Ishita's Perspective

I was drifting in a deep, heavy cloud of exhaustion, my body feeling like it had been melted and reshaped. Every muscle was a dull ache of satisfaction, and my skin still felt the phantom heat of Rudra's touch. The scent of our passion-the chocolate, the crushed roses, and his masculine cologne-was the most beautiful lullaby I had ever known.

Suddenly, a sharp, distant sound pierced through my blissful fog.

*Ding... Dong...*

I groaned into the pillow, my **long curly hair** a tangled mess across my face. I tried to pull the duvet higher, but my arms felt like lead. The villa's doorbell was ringing at this ungodly hour. Who could it be? Laksh? Or perhaps the hotel staff with some early birthday surprise?

*Ding... Dong...*

It rang again, more insistent this time. It felt like a hammer against my sensitive, post-pleasure haze. I shifted slightly, feeling the soreness between my thighs and the tender weight of my breasts. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to leave the warmth of the man behind me.

"Ru..." I mumbled, my voice a raspy, sleep-thickened whisper. I reached back blindly, feeling the hard, muscular expanse of his chest still pressed against my back. "Ru... the bell... someone is at the door..."

I felt him stir, a low, vibrating hum of annoyance beginning in his throat as he was pulled from his own rare sleep. I didn't even wait to see if he opened his eyes. I just let out a soft, tired sigh and buried my face deeper into the crook of my elbow, the weight of the night finally pulling me back down into the dark, sweet depths of slumber.

"Handle it, *Patidev*..." I breathed out, my consciousness fading as I drifted back into a dream of silver mandirs and blue eyes.

I was so deep in my sleep that I didn't see him sit up, his **6'3" frame** casting a long, protective shadow over me as he looked at the door with a cold, princely glare, ready to destroy whoever dared to wake his sleeping wife.

The insistent ringing of the bell was like a needle pricking through my beautiful, heavy dream. I tried to ignore it, burrowing deeper into the silk pillows, but it just wouldn't stop. My body felt like it was made of lead, every inch of my skin tingling with the memory of Rudra's "no mercy" birthday celebration.

Slowly, I pushed myself up, my **long curly hair** falling over my face in a wild, tangled curtain. My eyes were half-shut, and my vision was blurry as I looked at the digital clock. It had been an hour since the last time that bell had disturbed us.

I turned toward the mountain of muscle beside me. Rudra was sprawled out, looking like a sleeping lion, his **ocean-blue eyes** closed and his chest rising and falling in a deep, peaceful rhythm.

"Ru..." I whined, my voice sounding like a small, broken kitten.

I reached out and jolted his shoulder, my fingers meeting the hard, warm skin I had scratched so many times just hours ago. He let out a low, guttural grunt but didn't open his eyes.

"Rudra! *Patidev*... please," I complained, shaking him again with whatever little strength I had left. "The bell... it's the third time. Someone is going to break the door. Go and check... please."

I didn't wait for his answer. I collapsed back onto my stomach, burying my face in the duvet, feeling the delicious soreness in my hips. I felt like a broken doll that had been put back together with love. I pulled the blanket up to my ears, hiding my bare, marked shoulders from the cool morning air.

"I'm not moving, Ru," I muffled into the pillow. "It's your birthday, you're the boss... go handle your guests."

I heard a deep, weary sigh from beside me. Then, the mattress shifted as his massive weight moved. I felt a ghost of a kiss on the back of my neck, followed by his low, sleep-roughed voice.

"You're lucky I love you more than my sleep, *Janna*," he rasped, his voice sounding incredibly dark and sexy in the quiet room. "Stay under the covers.

I heard his bare feet hit the floor, and the rustle of him I stayed exactly where I was, a small, warm lump under the blankets, listening to the **clinking of my chooda** as I adjusted my arm, waiting for him to deal with the world so I could go back to dreaming about him.

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I looked back at the bed one last time, my eyes softening as they lingered on the small, shivering heap under the duvet. My **Ishi** looked so vulnerable and precious, her **long curly hair** spilling over the pillows like a dark silken river. I leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her bare, marked back, feeling the heat of her skin-my brand, my possession.

I pulled on a pair of dark joggers and a black t-shirt, moving with the silent, predatory grace of a man who was about to snap someone's neck for disturbing his peace. I knew Ishita was possessive; she hated when any other eyes fell on my bare chest or muscles, so I covered up, but my mood was anything but hospitable.

Every step I took toward the door, my jaw tightened. Outside of these four walls, I was **Rudra Singh Rathor**-the cold-hearted Prince, the man who had built an empire on ruthlessness and emotionless calculation. To the world, I was a monster; only Ishita knew the man who could be brought to his knees by a single whisper of his name.

I reached the door and ripped it open with enough force to make the wood groan.

Standing there was a line of about six villa staff members, dressed in crisp uniforms, holding a massive gold-and-black cake, several bottles of vintage champagne, and a bouquet of lilies that was nearly as tall as the person holding it.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MONSIEUR RATHOR!" they chirped in unison, their voices echoing loudly through the hallway.

I didn't smile. I didn't even blink. My **ocean-blue eyes** were like shards of ice as I stared them down. The lead manager, a man who looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor, stepped forward with a trembling tray.

"We... we have a special Parisian breakfast and a tribute from the management, Monsieur. We wanted to celebrate your thirtieth-"

"You woke up my wife," I interrupted, my voice a low, dangerous growl that cut through their rehearsed cheer like a blade.

The silence that followed was instant. They all froze, the smile on the waitress's face dying a quick death. They were looking at the man who was ranked in the top five businessmen in the world, the 'Heartless Prince' of Rajasthan, and they realized they had made a grave mistake.

"Leave the trolley," I commanded, my tone cold and final. "All of it. Now. If I hear that bell ring one more time before noon, I will buy this entire hotel group just to fire everyone on this floor. Am I clear?"

"Y-yes, Monsieur! Deepest apologies!"

They scrambled to push the lavish breakfast trolley into the foyer and retreated as if the devil himself were chasing them. I didn't care about the cake. I didn't care about the champagne. I slammed the door shut and locked it, the 'ruthless denominator' side of me still humming with irritation.

I turned back toward the bedroom, my expression only beginning to melt when I thought of the woman waiting under the blankets. I looked at the trolley-it was covered in delicacies, but all I could think about was that she had been craving chocolate.

I walked back into the room, peeling off the t-shirt I had only put on for the staff's benefit. I wanted her to see only me.

"They're gone, *Janna*," I said, my voice returning to that deep, velvety rumble as I stepped toward the bed. "The world is gone. It's just us again."

I looked down at the masterpiece I had created last night. She was buried so deep under the duvet that only the top of her head was visible, her **long curly hair** creating a dark contrast against the white silk. A slow, predatory smirk curled my lips. It was my 30th birthday, and while the villa staff had brought food, the only thing I hungered for was the woman hiding under that blanket.

I slid back into bed, the cool air of the room hitting my chest before I dived under the covers to find her. I started with her temple, then moved to the shell of her ear, peppering her with light, butterfly kisses that I knew would drive her crazy.

"Wake up, *Janna*," I rumbled against her skin, my hand sliding under the duvet to find her waist.

She let out a long, pathetic groan, clutching the blanket to her chest as if her life depended on it. "Ru... no... not now," she whined, her voice muffled by the pillow. "You made me so tired last night... I am so sore, *Patidev*... aaaa no, no, no..."

"Sore, am I?" I teased, my fingers finding the sensitive skin of her ribs. I gave a light tickle, making her squirm and let out a breathless giggle despite her protest.

"Rudra! Stop! *Na... please!*"

I didn't stop. I pulled her back against me, hauling her small body until her bare back was flush against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her waist like iron bands, locking her into place. I caged her legs between mine, ensuring she couldn't wiggle away. Even though she was completely naked, I held her with such a possessive, protective grip that the vulnerability seemed to melt into a sense of belonging.

I buried my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of our shared night. I pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the mark I had left on her shoulder last night-a deep purple blossom against her **brown skin**.

"I know you're sore, Ishi," I whispered, my voice a dark, velvety thread. "But it's my birthday. Don't I get a morning greeting from my wife?"

I felt her relax against me, her breathing hitching as I trailed my lips up to her jawline. "You already got your greeting," she murmured, her hand reaching back to tangle in my hair. "Five times over, I think. You're a monster, Ru. A handsome, heartless monster."

"Only for you," I agreed, nipping at her earlobe. "The world gets the Prince. You get the man who can't breathe without you. Now, tell me... does the 'sore' Mrs. Rathor want me to carry her to the bath, or should I just keep you here until the sun goes down again?"

She turned slightly in my arms, her brown eyes peeking through her hair, looking dazed and beautiful. "The bath sounds nice," she whispered. "But only if you promise to be a gentleman this time."

I let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated through both our bodies. "I make no promises, *Janna*. You should know by now... when it comes to you, I have no self-control."

The transition from the warmth of the bed to the steam-filled sanctuary of the bathroom felt like a dream. Rudra didn't let my feet touch the cold floor for even a second; he carried me in his powerful arms, my head resting against his bare shoulder, as if I were the most fragile piece of jewelry Ahana had ever designed.

The jacuzzi was already prepared, the water topped with a thick layer of creamy bubbles and fresh crimson rose petals that floated like tiny boats. As he lowered me into the warm, swirling water, I let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. The heat hit my sore muscles, soothing the ache in my hips and the tenderness between my thighs that he had so dominantly claimed last night.

But I wasn't alone for long. The water displaced as Rudra stepped in behind me, his **6'3" muscular frame** making the large tub feel suddenly intimate.

"Better, *Janna*?" he murmured, his voice echoing off the marble walls.

He pulled me back against his chest, his large hands gathering a handful of bubbles and playfully spreading them over my shoulders, hiding the marks he had left only to reveal them again with his lips.

"Mmm, much better, *Patidev*," I whispered, leaning my head back against his damp shoulder. I reached for a sponge, but he took it from my hand, his gaze intense.

"No," he said, his **ocean-blue eyes** darkening with that familiar, possessive glint. "I told you I'd take care of you today. Every inch of you belongs to me, Ishi. That means I'm the only one allowed to touch you."

He began to wash me with agonizing slowness, the sponge gliding over my skin in a way that was more teasing than cleaning. He moved from my neck down to my breasts, his thumb grazing the peaks through the bubbles, making me gasp and arch my back.

"Ru... you said you'd be a gentleman," I panted, my hands splashing the water as I felt that familiar fire re-igniting in my belly.

"I am being a gentleman," he chuckled darkly, his breath hot against my wet ear. "A gentleman ensures his wife is... thoroughly satisfied. Besides, it's my birthday. If I want to spend it worshipping every curve of your body in a jacuzzi overlooking Paris, who's going to stop me?"

He pulled me around so I was facing him, my legs tangling with his under the bubbly water. He picked up a stray rose petal and traced the line of my collarbone with it, his eyes locked on mine.

"You look like a goddess in this light, Ishita," he rasped, his hand moving underwater to find my waist, pulling me flush against his hard, submerged chest. "Five years of waiting, three years of searching... and now you're here, wearing my name and my marks. Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

"I think I have an idea," I teased back, my courage returning as I splashed a bit of water at his face. "Considering you didn't let me sleep until the sun was almost up."

He caught my wrists, the **chooda clinking** underwater with a muffled, melodic sound. He pulled my hands up and kissed my palms, his eyes never leaving mine. "I could go for another five rounds, *Janna*. Your moans are a better celebration than any champagne those staff members brought."

"Rudra! You're incorrigible!" I laughed, the sound bright and clear against the steam.

He grinned-that rare, breathtaking smile that he saved only for me-and pulled me into a deep, soul-searing kiss that tasted of mint and pure, unadulterated passion. The 'Cold Prince' was nowhere to be found; there was only my husband, the man who had turned a winter morning in Paris into the hottest day of my life.

The steam rising from the jacuzzi blurred the edges of the world, leaving only the two of us in a cocoon of warmth and wet rose petals. I watched as she turned around in my arms, the bubbles clinging to her brown skin like pearls. When she wrapped her arms around my neck, her **chooda** clinking softly against the nape of my neck, I felt that familiar, heavy thrum of possessiveness tighten in my chest.

She leaned in, brushing her nose against mine in a sweet, Eskimo kiss that contrasted sharply with the raw, primal hunger of the night before. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the bathroom, the **Eiffel Tower** stood tall against the afternoon sky-a silent witness to our first morning as husband and wife in this city of love.

"Happy Birthday, Ru," she whispered, her brown eyes searching mine, still hazy with the remnants of sleep and pleasure. "I hope you liked your gift last night."

I let out a low, vibrating chuckle, my hands sliding beneath the water to find the curve of her waist. "The lingerie was a dangerous choice, *Janna*. You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew it would make me lose my mind."

"I wanted you to," she admitted, a playful, shy smile dancing on her lips. "I wanted the Cold Prince to melt just for me."

"Oh, he didn't just melt," I rasped, pulling her closer until her wet breasts were pressed firmly against my chest. "He burned to the ground."

I picked up a handful of bubbles and blew them at her nose, breaking the intensity with a flash of mischief. She gasped, her eyes widening before she splashed a wave of warm water right into my face.

"Rudra! You started it!" she giggled, her laughter echoing off the marble.

"I always finish what I start, Ishi," I countered, wiping the water from my eyes with a smirk.

I reached for the bottle of expensive hibiscus shampoo, pouring a bit into my palms. I began to work it into her **long curly hair**, my fingers massaging her scalp with a slow, deliberate pressure. The playfulness died down, replaced by a deep, quiet intimacy that felt even more sacred than the sex.

"Stay still," I murmured, my voice dropping an octave as I watched her eyes flutter shut. I leaned in, whispering against her ear. "Last night... when I went rough... when I forgot to be the 'gentleman' you asked for... why did you let me?"

She leaned her head back against my hands, the scent of the hibiscus filling the air. "Because I know you, Ru," she whispered back, her voice trembling slightly. "I know that the 'Prince' needs to claim what's his. And I know that no matter how rough you are, your heart is always gentle with me. I trust you with my body, even when you're trying to break it."

My heart did a slow, painful roll in my chest. I rinsed the soap from her hair with a gold pitcher, the water cascading down her back like a waterfall. I pulled her back into a hug, my chin resting on her wet shoulder as we both stared out at the Parisian skyline.

"I will never break you, Ishita," I promised, my hands tracing the flowers I had 'drawn' on her skin with chocolate the night before, now replaced by the faint, beautiful marks of my lips. "I'll only ever bend you... to remind you that you're the only person in this world who truly owns me."

"Even when you're a heartless businessman?" she teased, turning her head to kiss my jaw.

"Especially then," I growled, nipping at her shoulder. "Now, let's get you out of here before you turn into a raisin. I have a feeling the 'sore' Mrs. Rathor needs some real food before I decide to skip lunch and have a second dessert."

I stepped out of the steam, carrying her wrapped in a towel like the most precious treasure I had ever claimed. I laid her softly on the edge of the bed, the afternoon Parisian sun streaming through the windows and catching the gold of her **chooda**.

I didn't say a word as I reached for a jar of soothing, silk-finish cream. My expression was focused, the "Cold Prince" replaced by a man who was deeply, obsessively devoted to the woman before him. I took her small hands in mine, my thumbs tracing the faint, reddish imprints on her wrists-the evidence of how hard I had pinned her to the pillows during the second round.

"Does it hurt?" I rasped, my **ocean-blue eyes** lifting to hers with a rare flash of guilt.

"Only a little, Ru," she whispered, her voice like velvet. "It's a good kind of pain. It reminds me you were there."

I leaned down and kissed each wrist before gently massaging the cream into the skin. I moved with agonizing slowness, my large hands traveling to her waist, where my fingers had gripped her as I drove into her. I felt her shiver as I rubbed the cool lotion into her skin, my touch light and reverent. Finally, I moved to her thighs, massaging the sore muscles that had spent hours locked around my torso. Every touch was a silent apology, a promise that while I had been a beast last night, I would be her sanctuary today.

Once she was glowing and pampered, I pulled her into a single, oversized plush white robe. It swallowed her 5'3" frame, making her look even tinier and more adorable. I didn't let her walk; I scooped her up again, her **long curly hair** cascading over my arm, and carried her out to the balcony.

The sight was breathtaking. A private table was set with a lavish birthday lunch-truffle pasta, fresh food, -all with the **Eiffel Tower** standing guard in the background.

"Happy Birthday, my King," she murmured as I settled her into a chair and pulled my own close enough that our knees touched.

"Being with you is the only celebration I ever wanted, Ishi," I replied, pouring the champagne.

The afternoon was a blur of soft romance. We ate slowly, sharing bites and quiet laughs. I took out my phone, capturing candid photos of her-her messy curls, the way she looked in my oversized robe, her eyes sparkling with a happiness that hadn't been there during our three years apart. I took a selfie of us; my arm draped possessively around her, her head resting on my shoulder, with the Iron Lady of Paris shimmering behind us.

"Look at us," she said, leaning in to kiss my cheek, her **payals** tinkling as she kicked her feet playfully. "The ruthless Rudra Singh Rathor, having a quiet lunch on a balcony. What would the business world say?"

"They'd say I'm the luckiest man alive," I growled softly, pulling her onto my lap. I didn't care about the food anymore. I tucked a stray curl behind her ear and kissed her deeply-a slow, sweet kiss that tasted of strawberries and a lifetime of promises.

"I have a surprise for you , *Janna*,"

I watched her expression soften as I pecked her lips, the taste of lunch still lingering between us. Her brown eyes were wide with curiosity, reflecting the Parisian sky.

"I have something for you," I murmured, my voice dropping into that deep, possessive register that always made her breath hitch.

"What? Ru, it's a surprise?" she asked, her voice tilting up. Then she frowned playfully. "But it's *your* birthday, not mine! I'm supposed to be giving you the gifts."

I let out a low, dark chuckle, my hand sliding up her neck to cup her jaw. "I don't care, Ishi. Your happiness is the only gift I've ever wanted. Making you smile is my real celebration."

I stood up, leaving her for a brief moment to return with several sleek, high-end shopping bags and boxes from the most exclusive boutiques in Paris. When I set them down on the balcony floor, her jaw dropped.

"Omg... Ru!" She started opening them one by one. As the tissue paper rustled away, she pulled out a series of breathtaking **short dresses**-silks, velvets, and laces, all designed to hug her slim figure and show off those legs I had worshipped all night.

Her excitement suddenly flickered, replaced by a shadow of hesitation. She looked at the hemline of a deep emerald dress and then at me, her voice small. "Aap jaante ho... m-main yeh nahi pehan sakti, Ru. Mummy-Papa... and the family... I've always dressed the way they expected."

I sat back down, pulling her onto my lap so she was forced to look into my **ocean-blue eyes**. I tucked a wild curl behind her ear, my expression firm but filled with an intense, protective love.

"Hamesha sab ki baat manti ho, sabki wishes puri karti ho," I said, my voice a velvet growl of truth. "Kabhi kudh ke bare mein bhi soch liya karo, *Janna*. I know you, Ishi. I've seen the way you look at these styles in magazines. I know you love them and want to wear them, but you've always held back because of Papa and mummy."

I gripped her waist, bringing her closer until our noses touched. "But you're a Rathor now. You're the wife of Rudra Singh Rathor. In my world, the only person you have to please is yourself... and maybe me. Yahan Paris mein, koi dekhne wala nahi hai. Here, you can be exactly who you want to be."

She bit her lip, looking down at the beautiful fabrics. "Sach mein? You won't mind?"

"Mind?" I laughed darkly, my hand sliding down to the bare skin of her thigh revealed by the robe. "I want the whole world to see how beautiful my wife is, even if I'll have to kill any man who looks for too long. Wear them for me Ishita. Wear them because you've spent your whole life being 'perfect' for everyone else. And just be mine."

She smiled, a real, radiant glow spreading across her face as she hugged the emerald silk to her chest. "Thank you, *Patidev*... ."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I felt a rush of nervous excitement. For years, I had modeled for others, wearing what I was told, behaving how I was expected. But today, under the heavy, possessive gaze of my 'Cold Prince,' I felt a different kind of fire.

The suite became my private runway. Rudra sat back on the plush velvet sofa, a glass of juice in his hand, his **6'3" frame** relaxed but his **ocean-blue eyes** tracking my every move like a predator.

"Chalo, *Janna*," he challenged, a smirk playing on his lips. "Show me what Paris looks like on you."

I stepped out of the dressing room in the emerald green silk slip dress. It ended mid-thigh, showing off my legs, and the thin straps sat precariously on my shoulders. I did a slow, practiced ramp walk toward him, . I did a graceful turn, letting the silk swish against my skin.

"Ishi..." Rudra's voice dropped an octave, his glass pausing halfway to his lips. "That color... it makes your skin look like gold. But it's too dangerous. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you for five minutes in public."

I ran back and changed into a black lace mini-dress. It was daring, with a scalloped hem and a low back that exposed the marks he'd left on my spine. I walked toward him, swaying my hips, my **long curly hair** bouncing. I stopped right in front of him, leaning down so my hair brushed his knees.

"This one?" I teased, biting my lip.

He reached out, his large hand gripping my waist, pulling me between his knees. "This one is for a private dinner, *Janna*. If you wear this outside, I'll have to spend my whole birthday fighting off every man in France. Try the next one."

Finally, I stepped out in a ruby-red velvet wrap dress. It was elegant yet bold, hugging my slim figure perfectly. It had long sleeves but a hemline that hit just above my knees-a perfect balance of a Rathor daughter-in-law and a Parisian queen.

I did a final ramp walk, ending with a playful twirl and a flying kiss. My **chooda** clinked loudly, the red bangles matching the dress perfectly.

Rudra stood up, his height looming over me. He didn't say anything at first; he just walked around me slowly, his eyes burning with a mix of pride and raw desire. He stopped behind me, his hands sliding over my waist, pulling me back against his hard chest.

"This is it," he whispered into my ear, his breath hot. "The Ruby Queen. You look breathtaking, Ishita. Everyone in Paris will know exactly who you belong to."

"Happy Birthday again, Ru," I whispered, leaning my head back against his shoulder.

"Let's go, Mrs. Rathor," he growled playfully, nipping my earlobe. "Before I change my mind and cancel our reservations to keep you in this suite forever."

I laughed at his expression as I pulled him back down onto the plush sofa. "Wait, birthday boy, you haven't received your full 'thank you' yet," I whispered.

I began my "kiss treatment," starting with his temple, then his jaw, and moving to that pulsing vein in his neck that always drove me crazy. I peppered his face with soft, lingering pecks, my **long curly hair** falling like a curtain around us, shielding the world away. I felt his large hands settle on my waist, his grip tightening in appreciation as he let out a low, satisfied hum.

"I could get used to this treatment every morning, *Janna*," he rasped, his **ocean-blue eyes** heavy with affection. "Best birthday gift ever."

"Thanks for the dresses, Ru. Really. No one has ever encouraged me to just... be me like this," I said, pulling back slightly to look at him. "But since we're in the fashion capital of the world, can we do a bit more shopping? For us... and for the family?"

Rudra raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Shopping for the family? On *our* honeymoon?"

"Just a little!" I pleaded, pouting my lips. "A stylish suit for Akshat bhai, something elegant for Dhristi, jewelry for Ahana, and maybe some cute French outfits for little Krish. And of course, something for Papa, Mumma, and the elders. Please?"

Rudra let out a weary but indulgent sigh, the kind only I could extract from the 'Cold Prince.' He stood up, lifting me with him as if I weighed nothing.

"Only you would think about others while sitting in a luxury suite in Paris, Ishi," he murmured, kissing the tip of my nose. "Fine. We'll hit Avenue Montaigne. I'll get Vardaan a tie he won't hate, and we can find something for Reet too. But on one condition."

"What?" I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck, my **chooda clinking** against his skin.

"For every bag we buy for them, I get to buy two more for you," he bargained, his voice dropping into that dominant, possessive tone. "I want to see you in every color Paris has to offer. Deal?"

"Deal!" I squealed, planting a loud, messy kiss on his cheek.