The city of Jaipur glittered beneath you like spilled jewels, its regal charm stretching endlessly as the cool breeze kissed your skin. You stood on the balcony of the luxury hotel, the muffled hum of the business gala fading behind you, an event hosted by none other than your husband. You had slipped away quietly, needing a moment to breathe. But solitude was a rare luxury in your life now. A heavy warmth fell over your shoulders. Vibhor’s coat.

"You think I wouldn’t notice you slipping away?" His voice, oh, rich and unshakably calm, sent a shiver down your spine, one that had nothing to do with the breeze. You didn’t need to turn to know his gaze was on you. When Vibhor looked at you, it was never passive. It was penetrating, consuming, ike you were the only thing in the world worth watching. You turned slightly, your eyes meeting his. I leave you alone for five minutes, and you disappear." His fingers brushed your wrist, slow and firm. "Tell me, were you bored… or were you trying to get away from me?"

He asked it casually, almost teasingly, but you knew better. His control was always laced in velvet, ever shouted, only felt. And right now, you felt it in the way his body caged you in, his scent clean, sharp, expensive, louding your senses, his hand resting possessively on your waist like a silent warning to the world. You weren’t supposed to be his. You weren’t from his world, from wealth or lineage, not trained in the subtle art of society games. You had met Vibhor Rajvansh in the most unexpected of ways, through an arrangement your parents spoke of cautiously, already overwhelmed by the power his name carried. He was the heir to Rajvansh Enterprises, Jaipur’s most influential business family. Reserved. Calculated. And far too intense for your liking.

He began to appear everywhere in our office, your family functions, even casual spaces you didn’t think he’d belong in. He never asked questions, just made things happen. Obstacles removed themselves. Opportunities appeared like magic. He never said, “Be with me.” He just… made sure you had nowhere else to go. The wedding was beautiful but eerily fast. Court papers, followed by a lavish temple ceremony. Red lehenga. Gold jewelry. A diamond-studded mangalsutra so heavy it almost felt like a chain. Everyone saw the glamour. Only you understood the gravity. You weren’t marrying a man. You were entering a storm.

Married life with Vibhor wasn’t about compromise. It was a surrender masked as luxury. He gave you everything: designer wardrobes, a penthouse apartment, and sand to cater to your every need, but every gift came with an invisible thread. Yet he never yelled. Never accused. He simply adjusted his cufflinks, gave a look, made a call, and the world bent. But you also saw another side. On nights when no one else was around, when he thought you were asleep, his arm would tighten around you like he was afraid you’d vanish. He’d watch you sometimes in silence, sometimes brushing your hair off your face with a tenderness that felt foreign coming from a man who ruled empires.

"You always test my patience, don’t you?" Your breath hitched. His hand slid to the small of your back, pressing you against the cool railing. Not enough to trap, but just enough to remind. Then, softer, now more dangerous somehow, because it was gentle: “Come back inside with me.”