The moment Niharika steps into their bedroom, she knows something is wrong. The air is thick with tension, the scent of sandalwood and cigar smoke curling around her senses.

Advay is sitting on the bed, his long legs stretched out, a glass of whiskey in hand. His dark eyes flick up to hers, lazy, lethal, and entirely too focused.

She folds her arms. “Why do I feel like I’m about to be interrogated?”

His lips curl. “Maybe because you are.”

Her brows shoot up. “Oh? And what crime have I committed now, Thakur sa?”

Advay’s gaze drops to the slit in her silk saree, lingering at the scandalous flash of thigh she hadn’t realized was exposed. The muscles in his jaw tighten. “Wearing this in public,” he states, voice dark and slow.

She looks down at herself—midnight-blue saree, barely-there blouse, diamonds at her throat. Elegant. Regal. Utterly untouchable. “I fail to see the problem.”

Advay sets his whiskey down with a decisive clink and rises to his feet, closing the distance between them in a single stride. His fingers skim her waist before curling around it, pulling her flush against him.

“The problem,” he murmurs, lips grazing her ear, “is that I saw three men staring at you tonight like they wanted to strip this off you with their teeth."

She shivers but tilts her chin up defiantly. “And what does that have to do with me?”

His thumb brushes the bare skin of her waist, slow, possessive. “Everything. Because tum sirf meri ho, Jaan."

Her breath catches. He’s always been like this—dangerously calm, deliciously intense. But tonight? Tonight, there’s something more. A storm lurking beneath his control.

“Possessive ho rahe ho?” she taunts, arching a delicate brow.

Advay chuckles, a deep, sinful sound. Then, without warning, he lifts her up effortlessly, throwing her over his shoulder.

“Advay!” she shrieks, hands slapping at his back as he strides towards the bed. “Put me down!”

“As you wish, princess,” he says smoothly—before tossing her onto the mattress.

She lands with a soft bounce, her saree unraveling just enough to be indecent. Her breath hitches as Advay crawls over her, caging her in with his powerful arms.

“Shall I remind you,” he murmurs, lips tracing the curve of her jaw, “exactly who you belong to?”

Her pulse skitters. “I belong to no one.”

Advay smirks. “Then why do you look like you’re waiting for me to prove you wrong?”

His fingers trail up her thigh, his touch slow, teasing, making her stomach tighten with heat. Niharika swallows hard. She should push him away. She should fight back. But when his lips ghost over hers, she forgets every reason why she ever wanted to resist.

“Say it, Jaan,” he breathes, his voice a command and a plea. “Say you’re mine.”

She bites her lip, her nails sinking into his shoulders. “Only if you say you’re mine first.”

Advay’s eyes darken. Then, with a smirk that’s pure sin, he captures her lips in a kiss that leaves no room for arguments—only surrender.

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