💖 Ishita's Perspective

Before Laksh could even call for security, the icy, corporate atmosphere I had just created shattered, replaced by something much more dangerous-the wrath of an absolute perfectionist house-matron.

I didn't leave the room. Instead, my brown eyes narrowed as I took a deep, deliberate breath, my nose wrinkling in immediate disgust. The heavy, rich scent of leather and sandalwood was completely suffocating under a thick, stale layer of burnt nicotine.

"And why the hell does this room smell like tobacco?" I demanded, my voice snapping through the tense silence like a whip.

I stepped away from the center of the table, my silver *payals* giving off a sharp, angry *chan-chan* as I looked at the remaining delegation.

"Who is smoking here?" I asked, my gaze scanning the mahogany surface until it locked onto a crystal ash-tray subtly hidden behind a stack of infrastructure blueprints right in front of Singhania and one of his junior foreign associates.

The room went entirely dead silent. Akshat immediately bit his lower lip, desperately trying to suppress a smirk, while Ram Papa and Lakhan Chacha suddenly found the ceiling molding incredibly fascinating.

"Because I know for a fact that a Rathor *never* smokes," I continued, crossing my arms over my chest, the diamonds of my *mangalsutra* catching the light as I glared at the culprits. "Rudra doesn't touch it, Akshat doesn't touch it, and Papa Ji has strict medical orders to stay away from secondhand smoke. So... who allowed you to smoke inside this private workspace?"

Singhania, who was already pale from having his entire firm blacklisted two seconds ago, looked completely paralyzed as I stood over his side of the table. His junior associate frantically tried to slide a gold lighter into his pocket, his hands shaking.

"Ranisa... it was just a formal cigar during the intermission..." the junior associate stammered out, his face turning white under my gaze. "We didn't think..."

"You didn't think?" I cut him off, my voice dropping into a dangerously calm, razor-sharp edge. "This is a royal heritage palace, not a local commercial lounge. This room is completely soundproofed and sealed for biometric security-meaning there is zero ventilation for your toxic habits. Not only is it an insult to our house rules, but you are actively sitting next to my father-in-law who literally just took his heart medicine in front of you."

I turned my head slightly to look at my husband, who was still standing at the head of the table. Rudra's **ocean-blue eyes** were practically glowing with an intense, burning devotion, thoroughly enjoying the way his fierce Queen was completely dismantling these men without an ounce of fear.

"Rudra," I commanded, using his full name with absolute authority.

"Yes, Janna?" he rumbled instantly, his deep baritone completely submissive to my word, though his eyes remained deadly for the guests.

"Make sure the cleaning staff completely sanitizes every single inch of this mahogany wood tonight," I said, picking up my silver tray from the console with a sharp click. "I don't want a single trace of this cheap tobacco scent left in our palace by tomorrow morning."

"Consider it done, Queen," Rudra murmured, a dark, incredibly proud smirk spreading across his handsome face as he gestured to the guards. "Guards, drag Singhania and his associate out through the service gates. They are officially banned from the Rathor territory. The rest of you-clear the room. The meeting is over."

The silver *payals* on my ankles didn't just chime as I stormed out of the study-they struck the marble floors with a sharp, furious rhythm that perfectly matched the raging storm inside me. I was absolutely boiling. The nerve of that man! Coming into my palace, drinking our water, pitching to my family, and then having the absolute audacity to look down on me?

I walked into the grand living room, my chest heaving slightly as I tightly gripped the empty silver tray in my hands, the pleats of my wine georgette saree rustling angrily behind me.

Bebe was sitting on the plush velvet sofa, calmly turning the beads of her rosary. The moment she heard the aggressive *chan-chan* of my footsteps and saw the fiery, unyielding rage burning in my brown eyes, she stopped. Her wise, wrinkled face immediately softened with a mix of concern and sharp curiosity.

"Ishu? Kya hua, beta? (What happened, child?)" Bebe asked, setting her beads aside and looking at me intently. "Why is your face so red? Did those ministers say something to stress you out?"

I set the silver tray down on the side table with a loud, resounding *clack* and crossed my arms over my chest, my diamonds flashing under the grand chandelier.

"Bebe, aapko pata hai woh Singhania kya bakwaas kar raha tha andar? (Bebe, do you know what garbage that Singhania was talking inside?)" I burst out, my voice laced with pure, unfiltered fury. "Mujhe bol raha hai ki mujhe business ki akal nahi hai! (He's telling me that I don't have any brains for business!)"

Bebe's eyebrows shot up instantly, a dangerous, protective glint entering her old eyes. "He said *what* to the Ranisa of this house?"

"Haan, Bebe! (Yes, Bebe!)" I continued, pacing back and forth in front of her, my oversized amber earrings swaying wildly against my jawline. "Mere hi ghar mein, mere ghar ka paani pee kar... mere pati aur mere papa ke aage baith kar aisi ghatia baatein kar raha tha! (In my own house, after drinking our water... sitting right in front of my husband and my father, he was talking such rubbish!) He thought just because I'm still completing my studies, I'm just some privileged girl playing house. He called my makeup studio a 'little hobby'!"

A cold, mocking smirk broke through my anger as I stopped in front of Bebe, tilting my head high with the fierce, independent pride that ran in my veins.

"Moorakh hai ek number ka! (He is a first-class fool!)" I snapped, a triumphant glint in my eyes. "Usey yeh nahi pata ki Rathor women own the companies, not the men! (He doesn't even know that the Rathor women own the companies, not the men!) I literally look after eighty percent of the shares in both *The Rathor Company* and *Eternity*, while his precious 'King' only has forty!"

Bebe stared at me for one silent second, and then, a wide, deeply satisfied grin spread across her face. A hearty, booming laugh escaped her lips as she leaned back against the plush cushions, thoroughly amused and incredibly proud.

"Sahi maza chakhaya tumne usey, meri jaan! (You taught him exactly the right lesson, my life!)" Bebe chuckled, gesturing for me to sit beside her. She took my hands, her rings clicking softly against my red bridal *chooda*. "These outsiders come here seeing the boys handling the boardrooms, and they think our women just sit behind veils. They don't know the history of this bloodline. The men of this family might rule the state, but the keys to the entire empire have always belonged to the Ranisa."

"Rudra was ready to murder him, Bebe," I murmured, my anger finally cooling down into a satisfied smirk as I rested my head against her shoulder. "But I made him sit back down. I handled it myself."

"Good," Bebe said, patting my cheek affectionately, her eyes shining with absolute devotion for her granddaughter-in-law. "That's exactly how a Rathor Queen commands her court. Let the fool go home ruined. Now, take a deep breath. Dinner is about to be served, and I want that arrogant man's shadow completely wiped from your mind before you sit at the royal table."

👑Rudra's Perspective

The door slammed shut behind Ishita, but the fierce, lingering echo of her silver *payals* still vibrated through the silent, suffocating air of the study. The entire room felt paralyzed by her storm.

I remained standing at the head of the table, my muscular frame** rigid, my jaw clenched so hard the muscles ached. My eyes were fixed on the empty doorway, my heart hammering a dangerous, chaotic rhythm against my ribs Damn, she was magnificent. The way she had flicked her fingers to command me, the cold authority in her voice, the lethal grace of her wine saree... she hadn't just handled Singhania; she had utterly possessed the room.

When I finally turned my gaze back to the table, the murderous rage in my chest had been replaced by a dark, terrifying amusement.

Singhania looked like a man who had just been handed a death sentence. The arrogance was completely wiped from his face. His skin was a pasty, sickly white, and his hands were visibly trembling against the mahogany wood. The realization of what he had just done—insulting the true majority shareholder of *The Rathor Company* and *Eternity* inside her own fortress—had finally pierced through his thick skull.

As the royal guards stepped forward to enforce my command, Singhania fell back against his chair, his voice cracking in sheer panic.

"Rudra... Rathore, please!" he started begging, his hands coming together in a frantic, trembling fold as he looked up at me. "I apologize! It was a massive misunderstanding. I didn't know... I didn't mean to question the Ranisa's intellect or her status. Please, don't terminate the contract. It will ruin my firm! Speak to her, Rathore. You are the King!"

Before I could even deign to answer him with a breath of air, my father stood up from his chair.

Ram Papa adjusted the cuffs of his linen kurta, looking down at Singhania with a cold, disgusted expression that completely mirrored my own.

"Yeh kuch bolne se pehle sochna chahiye tha na, Singhania," Papa said, his voice flat, heavy, and completely devoid of mercy. "(You should have thought about this before speaking, shouldn't you?) You come into our palace, sit at our table, and insult the heartbeat of this family."

Papa let out a harsh, mocking chuckle, shaking his head. "Jiski permission ke bina Rajasthan ka King kuch nahi karta... tune usey direct panga liya hai. (The woman without whose permission the King of Rajasthan doesn't do a single thing... you took a direct fight with her.) God himself can't save your business now. Bhagwan bachaye. Chal, Lakhan."

Lakhan Chacha stood up right alongside Papa, closing his leather folder with a sharp, definitive snap. He looked at Singhania's pathetic, trembling form with a smirk that was pure, unadulterated Rathore satisfaction.

"Foolish man," Chacha muttered, his voice dripping with condescension. "You came here thinking you were dealing with a traditional patriarchy. You didn't know our Rathor women's own everything?"

Chacha stepped away from the table, gesturing to the grand, sweeping architecture around us. "Radhore men don't have a single penny to this Raj Mahal. (We don't even own a single penny of this palace.) It is all registered under the name of the Rathor women's Wo chahe toh hamein nikal sakti hai yahan se... (If they wish, they can kick us out of here right now...)"

Chacha leaned down slightly, looking Singhania dead in the eye. "...tum phir kya hi ho? (So then, what even are you?)"

Singhania collapsed back, entirely broken, as the guards grabbed him and his trembling junior associate by their arms, dragging them roughly away from the table and out toward the service exits.

The remaining two state ministers practically scrambled to gather their files, bowing frantically to Papa, Chacha, and me. "We apologize for his behavior, Rathore. The state development council will completely detach itself from Singhania's firm by tonight. Khamma Ghani."

They scurried out of the room like rats fleeing a sinking ship, leaving only Papa, Chacha, Akshat, and me in the tobacco-scented study.

The moment the doors clicked shut, the heavy silence broke. Akshat let out a loud whistle, slamming his hand on the table. "Bhai! Bhabhi absolutely destroyed him! Did you see the look on his face when she did the math on the shares? Eighty-forty! I am printing that on a t-shirt tomorrow!"

I didn't answer him. I walked over to the side console, my ocean-blue eyes locked onto the empty glass and the silver tray Ishita had left behind. My fingers traced the rim where her hand had just been. My chest was tight with a wild, possessive hunger. She had protected my father, she had defended her own empire, and she had put the entire state in its place—all while wearing my name

"Clean this room," I commanded Laksh, who was still standing by the window, his pen poised over his tablet. "Get the staff to scrub every inch. I don't want a single trace of that tobacco smell when my Queen walks past this corridor later."

"Ji, Boss," Laksh replied instantly.

Turning on my heel, I walked out of the study, my heavy footsteps carrying me toward the living room where I knew my beautiful, furious wife was waiting.

I walked out of the corridor, my fingers automatically working at the buttons of my designer vest as I shrugged off my heavy charcoal blazer. My mind was completely replaying the sight of her standing at that mahogany table—pure, unadulterated fire in a wine georgette saree.

The moment I stepped into the archway of the main living room, the sharp, rapid cadence of her voice hit me.

"Aur nahi toh kya, Maa! (And why wouldn't I, Maa!)"

I paused, my blazer slung over one shoulder, my ocean-blue eyes instantly locking onto my wife. She was standing in the center of the lounge, gesturing fiercely with her hands, her red bridal *chooda* clinking loudly with every sharp movement. She was surrounded by the women of the house. Siya Maa, Chachi Urmila, and Dhristi were all sitting on the sofas, their faces a mix of absolute shock and protective anger as they listened to her. Bebe sat right beside her, nodding like a general approving of her soldier's tactics.

Ishita was still completely serious, her breathing shallow, her jawline tight with the lingering fury of what had transpired inside.

"Uski itni himmat ki hamare hi palace m baith kar mujhe sikha raha hai? (How dare he sit in our own palace and try to teach me?)" Ishita snapped, her curly hair bouncing as she tossed her head back angrily. "He literally told me I don't understand business just because my master's degree isn't finished yet. Kehta hai 'makeup hobby' hai meri! (He calls my makeup studio a hobby!)"

Siya Maa’s jaw dropped, her hands flying to her chest in utter disbelief. "Hai bhagwan! Aisi  baat boli usne meri bachi ko? (He said such a horrible thing to my child?) In our own house?!"

"Haan, Maa!" Dhristi piped up from the side, her eyes wide as she looked up at Ishita. "Bhabhi told him off so beautifully! We should have seen her

"Shut him down?" Ishita countered, her brown eyes flashing with a dangerous, proud smirk as she paced the floor, her silver *payals* chiming an angry rhythm. "I told him straight to his face—the men of this family might run the boardrooms, but technically, the Rathor women own eighty percent of the empire. Both companies belong to me!"

Chachi Urmila let out a sharp gasp, then immediately burst into a proud, triumphant laugh. "Sahi kiya, Ishu beta! In ahankari purusho ko unki aukaat dikhana bohot zaroori hai. (You did exactly the right thing, Ishi beta! It's very important to show these arrogant men their true place.) He thought he could walk into Rajasthan's royal court and look down on our Ranisa?"

I leaned against the marble pillar, a slow, deeply possessive smile spreading across my face as I watched her. She was magnificent when she was furious. The way her skin glowed, the sharp curve of her jawline where my favorite moles rested, the sheer authority dripping from her frame—she was born to rule this palace, and every single person in it.

Akshat and Papa walked out of the corridor behind me, but I raised a single hand, silencing them instantly. I didn't want them interrupting her performance.

"Aur upar se, that disgusting room smelled like cheap tobacco!" Ishita continued, her tone dropping into that strict, unyielding register that made even the servants freeze in their tracks. "Who allowed them to smoke inside a closed, biometric study? Papa Ji had just taken his heart medicine right in front of them!"

Hearing this, Siya Maa stood up, her face turning entirely cold. "They smoked in front of Ram Ji? Achha hua Rudra ne usey dhakke maar kar nikalwa diya! (It's good that Rudra had him kicked out roughly!)"

"Maine nikalwaya, Maa," Ishita corrected, her chin tilting up with that fierce, independent pride that made me want to pull her into my arms and never let her go. "I told Rudra to clear the room and get it sanitized. If I smell a single trace of tobacco near Papa's study tomorrow, I'm firing the entire floor staff."

I tossed my blazer onto a nearby armchair, my heavy footsteps finally breaking the silence of the room as I walked straight toward the circle of women. The entire room went quiet as my shadow fell over them, but my eyes never left my beautiful, raging wife.

"The study is already being scrubbed with sandalwood oil, Queen," I rumbled, my deep, rough baritone cutting through the lounge as I stepped right into her personal space, my ocean-blue eyes burning with absolute adoration and pride. "Your orders are already being executed."

The moment my deep baritone echoed through the living room, Ishita snapped her head around. The soft, comforting gossip with the matriarchs instantly vanished, replaced by the sheer, unyielding authority of a Queen holding her court accountable.

She didn't back down. Instead, she took a deliberate step directly into my personal space, her figure standing tall against my frame. Her brown eyes were blazing with absolute fire, completely ignoring the adoration dripping from my face.

"Pehle toh mujhe yeh bataiye..." she started, pointing a finger wrapped in her red bridal *chooda* straight at my chest, her voice echoing sharply against the high ceilings. "...why did you allow them to smoke there? Huh, Ru?"

My jaw tightened, not out of anger, but out of the sheer, intoxicating rush of watching her dominate the room.

"You know nobody does that in this house," she scolded, her tone dropping into that strict, demanding register that usually made hard-boiled corporate executives sweat. "I hate it! I absolutely despise the smell of tobacco, and you know it. Why did you allow it, Rudra?"

Before I could even open my mouth to explain the high-stakes state protocols, she whirled on her heel, her deep wine georgette saree swirling around her ankles as her furious gaze locked onto my brother.

"And Akshat Bhaiya!" Ishita snapped, her oversized amber earrings clinking wildly against her jaw. "Can't you stop them? You were sitting right next to the console! You're the co-CEO of this empire, but you just sat there while they turned our private workspace into a public lounge?"

Akshat, who had been grinning like a proud brother just a second ago, instantly raised his hands in absolute surrender, his face flushing with a mix of guilt and sheer terror. "Bhabhi... look, I swear I was about to say something, but Singhania lit it during the international video call and—"

"Mujhe koi bahaana nahi chahiye, bhaiya! (I don't want any excuses, bhaiya!)" she cut him off ruthlessly, before turning her fiery gaze to the two elders who had just walked into the room behind us.

Ram Papa and Lakhan Chacha froze mid-step.

"Papa Ji and Chacha Ji... aap dono bhi chup the! (The two of you were silent as well!)" Ishita said, her voice softening slightly out of respect, but remaining incredibly firm. "Papa Ji, you have strict medical orders from the doctors. You know how dangerous secondhand smoke is for your heart, yet you sat through a three-hour meeting in a sealed, soundproof room with that toxic air. Aap logo ne kisi ne kuch kyun nahi bola? (Why did none of you say anything?)"

The grand living room of the Rathor Raj Mahal went completely dead silent. The King, the Prince, the Former King, and the Senior Prince of Rajasthan were all standing in a neat line, thoroughly cornered and completely silenced by a single woman in a wine saree.

Ram Papa cleared his throat, looking over at Siya Maa for help, but Maa just crossed her arms and turned her face away, completely siding with her daughter-in-law.

"Beta... woh actually, state regulations and the foreign ministry guidelines say we have to provide a diplomatic courtesy to international investors..." Papa tried to explain with a sheepish, defeated smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "But you are completely right. We should have stopped it."

Lakhan Chacha nodded vigorously, completely abandoning his regal pride. "Haan, Ishu beta. Honestly, we got so caught up in the land acquisition dispute that we completely ignored it. It won't happen again, we promise."

I stepped closer to her, my shadow completely enveloping her petite frame. I reached out, my large, calloused hand gently wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against my chest to ground her racing heartbeat. My ocean-blue eyes looked down into hers, entirely soft, entirely submissive to her anger.

"They are right, Janna. It was a lapse in judgment on our part," I rumbled softly, my deep baritone vibrating against her cheek as I took the blame for the entire room. "Singhania took advantage of the formal intermission protocol. I should have thrown him out the second he pulled out the lighter. I'm sorry."

Ishita placed her hands flat against my chest, her brown eyes searching mine, still breathing heavily but slowly letting the tension drain out of her shoulders under my touch.

"I don't care about their international protocols, Ru," she murmured, her voice cracking slightly with genuine protective concern as she looked between me and Papa. "I care about this family's health. I don't want that poison inside our home ever again."

Siya Maa stepped forward, a soft, maternal smile breaking across her face as she saw how quickly my defensive stance softened into absolute devotion the moment my arms wrapped around Ishita’s waist.

"Acha ab bas kar, gussa chodh, (Alright, that's enough now, let go of your anger,)" Siya Maa said gently, walking over to pat Ishita’s shoulder affectionately. She gave me a knowing look, thoroughly pleased to see the mighty King of Rajasthan completely tamed by her daughter-in-law. "Let's have dinner everyone. The guests are gone, the food is getting cold, and we’ve all had a very long afternoon. Come on."

Akshat let out a dramatic sigh of relief, instantly moving toward the grand dining hall. "Thank God. If Bhabhi kept cross-examining us for another five minutes, I would have confessed to crimes I didn't even commit. Let’s eat!"

Ram Papa and Lakhan Chacha laughed, gladly escaping the tension as they followed Chachi Urmila and Dhristi toward the royal dining spread.

I didn't move an inch. My large hands remained firmly anchored on the small of Ishita's waist, feeling the soft silk of her wine georgette saree beneath my palms. I looked over my shoulder at the retreating backs of my family.

"You all go," I rumbled, my deep, rough baritone leaving no room for argument. "I'll come after making up with my wife."

Akshat paused at the dining room archway, throwing a playful, teasing smirk over his shoulder. "Don't take too long, Bhai! The dessert looks amazing, but I can't guarantee I'll leave any for you if you're stuck doing damage control."

"Get out, Akshat," I snapped, though a rare, dark chuckle escaped my lips.

The moment the living room emptied out, leaving only the two of us under the warm, dim glow of the grand chandelier, the heavy silence returned. I turned Ishita completely in my arms, pressing her back gently against the solid marble pillar. My **6'3" frame** completely shadowed her, my **ocean-blue eyes** burning with an intense, obsessive heat as I looked down into her fierce brown eyes.

"Still furious with me, Janna?" I whispered, my voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp as I leaned down, my lips brushing against the tight line of her jaw where my favorite moles rested.

I tightened my grip on her waist, pulling her so close that the delicate silver work on her wine saree pressed flat against my chest. I could feel the rapid, shallow thud of her heartbeat slowing down, matching the heavy, steady rhythm of mine.

"Still furious with me, Janna?" I whispered again. My voice was a low, gravelly rasp as I leaned down, my lips brushing softly against the tight line of her jawline, lingering right over the small, dark moles that always drove me crazy.

Ishita let out a shaky breath, her hands sliding up my chest to rest against my shoulders, her fingers lightly gripping the fabric of my shirt. "You let them disrespect our house rules, Ru," she murmured, though the fierce edge in her brown eyes was finally melting into soft vulnerability. "And Papa Ji's health... you know how I get when it comes to the family."

"I know," I rumbled, my heart swelling with so much protective adoration for the woman in my arms.

I lifted one hand from her waist, my long fingers gently cupping her jawline. My thumb lightly traced the soft skin of her cheek, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to look directly into my **ocean-blue eyes**. I let her see everything—the boundless pride, the absolute submission, and the terrifying amount of love I held for her.

"I am sorry, Ishi," I said, my voice dropping into a rare, deeply tender tone meant only for her ears. "I got entirely caught up in the state clearance files and let it slip. It was my mistake. But seeing you stand up there, protecting my father, defending your identity, and taking absolute control of my empire... God, Janna, you have no idea what you do to me."

A small, breathless smile finally broke through her serious expression, her amber earrings swaying against her neck as she tilted her head. "Oh really? And what do I do to you, Patidev?"

"You drive me insane," I confessed against her skin, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss right on her temple, then another on the tip of her nose. "You make me look like a fool in front of my own board of directors, and I don't care a single bit. Today, you didn't just act like the Queen of Rajasthan... you looked like the absolute ruler of my entire world."

Ishita’s hands moved behind my neck, her red bridal *chooda* jingling softly in the quiet, dim lounge as she pulled me down just an inch closer. "Someone had to show him his place. He thought he could come here and treat me like a privilege ornament."

"He's ruined, Janna. I've already blacklisted his firm from every major sector in the country," I promised, my eyes darkening with a flash of my usual ruthlessness before instantly softening as I looked at her lips. "Nobody insults my wife and gets to keep their livelihood. But forget about him. Your anger is gone now, hmm?"

"Almost," she teased softly, a beautiful, playful spark returning to her brown eyes.

"Let me fix the rest of it," I murmured.

I leaned down completely, my lips capturing hers in a slow, deeply passionate, and tender kiss. It wasn't the demanding, possessive kiss of the ruthless businessman, but the soft, worshipful embrace of the boy who had fallen in love with her at first sight at the temple steps. I poured all my gratitude, my apologies, and my boundless love into the kiss, holding her as if she were the most precious piece of glass in the entire palace.

When I finally pulled back, our breaths mingling in the quiet room, her cheeks were flushed a beautiful crimson that perfectly matched her saree.

"Now," I whispered, gently tucking a stray curly lock of hair behind her ear "We should probably go inside before Akshat actually eats your share of the dessert, or I'll have to deal with a completely different kind of corporate crisis."

Ishita let out a soft, beautiful laugh, her arms wrapping around my waist as she rested her head against my chest for one final, quiet second. "Fine, let's go. But you are still helping me check Papa Ji's room for any lingering smoke smell after dinner."

"Your wish is my command, Queen," I smiled darkly, looping my arm securely around her waist as we finally walked toward the dining hall together.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The grand dining hall was filled with the warm, comforting aroma of royal dishes, fresh rotis, and traditional Rajasthani sweets, completely washing away the tense atmosphere of the study. Papa Ji and Chacha Ji were sitting at the head of the long table, still aggressively discussing the new logistics route for the Delhi expansion, gesturing with their spoons while Akshat chimed in between heavy mouthfuls of food.

Rudra sat right beside me. Even while listening to his family analyze multi-million-dollar state blueprints, his large, warm hand was securely rested on my thigh under the table, his thumb tracing slow, comforting circles over the georgette fabric of my wine saree.

Looking at his sharp profile, my mind suddenly drifted back to a few months ago, right after we got married.

I leaned in close to his shoulder, my curly hair falling forward to cut off the rest of the noisy table as I whispered softly into his ear, "Ru... remember that day? You were so upset with yourself because your schedule was packed, and you felt like you weren't able to give me enough time? And I wasn't even asking for it because I knew how stressed you were?"

Rudra didn't break his gaze from Papa Ji, but his thumb instantly stopped its movement on my thigh. He gave a single, slow, understanding nod, his jaw tightening slightly as he remembered how guilty he had felt back then.

Seeing him listen so intently, a sudden wave of excitement hit me. Ever since we moved to the Rathor Raj Mahal on March 1st after he became King, my days had been completely consumed by palace duties, my master's studies, and managing the transition of my studio. I had lived in Delhi my whole life-I had never actually seen the raw, beautiful magic of this state.

I leaned an inch closer, my lips almost brushing the shell of his ear as I whispered secretly, "Can we go to explore Rajasthan together? Just the two of us? I've never actually been here before as a tourist, and I want to see the sand dunes, the old forts, and the local markets with you."

The moment the words left my mouth, Rudra's hand moved from my thigh.

Without a single second of hesitation, his large, calloused hand slid into mine under the table, **intertwining our fingers** tightly, his grip possessive and unyielding. He didn't interrupt Papa Ji, nor did he look away from the corporate map Akshat was pointing at, but he gave a firm, reassuring nod against my temple, his squeeze promising me everything I had just asked for.

A soft, breathless smile spread across my face, a deep warmth blooming inside my chest.

As I sat there, listening to the clinking of royal cutlery and the booming voices of the Rathore men discussing empires, a beautiful realization washed over me. It didn't matter how high-stakes his life was. It didn't matter if he was dealing with international investors, state ministers, or running the top five companies in the world.

No matter how busy he was, my husband always answered me. He never brushed my whispers off, he never told me to wait until after the meeting, and he never made me feel like an interruption. Even in a crowded room full of family and business, Rudra Singh Rathore always made time to hold my hand and grant my every whim.

I squeezed his hand back tightly under the mahogany table, resting my shoulder against his iron arm, feeling completely safe and utterly cherished by Rajasthan's ruthless King.

Author’s Note:

Can we just take a moment to appreciate the sheer power of Ishita Sharma-Rathor?! 😮‍💨🔥

Watching her single-handedly line up the King, the Prince, the Former King, and the Senior Prince of Rajasthan like disciplined schoolboys is officially my new favorite thing. No matter how many multi-million-dollar boardrooms these Rathore men rule, we all know who truly holds the keys to the empire! 👑💅

And that ending... my heart completely melted. Rudra might be a ruthless billionaire to the world, but under that mahogany table, he is just a boy completely submissive to his Janna's every single whisper. 😭💖

Question for you all: Who do you think looked the most terrified under Ishita's cross-examination—Rudra, Akshat Bhaiya, or Papa Ji? Drop your thoughts in the comments, and get ready, because our King and Queen are finally going to explore the sand dunes of Rajasthan together! ✨👇