. "And right now, I don't care about the Rathore reputation. I just want to know if you're going to keep making those sounds, or if I have to find more ways to make you lose your voice."

He leaned back into my neck, his tongue swirling over the mark he'd just made, and I couldn't help it-I let out a loud, broken moan that echoed off the glass walls. I felt him smirk against my skin, a **shameless** victory.

"That's it, Jaana," he murmured, his hands tightening on my thighs, pulling me even closer to the edge of the desk. "Give me everything. Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," I sobbed out, my heart racing so fast I felt dizzy. "Always yours, Ru."

He pulled back, looking at me with a look of pure, unadulterated adoration and lust. "Good. Because I'm never letting you off this desk if you keep looking at me like that."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I felt the soft vibrations of her laughter against my chest, a sound that usually acted as a balm to my soul, but right now, it was only fueling the fire she'd started. My face was still buried in the crook of her neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of jasmine and *her*. My **strong arms** were locked around her **tiny waist**, pulling her so close against my **muscular frame** that there wasn't a breath of air between us.

"Ru... love, enough now," she giggled, her fingers gently **caressing my hair**, sending tiny sparks down my spine. "You have to work, na? Stop it, baby. The world's most serious CEO can't spend all afternoon hiding in his fiancée's neck."

I didn't move. I tightened my grip, my nose brushing against the pulse point that was still fluttering wildly under her **brown skin**.

"The world can wait," I grumbled, my voice muffled against her skin. "They've had thirty years of my time. You've only had three."

She continued to stroke my hair, her touch so tender it almost made me forget the darkness I usually carry. "Future husband," she whispered playfully, "how are you even going to function after the marriage? If you're like this now, how will you stay away from me for even an hour to attend a meeting? Hmm? Give me a serious answer."

I knew what she wanted. She was expecting me to say something poetic-something about how I'd count the minutes until I saw her again, or how her love gives me strength.

But as I pulled back just enough to look at her, the 'Ice King' didn't return. Instead, something far more predatory and dark took over my **ocean blue eyes**. I saw her swollen lips, the mark I'd left on her neck, and the way her **low-waist jeans** dipped perfectly at her hips.

The 'emotional' reply she wanted died in my throat, replaced by a **shameless**, dark possessiveness.

"Stay away?" I repeated, my voice dropping into a dangerously low, gravelly octave. I leaned in until my lips were ghosting over hers, my hands sliding from her waist to the tops of her thighs, pinning her to the mahogany desk. "Who told you I have any intention of staying away, Ishita?"

She blinked, her breath hitching as the playful atmosphere shifted into something thick and intense. "Ru... I meant for work..."

"I'll build you an office right next to mine," I whispered, my gaze dropping to her mouth before snapping back to her eyes. "Or better yet, I'll just keep you right here, on this desk, whenever I feel my 'focus' slipping. After the marriage, the doors won't just be closed; they'll be locked. And I won't be 'staying away' from a single inch of you. I'm going to make sure that by the time I let you out of my sight, you won't even remember your own name-only mine."

I saw the pupils of her **brown eyes** dilate, her face flushing a deep, beautiful red. I wasn't being the sweet fiancé anymore; I was being the man who had spent his whole life taking what he wanted, and right now, I wanted her in ways that weren't 'gentle.'

"You wanted an answer?" I teased, my thumb grazing the waistband of her jeans, making her gasp. "That's my answer. There is no 'staying away.' There is only me, claiming what's mine, every single day, until you're as obsessed with me as I am with you."

I leaned in, my teeth grazing her lower lip in a silent promise. "Does that satisfy your curiosity, *Wife*?"

I watched her through narrowed eyes, my hands still firmly planted on the desk on either side of her hips. I expected her to shy away from the darkness in my voice, but Ishita Sharma was never one to back down.

A slow, wicked smirk spread across her face-the kind of look that told me I had met my match. She leaned forward, her arms still looped loosely around my neck, and whispered right against my ear, her breath hitching slightly.

"Is that so, Mr. Rathore?" she teased, her voice dripping with a playful challenge. "A private office? Locked doors? Tell me... is the 'great businessman' really okay with his entire elite staff hearing his fiancée's moans through these expensive soundproof walls? What will Laksh think when he has to stand guard while his boss is busy... *claiming* what's his?"

My jaw tightened. The mental image she just painted was a dangerous distraction. I leaned in, my nose brushing hers, my voice a dark promise. "Laksh knows better than to think at all when those doors are locked, Ishi. And as for the walls... I'll just have to make sure you're too breathless to make any noise at all."

Just as I was about to prove exactly how I'd do that, the sharp, intrusive buzz of my phone cut through the tension like a blade. I growled low in my throat, reaching into my pocket without breaking eye contact.

It was the Dubai lead. A call I couldn't ignore if I wanted the December merger to go through before our wedding.

I felt Ishita's soft laughter as she realized the "Ice King" was being summoned back to reality. She didn't pull away, though. Instead, she stayed perched on the desk, her expression softening into that of the caring woman who held my heart.

"Duty calls, Ru," she whispered.

She leaned in and pressed a lingering, sweet kiss to my cheek, the warmth of it grounding me. Then, her nimble fingers went to work. I stood still, paralyzed by the domesticity of the moment, as she **adjusted my silk collar**, smoothing out the creases my grip had left. She reached up, her small hands deftly **taming my hair**, pushing the wild strands back into their perfectly styled, professional place.

She took a step back, surveying her work with a satisfied nod.

"There," she said, patting my chest. "Now you look presentable. Like a top 5 businessman who definitely didn't just spend twenty minutes making out with his fiancée on his executive desk."

I caught her hand, kissing her palm before letting go. My **ocean blue eyes** were still dark, still lingering on her tiny waist. "You're lucky that call saved you, Jaana. But don't think I've forgotten your challenge."

I straightened my blazer, the mask of the cold CEO sliding back into place as I picked up the phone. I looked at her one last time-my beautiful, messy, defiant dreamer-and realized that no matter how many billions were on the line, I was already the richest man in the room.

"Stay," I commanded softly before hitting the 'Accept' button. "I want you here when I'm done."

There photos plz ignore the clothes

Imagine the outfit i told you