Helloooooo my cutiess....... So I hope you liked the first chapter with a little bit of innocence and yawn drama soo here is part two of the storyyyy and please like and comment really need your support guyss lovee you alllll...............❤️❤️

In the world of Shivank Rathore, time was money, and mornings were a battlefield. He usually woke up at 5:00 AM, his mind already churning with stock prices and global acquisitions.

But this morning, the "Devil of Delhi" was running behind schedule. And he didn't care.

The master bedroom was bathed in the soft, honeyed light of a Delhi dawn. Shivank was already dressed in his charcoal grey suit trousers and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his powerful forearms. He stood by the edge of the sprawling king-sized bed, his silk tie hanging forgotten around his neck.

His gaze was fixed on Aanvi.

She was a mess of soft limbs and tangled duvet. In her sleep, she had managed to kick off the expensive covers, her cheek pressed against a plush pillow. A few stray strands of hair were stuck to her lip, moving gently with every rhythmic breath she took.

She looked so... defenceless.

In his world, everyone wanted something from him. His board of directors wanted profits; his rivals wanted his downfall; the media wanted a scandal. But Aanvi? Aanvi just wanted to make sure he ate his breakfast and didn't trip over her discarded slippers.

Shivank leaned against the bedpost, his arms crossed over his chest. A faint, rare smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

'How does she manage to look like an angel while sleeping like a total disaster?' he thought.

He reached out, his hand hovering over her face. He hesitated. His hands were built for signing contracts and crushing competition, not for stroking porcelain skin. But the pull was too strong. With the tip of his index finger, he gently tucked that stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Aanvi stirred, a tiny mumble escaping her lips. "Mmm... Shivank-ji... the cookies..."

He froze. Even in her dreams, she was worried about her failed baking experiments.

"Sleep, Aanvi," he whispered, his voice losing every ounce of its corporate gravel. "The cookies are fine. Everything is fine."

He stayed there for ten minutes, watching the way her eyelashes cast long shadows on her cheeks. To the world, he was a man of steel. But in this quiet room, in the presence of her innocence, he felt the armor melting. He realized then that he didn't just want to protect her from the world—he wanted to be the world she never had to protect herself from.

Finally, he straightened his tie and checked his Patek Philippe. He was late for a briefing, but as he turned to leave, he did something he had never done before.

He leaned down and pressed a ghost of a kiss to her forehead.

"Stay exactly as you are," he murmured against her skin. "Don't let this world make you like me."

He walked out of the room, shutting the door with a click so soft it wouldn't have woken a bird. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, his face was a mask of cold professionalism again.

"Kaka," Shivank barked at the butler waiting in the foyer.

"Yes, Sahab?"

"Don't wake her. And tell the kitchen to make whatever she wants for breakfast. If I hear she tripped on the stairs because she was rushing, I'm holding you personally responsible."

Kaka hid a smile. "Of course, Sahab."

.......................

In the Evening .......

Shivank was in his home office, a space of glass and steel where he usually felt most at home. He was on a video call with investors from Tokyo, his tone cold enough to freeze the screen.

"The margins are unacceptable," Shivank snapped. "If I don't see a 5% increase by—"

Thump. Clatter. "Oops!"

The sound came from right outside his door. Shivank froze. The investors looked confused.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Rathore?" one of them asked.

Shivank sighed, the sound of a man who had accepted his fate. "One moment."

He walked to the door and swung it open. Aanvi was on the floor, surrounded by a sea of colorful files she had clearly tried to carry all at once.

"I... I was bringing you your green tea," she whispered, pointing to a lone, miraculously upright cup on a silver tray a few feet away. "And your secretary called and said you needed these files from the library, so I thought I’d be helpful..."

Shivank looked at the "merciless" task ahead of him. He should have been furious. These were confidential documents now scattered like confetti. But then he saw it—a small band-aid on her finger where she’d burned herself making that tea.

His anger evaporated, replaced by a strange, tight feeling in his chest.Shivank looked at the screen where three of the most powerful investors in Asia were waiting, then back at Aanvi, who looked like a fallen sparrow amidst a storm of paperwork.

"Wait," Shivank said to the laptop, not even looking at the camera. He didn't mute the mic.

He stepped out and closed the door behind him, but not before the investors caught a glimpse of the "Devil of Delhi" dropping to one knee. He didn't scold her. He didn't raise his voice. He simply began gathering the files with his large, steady hands.

"I'm so sorry, Shivank," Aanvi whispered, her bottom lip trembling. "I'm just so... I tried to be fast, and my slipper caught the rug, and then—"

"Quiet, Aanvi," he said, but the sharpness was gone. It was the voice he used when he was trying to solve a complex puzzle. He stacked the files perfectly and placed them on the tray next to the tea. Then, he looked at her hand.

He grabbed her wrist, his skin burning against hers. "You burned yourself."

"It's just a little one," she said, trying to pull away. "I’m fine, really."

"You’re not fine. You’re a walking disaster," he muttered, but he stood up and pulled her to her feet with him. For a moment, she was tucked against his chest, her head reaching just to his heart. She could hear it—a steady, thumping rhythm that seemed a lot more human than the rumors suggested.

He turned back to his office door. "Stay here."

He walked back inside, stood in front of his camera, and spoke with ice in his veins. "Gentlemen, an internal security matter requires my immediate attention. We will reconvene in ten minutes. My assistant will send a new link."

He ended the call without waiting for a reply. A multi-million dollar negotiation could wait; his wife’s band-aid was crooked...

CONTINUE...............

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