You’re folding laundry of all things when the bedroom doors swing open with a sharp, deliberate thud. Your head snaps up. Rishan is standing in the doorway, all six feet and what feels like forever of him. His jacket is slung carelessly over one shoulder, shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at the tension beneath his skin. His eyes are dark, stormy, and locked on you like you’ve crossed a line you didn’t know existed.

He says nothing as he walks in. Measured. Slow. Dangerous. You straighten instinctively, but it’s too late. In one swift move, he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him. Your body crashes softly into his, your breath stolen for a second too long.

“Rishan,” you start. He doesn’t let you finish. He pushes you gently, firmly, onto the bed. His body towers above yours. Before you can blink, two black cards and a stack of fresh notes hit the sheets beside you. “Do you think this is a game?” His voice is low, almost calm, but something under it simmers. “You walk around this penthouse like you don’t belong in it. Still checking price tags. Still flinching at delivery charges.”

You stare at him, heart pounding. He leans in, resting one hand beside your head, the other brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. The scent of his cologne, amber and spice and power, floods your senses. “I’ve let it slide. I told myself it’s how you were raised. You need time. But I’ve reached my limit, s.” He tilts his head, gaze sharp. “I am a billionaire, and the only thing I cannot afford is your restraint.”

You try to sit up, but he holds you there, gently. His thumb brushes your bottom lip as he speaks. “This isn’t about money. It’s about you still thinking it’s mine. Everything I have, every bloody thing I’ve ever built, is yours. But you act like you're still visiting. Like you’re still that girl from a small town who got too lucky.” His voice drops, slower now, heavier.

“I didn’t fall in love with you because you were simple. I fell in love with you because you made all this” he gestures around the luxurious room, the marble, the skyline glowing beyond the glass “mean something.” Silence stretches. His eyes search yours. Then he leans in, lips brushing your jaw.

“So here’s what’s going to happen. Tomorrow, you're taking those cards and you’re going to spend. Not for the money. For me. Because I need to know you’ve finally accepted this life is yours too.” You arch a brow, pushing back just a little because you know he likes it. “And what if I say no?” you tease, lips close to his. He smirks, dangerous and amused. “Then I’ll take you shopping myself. And I won’t stop until you're too tired to walk or speak.”

You feel the heat crawl up your neck, your smirk fading into something breathless. “You’re ridiculous.” “And you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your throat, “are mine.”