Rudra's Perspective

Seeing her tears was like watching my own soul bleed. Every time a drop fell from those beautiful brown eyes, it felt as if someone was stabbing me in the heart with a jagged sword, twisting the blade with every sob she took. I hated her tears—even the happy ones—because they reminded me of the three years I wasn't there to wipe them away.

"Don't," I rasped, my voice thick with an agonizing mix of love and fury at the past. "Don't ever apologize for hating me then, Ishi. I deserved it for leaving you in the dark, even if it was to keep you breathing. But don't you ever talk about dying. You are the only reason I’m still human. If you go, there is no Rudra Singh Rathor left—only a monster."

I couldn't let her say another word. I needed to seal this, to drown out the ghosts of the past with the reality of our present. I leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss that started with a desperate, raw intensity. It was a vow. It was a prayer. It was a claim.

Under the heavy cashmere blanket, the cold Parisian night disappeared. I pulled her onto my lap on the swing, her **5'3" frame** feeling so fragile yet so perfect against me. The emotional weight of her words transformed into a physical hunger that was deeper and more soul-consuming than anything we had felt so far.

"You're never going anywhere," I whispered against her mouth, my **ocean-blue eyes** burning with an obsessive fire. "I'm keeping you so close that the world won't know where I end and you begin."

I carried her back inside, not even bothering to turn on the lights. The moonlight was enough. I laid her on the bed we had already stained with our love, and this time, there was no teasing, no "Cold Prince" persona. There was only a man worshiping the woman who saved him.

The intimacy was slow, deep, and heavy with emotion. Every time I moved inside her, I watched her face, memorizing the way she looked when she was completely mine. Her **chooda clinked** rhythmically, sounding like a heartbeat in the silent room. This wasn't just about pleasure; it was about healing.

"I love you, Ru... please... never let go," she cried out, her voice a beautiful, broken melody as I drove deep, anchoring her to me.

"Never," I groaned, my **6'3" muscular frame** trembling with the effort to stay slow, to make her feel every bit of my devotion. "You are my life, Ishita. My everything."

We stayed awake until the early hours of January 10th, blending our bodies and souls into one. By the time the first hint of dawn touched the Paris skyline, she was fast asleep in my arms, her face peaceful, her skin marked by my love. I stayed awake just a little longer, watching her breathe, knowing that today we were going back to India—but we were going back as a force that nothing, and no one, could ever break again.

The morning of January 10th arrived with a bittersweet chill. I woke up first, watching the Parisian sun hit the marks I’d left on Ishita’s shoulders. She was still deep in sleep, exhausted from the emotional and physical intensity of our last night. I didn't let her move an inch; I drew her a warm bath, helped her dress in a soft, comfortable silk co-ord set, and brushed her **long curly hair** myself. Every touch was a claim, a silent promise that the care she received in this villa would continue for the rest of our lives.

Laksh, my head of security, arrived on time. I saw him glance at us as he took the bags, but one sharp look from my **ocean-blue eyes** made him lower his gaze instantly. I wrapped a designer silk scarf around Ishita’s neck, carefully tucking it to hide the dark purple brands I’d left there.

"I don't want anyone else seeing these, *Janna*," I whispered into her ear, my hands lingering on the silk. "These are for my eyes only."

"Ru... everyone will know why I'm wearing a scarf " she teased, though she leaned into my chest, her **chooda clinking** as she adjusted her sunglasses.

As we reached the private terminal, my "Cold Prince" persona settled back over my features like a mask. I kept my arm firmly around her waist, pulling her flush against my **6'3" muscular frame** as we walked toward the jet. Even at the private terminal, a few staff members and photographers were lingering. I felt the familiar surge of territorial rage when I noticed a few men staring at her.

I didn't say a word. I simply tightened my grip on her waist and shot a look so cold it could have frozen the tarmac. I felt Ishita giggle softly against my side.

"Stop scaring the staff, *Patidev*," she murmured.

"They should know better than to look at what belongs to a Rathor," I rasped, guiding her up the stairs of our private jet.

Once the cabin doors hissed shut and we were airborne, the tension in my shoulders finally bled away. The "honeymoon bubble" hadn't popped yet; I wasn't going to let it. I unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled her onto my lap in the oversized leather armchair.

"Ru! Someone might come in," she gasped, her face flushing a beautiful shade of pink.

"It’s my jet, Ishi. No one enters without my permission," I said, my voice dropping into that dominant, playful register she loved. I began to trace the line of her jaw with my thumb. "We still have hours before we land in Delhi. Hours where I don't have to share you with our families."

I leaned down, stealing a slow, deep kiss that tasted of the coffee we’d shared earlier. "I’m already missing the villa. I’m missing the way you screamed my name on that terrace."

"You're shameless," she whispered, her hands finding the back of my neck, her fingers playing with the hair there. "But I miss it too. It felt like... like the world didn't exist."

"The world only exists because you're in it," I replied, pulling a warm blanket over both of us as the jet leveled out at thirty thousand feet. I held her close, watching the clouds pass by, realizing that while Rajasthan was waiting for its Prince and Princess, I was already exactly where I wanted to be.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The moment we stepped through the grand doors of the Rathor villa in Delhi, the familiar scent of sandalwood and expensive perfume greeted me. The house was bustling; I could see some of the Rathor men in the far wing, likely in the study discussing business—probably **Akshat** and **Vardaan** already deep into some corporate strategy. But the foyer was occupied by the heartbeat of the family.

"Our *Bhabhi* is back!" **Ahana** squealed, being the first to run toward me.

I laughed, the sound of my **chooda clinking** echoing through the marble hall as I hugged her tightly. One by one, I was pulled into the warm embraces of the ladies. **siya Maa** and **Urmila Chachi** greeted me with such motherly love that for a second, the exhaustion of the flight vanished.

"Let me look at you, Ishu," Urmila Chachi said, cupping my face. She pulled back and smiled knowingly. "The Paris air clearly suited you. You’re absolutely glowing, *beta*."

"It's not just the air, maa" **Reet** teased, leaning against the pillar with a playful smirk.  she had a sharp eye for detail. "Our *Bhabhi* looks like she hasn't slept in ten days but somehow looks more beautiful than ever. *Honeymoon ka asar toh dikh raha hai.*" (The honeymoon effect is visible.)

I felt my cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson. I glanced back at **Rudra**, who was standing right behind me like a silent, towering shadow. He didn't look embarrassed at all; in fact, he looked incredibly smug, his **ocean-blue eyes** glinting with pride as he kept a possessive hand on the small of my back.

"Stop teasing my wife," Rudra said, his voice a deep rumble. "She’s tired from the journey."

"Oh, we can see how 'tired' she is, *Bhai*," Ahana giggled. She stepped closer to me, pretending to adjust my silk scarf. As she moved the fabric slightly, her eyes widened and then danced with mischief. She caught sight of the dark purple mark Rudra had left near my collarbone—the one he’d tried so hard to hide.

She leaned in and whispered just loud enough for the other girls to hear, "Wow, *Ishu Bhabhi*... I didn't know Paris had such big mosquitoes. That’s a very... *specific* mark." She gave me a slow, wicked wink.

"Ahana!" I hissed, pulling the scarf back into place, my heart racing.

"What?" she said innocently, turning to the others. "I’m just saying, Rudra Bhai clearly didn't let her see much of the Eiffel Tower if they were busy... *exploring* other things."

**Dhristi**, joined in, holding little **Krish** in her arms. "Well, he is a Rathor, Ahana. When they claim something, they make sure the whole world knows. Isn't that right, Rudra bhai ?"

Rudra just stepped forward, pulling me even closer to his **6'3" muscular frame**, completely unfazed by the banter. "If you all are done interrogating her, I’d like to take my wife to our room. She needs rest."

"Rest? Or more 'mosquito bites'?" Reet joked, making the whole group erupt in laughter.

"Go, go," siya Maa said, shooing us away with a smile. "Go freshen up. I've asked the cook to make Ishita's favorite dishes for dinner."

As Rudra led me up the grand staircase, his hand never leaving my waist, I could still hear them whispering and giggling below. I leaned into him, whispering, "I told you they'd find out, *Patidev*. Your marks are impossible to hide."

"Let them talk, *Janna*," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous as we reached the privacy of our door. "They should know that even back in India, you belong entirely to me."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The evening sun began to dip below the horizon, and the quiet of the villa was shattered as the heavy front doors swung open. I heard the familiar, confident stride of my brothers before I saw them. **Akshat**, **Vardaan**, and **Jay** walked in, still trailing the scent of the boardroom and the outdoors.

I was standing in the lounge, leaning against the mahogany archway with my arms crossed over my chest, watching **Ishita** talk to the ladies. My **ocean-blue eyes** never really left her. She looked so small and delicate in our massive home, yet she was the only reason the air felt breathable.

"Look who finally decided to come back to reality," **Akshat** called out, his voice booming as he walked over to clasp my shoulder. My co-CEO and brother had a sharp, knowing look in his eyes. "I thought we were going to have to send a search party to the Eiffel Tower to drag the Prince of Rajasthan back to his desk."

"He wouldn't have been at the tower, Akshat bhai ," **Vardaan** chimed in, adjusting his lawyer’s cufflinks with a smirk. "Knowing Rudra, he probably didn't leave the villa for ten days straight. Look at him—he looks far too relaxed. It’s suspicious."

I didn't say a word. I just let a dark, slow smirk spread across my face—the kind of look that confirmed every single one of their suspicions without me having to utter a syllable. I enjoyed the silence; I enjoyed the fact that they knew exactly how I’d spent my time.

"Bhai is glowing more than Bhabhi!" **Jay** laughed, throwing a football up and down. "Ishu Bhabhi, how did you survive him? He looks like he’s ready to conquer another three companies just from the energy he got in Paris."

Ishita turned bright red, her **chooda clinking** as she nervously tucked a strand of her **long curly hair** behind her ear. "Jay... it was... we just had a nice time," she stammered.

"A 'nice' time?" **Akshat** laughed, walking over to Ishita and giving her a side-hug. "Ishu bhabhi  the scarf is a dead giveaway. and you’re wrapped up like you’re in the Arctic. Rudra, you’re a savage. Give the poor girl a break."

I pushed off the wall, my **6'3" frame** looming over the group as I walked toward my wife. I saw her eyes widen as I approached. I didn't care that my brothers were watching; I didn't care that the ladies were giggling in the corner. I reached out, my hand settling firmly and possessively on the nape of her neck, my thumb stroking the edge of that silk scarf.

"She’s my wife," I said, my voice a deep, territorial rumble that silenced the room for a heartbeat. "I’ll mark what’s mine as I see fit. If you have a problem with the scarf, Akshat, feel free to take it up with the Board of Directors tomorrow morning."

"Whoa, easy Tiger!" Vardaan raised his hands in mock surrender. "The 'Cold Prince' is back, and he’s clearly very protective of his 'Janna'."

Under the cover of the family’s laughter, I leaned down, my lips brushing against Ishita’s ear. "You're doing a terrible job of hiding those blushes, *Biwi-ji*," I whispered, my breath hot against her skin. "They can tease all they want, but they don't know the half of what happened in that villa."

I felt her hand reach back and pinch my side, but I didn't flinch. I just pulled her closer to my side, my arm a heavy, warm weight around her shoulders.

"Rudra bhai, leave her alone for five minutes!" **Dhristi** called out, laughing as she held little **Krish**. "Let her come help us with the dinner preparations."

"No," I replied simply, my smirk deepening. "She’s with me. We have ten days of family news to catch up on, and I’m not letting her out of my sight just yet."

I led her toward the garden glass house, away from the noise for just a moment. As soon as the doors closed, I pinned her against the glass, my hands framing her head.

"Ru! They're right there!" she gasped, her heart hammering against my chest.

"They can't see through the tint, Love," I rasped, capturing her lips in a quick, bruisingly possessive kiss. "Welcome home, Ishita. But remember—even in this house full of people, you are still in my bubble."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The chaos of the day had finally settled, and the heavy doors of our bedroom were locked, shutting out the rest of the Rathor clan. I was sprawled half on top of Rudra’s massive, warm chest, the silk of my nightgown slipping against his bare skin. My **chooda clinked** softly with every movement, a constant reminder of our new reality.

I looked down at him, tracing the sharp, "Greek god" lines of his face. He looked so relaxed, his **ocean-blue eyes** heavy with a satisfied, dark heat as he watched me. But I wasn't going to let him off that easily.

I raised my hand and gave his shoulder a playful, slow slap, then another one on his chest. "You are such a traitor, Ru!" I pouted, leaning my chin on my hands right over his heart. "I was standing there, dying of embarrassment while Ahana and Reet were practically performing an autopsy on my neck with their eyes, and what did you do? You just stood there with that arrogant, 'Cold Prince' smirk!"

He let out a low, vibrating chuckle that rumbled right through my body. His large hands settled on my waist, pulling me higher up so our faces were inches apart.

"I didn't hear you complaining when I was making those marks, *Janna*," he teased, his voice a deep, bedroom rasp.

"That's not the point, *Patidev*!" I slapped his chest again, though it felt more like a caress. "You’re supposed to protect me! You say 'Ishi is my life,' 'Ishi is my obsession,' *aye bade 'pyaar karta hoon' bolne wale!* (Oh, look at Mr. 'I love you so much!') But when your sisters started talking about 'Paris mosquitoes,' you just let them roast me! You didn't even try to defend my honor."

I huffed, turning my face away in a mock 'naraaz' (angry) pose, though I couldn't stop the smile tugging at my lips.

Rudra’s grip tightened, and in one fluid, dominant motion, he rolled us over. Now, I was pinned into the plush mattress with his **6'3" muscular frame** looming over me, trapping me in the heat of his shadow. He caught both my wrists in one of his large hands, pinning them above my head—just like he had in the villa.

"You want me to protect you from a little teasing?" he whispered, his nose brushing against mine, his eyes darkening into that possessive, "King" look. "Ishi, the whole world knows I’d kill for you. But why would I protect you from the truth? Every mark on your skin is my signature. I *wanted* them to know you spent every second of those ten days in my arms."

"You're shameless, Rudra Singh Rathor," I breathed, my heart starting to race again. "Completely, utterly shameless."

"Only for you," he murmured, leaning down to press a lingering, hot kiss to the sensitive spot behind my ear. "And since you think I didn't 'protect' you enough downstairs, maybe I should give you something else to worry about tomorrow morning. If you thought the 'mosquito' comments were bad today, wait until they see what I have planned for tonight."

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, my frustration melting into the familiar, addictive hunger only he could provoke. "You think you can just kiss your way out of trouble?"

"I don't need to kiss my way out," he rasped, his lips ghosting over mine. "I'm the King of this house, and you're the Queen. And right now, the King wants his tribute."

I looked at him, my eyes narrowing playfully even as my heart did that familiar, traitorous flip at the intensity in his gaze. He still had my wrists pinned, his **6'3" frame** a heavy, warm mountain above me. I wiggled slightly, trying to get one hand free to poke his chest again.

"Oh, so the 'King' thinks he can just silence me with a look?" I whispered, my voice caught between a giggle and a gasp. "All that talk in Paris about how you'd be my shield... and the first day back, you threw me to the wolves! **Akshat Bhai** was laughing, **Vardaan** was smirking, and you just stood there like you’d won a trophy. *Bade aaye 'I can't live without you' kehne wale.* (Look at the one who says 'I can't live without you'.) If you really loved me, you would have told them I caught a cold and had a sore throat!"

Rudra’s smirk softened, turning into something much more dangerous—something tender. He released my wrists, but instead of pulling away, he slid his large hands down to cup my face, his thumbs tracing the line of my lower lip.

"A cold, Ishi?" he murmured, his **ocean-blue eyes** searching mine. "I'm a terrible liar when it comes to you. How could I tell them you were sick when you’re glowing like a star? How could I tell them I didn't spend every night worshipping you when it's written all over my face?"

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine. The playful banter started to melt away, replaced by a thick, heavy silence that felt like the velvet nights we’d just left behind in France. My hands, finally free, didn't slap him this time. They climbed up his chest, feeling the steady, powerful thud of his heart against my palms.

"You really are too much for me, Ru," I breathed, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. "Sometimes I think you love me so much it's scary. Like you're trying to consume me."

"I am," he admitted, his voice a low, raw confession. He shifted his weight, pulling me into his arms and rolling us until I was tucked securely against his side, my head on his shoulder. He pulled the silk duvet over us, but his touch remained restless, his hand stroking my arm with a possessive rhythm. "I spent three years starving for the sight of you, Ishi. Do you think a ten-day honeymoon was enough to satisfy that? I want to spend the next fifty years making sure you never have to wonder if you’re loved."

He turned his head and kissed my temple, his lips lingering there. "When I let them tease you today, it wasn't because I didn't want to protect you. It was because for the first time in years, I saw you laughing with my family. I saw you back where you belong—in the middle of the Rathor madness, being loved by everyone. I just wanted to stand back and watch my world be whole again."

The teasing words I had prepared died in my throat. I looked up at him, seeing the raw vulnerability he only ever showed me. My **chooda clinked** as I reached up to stroke his jaw, my thumb grazing the spot where I had bitten him in the tub.

"You're a very manipulative man, Rudra Singh Rathor," I whispered, my eyes stinging with happy tears. "You use all this deep talk just so I'll stop being mad at you."

"Is it working?" he asked, a small, genuine smile breaking through his 'Cold Prince' mask.

"Yes," I sighed, snuggling deeper into his chest, the scent of his expensive cologne and warm skin acting like a drug. "But if Ahana mentions 'mosquitoes' at breakfast tomorrow, I’m telling everyone you’re the one who’s afraid of spiders."

He let out a loud, bark of a laugh, the sound echoing in our private sanctuary. "Deal, *Janna*. Now, sleep. We have a long day tomorrow, and I plan on being very 'distracting' before you leave for your first makeup project."

I closed my eyes, feeling his heartbeat under my ear, knowing that no matter how much we teased or how loud the world got, this quiet, intense romance was the real heart of our story.

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The digital clock on the bedside table hadn't even flickered to 4:00 AM before the subtle, low-frequency hum of my alarm started. It’s a habit etched into my DNA—a strict, disciplined routine that built the man I am today. I reached out a hand, silenced it instantly, and took a moment to just breathe in the scent of the room.

I looked down at the woman tangled in the sheets beside me. I was glad I’d suppressed this part of myself in Paris; the only workout I wanted there was her. But back in Delhi, the "Cold Prince" had to maintain the armor.

Ishita stirred slightly, the sound of my movement pulling her from the depths of sleep. She didn't open her eyes, but she reached out instinctively, her fingers searching for me.

"Ru..." she mumbled, her voice thick and honeyed with sleep. "Gym? Already?"

"Go back to sleep, *Janna*," I whispered, leaning over her. I watched the way her **long curly hair** was spread across my pillow—a beautiful, chaotic contrast to my orderly life. I saw her small, sleepy smile, knowing she wasn't going to try to stop me because she respected the hustle that kept the Rathor empire standing.

I leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering peck to her forehead, then her cheek, and finally a butterfly kiss on the tip of her nose. "I’ll be back in two hours to wake you up properly."

"Mmm... you’re a machine," she sighed, her **chooda clinking** as she pulled the duvet up to her chin, burying herself in the warmth I was leaving behind.

I stood up, my **6'3" muscular frame** feeling the slight ache from the past ten days—a delicious reminder of every night spent worshipping her. I pulled on my black gym gear, the fabric stretching across my shoulders and chest. I took one last look at her—my wife, my heart—sleeping peacefully in our bed, before I quietly slipped out of the room and headed toward my private gym wing.

The gym was cold and silent, a stark contrast to the heat of our bedroom. I stepped onto the treadmill to warm up, my mind already shifting gears. The honeymoon was over, but the fire it ignited wasn't going anywhere. As I started my high-intensity lifting circuit, the rhythmic thud of the weights felt like a countdown.

Every rep, every drop of sweat was for her. I needed the strength to protect the world I had built around her. I looked at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors—the **ocean-blue eyes** were back to being sharp and calculating, but there was a new light in them.

*Two hours,* I thought, gripping the pull-up bar until my **veins popped** in my forearms. *Two hours of discipline, and then I get to go back and wake up my Queen.* I pushed my body to its absolute limit, the "Cold Prince" reclaiming his throne in the silence of the dawn, but my heart was still upstairs, tucked under a silk duvet with a girl who called me "Ru."

In the sterile, grey light of the gym, I pushed myself with a ferocity that bordered on clinical. Every time I added more weight to the bar, I thought of the three years I had been a shell of a man. Now, every drop of sweat felt like a sacrifice at the altar of our future. I hit the bench press, my **6'3" muscular frame** straining as I repped out heavy sets, the **veins popping** in my neck and forearms.

The "Cold Prince" was back in his element—discipline, power, and silence. But even as I crushed a high-intensity circuit, my mind was a traitor. Every time I closed my eyes to push through the final rep, I saw her. I saw the way she looked under the Parisian moonlight; I heard the melodic clink of her **chooda**. That was my real fuel. I wasn't just maintaining my body; I was building a fortress to keep her safe.

By 6:00 AM, my muscles were pumped, a thin sheen of sweat covering my skin. I took a quick, freezing shower in the gym wing, barely toweling my hair dry before I made my way back to our sanctuary.

The room was silent, Ishita was exactly where I’d left her, but she’d shifted in her sleep. She was lying on her stomach now, her face turned toward my side of the bed. The duvet had slipped slightly, revealing the smooth, **brown skin** of her back and the dark, tangled mess of her **long curly hair**.

She looked so peaceful—vulnerable and utterly mine.

I sat on the edge of the mattress, the bed dipping under my weight. I didn't say a word. I just watched her breathe for a moment, the predatory possessiveness I usually reserved for the boardroom melting into a soft, aching devotion.

I leaned over her, my shadow falling across her back. I started by brushing the curls away from her neck, exposing the faint, fading marks I’d left. I pressed a cold, wet kiss to her shoulder blade, making her stir.

"Mmm... Ru?" she murmured into the pillow, her voice a tiny, sleepy vibration.

"Wake up, *Janna*," I whispered, my voice a deep, gravelly rumble. I let my hand slide under the blanket, my palm flat against the small of her back, feeling the warmth of her skin. "The sun is up, and I have a very busy day ahead of me. I need my morning fuel."

"Go away... five more minutes..." she grumbled, trying to wiggle deeper into the mattress.

I let out a low chuckle, my hand moving lower to grip her hip, pulling her closer to me despite her mock resistance. "I don't think you understand, *Biwi-ji*. I've just spent two hours in the gym getting my heart rate up. If you think I'm letting you sleep while I'm this... distracted... you're very mistaken."

I began to trail kisses up the side of her neck, my stubble grazing her soft skin. I knew exactly how to wake her up. I knew the spots that made her breath hitch and her toes curl under the silk sheets.

"Rudra... you’re all cold... and you smell like soap," she whispered, finally opening those beautiful, drowsy brown eyes. She turned her head to look at me, a sleepy, beautiful smile spreading across her face. "Is this how the great Rudra Singh Rathor starts his business day? By bullying his wife?"

"Not bullying," I corrected, my **ocean-blue eyes** darkening as I hovered over her, pinning her down with my weight. "Worshipping. There’s a difference."

I felt a sudden tug on my shirt as Ishita’s strength—surprising for her small frame—pulled me backward. I let out a low "oomph" of surprise as I hit the mattress, and before I could react, she dragged the heavy duvet and herself right on top of me.

She curled into my chest like a kitten seeking warmth, burying her cold nose into the crook of my neck. I felt her small hands clutching my shoulders, her **chooda clinking** against my skin as she shivered slightly, trying to steal every bit of my body heat.

"Bhout thand h Ru..." she murmured, her voice muffled against my skin, sounding so tiny and precious. "Aap itni subha subha kese uth jate ho... fir workout and shower... (It’s so cold, Ru... how do you get up so early... then workout and shower...)"

I let out a deep, rumbling chuckle that vibrated through my chest and directly into her. My large arms wrapped around her instantly, pinning her against my **6'3" muscular frame**, making sure not a single inch of cold air could reach her.

"Discipline, *Janna*," I whispered, my voice thick with affection as I stroked the length of her **long curly hair**. "In my world, if you're not moving before the sun, you're already behind. But," I tightened my grip, pulling the blanket over both of our heads until we were in a dark, warm cocoon, "even the 'Cold Prince' starts to doubt his routine when he has a wife who looks like this in the morning."

I felt her smile against my neck. She snuggled deeper, her legs intertwining with mine. "Mmm, your heart is beating so fast," she whispered. "Is that from the gym or from me?"

"What do you think, *Biwi-ji*?" I rasped, my **ocean-blue eyes** adjusting to the dim light under the duvet. I shifted her slightly so I could look at her face. She looked so soft, her **brown skin** glowing even in the shadows. "The gym prepares my body, but you? You're the one who keeps the engine running. I could run a hundred miles and my heart wouldn't pound as hard as it does when you look at me like that."

"Pati-dev, you've become such a poet in Paris," she teased, finally opening her eyes to look at me, her gaze filled with a love that made all my discipline feel like a secondary priority.

"I'm not a poet, Ishi. I'm a man who knows exactly what he wants," I said, my hand sliding down to the small of her back, pulling her hips flush against mine. "And right now, I don't care about the board meetings or the Rathor Company. I just want to stay under this blanket and pretend the world doesn't exist for another hour."

"But my project..." she started to protest weakly, though her hands were already wandering over the muscles of my arms, admiring the results of my morning workout.

"The world can wait for the Princess," I commanded softly, my lips seeking hers. "But your King has been waiting since 4:00 AM for this."

Under the heavy, dark cocoon of the duvet, the rest of the world—the cold Delhi winter, the staff waiting downstairs, the millions of dollars in deals—simply ceased to exist. There was only the scent of her vanilla hair and the rhythmic sound of her **chooda clinking** as she began her morning ritual.

I lay back, surrendering completely to her touch. Her small, soft hands began to caress my face, her fingertips tracing the sharp, "Greek god" lines of my jaw and the ridge of my cheekbones as if she were memorizing me all over again. She started pressing soft, lingering kisses all over my face—my forehead, my closed eyelids, the bridge of my nose.

"Vese..." she started, her voice a sweet, velvety whisper against my skin.

"Hmm?" I grunted softly, my eyes half-closed, a rare, relaxed smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"Mera pati handsome to bhout h..." she murmured, pausing to kiss the corner of my lips, "...aur hot bhi." (My husband is very handsome... and very hot too.)

I felt a surge of heat that had nothing to do with the gym. My **ocean-blue eyes** snapped open, catching her gaze in the dim light. I reached up, my large hand covering both of hers as I pinned them against my chest, right over my heart.

"Sirf handsome aur hot, *Biwi-ji*?" I teased, my voice dropping into that dark, gravelly register. "I thought I was 'too much' for you last night. Now I’m just a piece of eye candy?"

She giggled, a beautiful, bubbly sound that filled our little sanctuary. She leaned down, her **long curly hair** falling like a curtain around us, and nipped playfully at my chin. "You know you are. All those girls at the parties who used to stare at the 'Cold Prince' from a distance... they’d fainted if they saw you like this. All soft and warm under a blanket."

"I'm only soft for you, Ishi," I rasped, my grip on her waist tightening as I pulled her even closer, if that was even possible. "To the rest of the world, I'm still the man who’ll ruin them before breakfast. But in here? In this bed? I am just your Ru. And your Ru is very tempted to skip every meeting today just to hear you call him 'hot' a few more times."

I rolled us over with a sudden, playful surge of energy, pinning her beneath me while keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around us. I looked down at her flushed, beautiful face, her **brown eyes** wide with a mix of love and mischief.

"Since you think I'm so 'hot'," I murmured, my lips ghosting over hers, "maybe you should help me cool down. Or better yet... maybe you should see just how 'hot' I can get when my wife starts flirting with me at 6:30 in the morning."

"Rudra! We really have to go down!" she gasped, though her arms were already winding around my neck, pulling me closer.

"Five minutes, *Janna*," I promised, my voice a low, possessive vow. "The Rathor empire won't crumble in five minutes. But my patience might."