Honeymoon phase has been officially started guyss....... Enjoy the chapter and make sure to like and comment 😁 😁.. and don't forget to follow for next chapter and maybe next stories 😸 as well love you all .....

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The speedboat cut through the crystal-clear water with a muted hum, eventually docking at the long, wooden pier of their private island sanctuary. The overwater villa stood at the end of the walkway, a masterpiece of glass and timber perched directly over the glowing reef.

Shivank didn't break his rhythm. He stepped off the boat, still cradling Aanvi against his chest. He walked the length of the pier, his leather shoes echoing on the timber, while the island staff bowed silently, having been warned beforehand that a single "Welcome" shouted too loudly would result in their immediate dismissal.

He entered the villa, the air-conditioned cool of the room a sharp contrast to the tropical heat. He bypassed the panoramic living room and the glass-bottomed floor, heading straight for the master suite. The bed was massive, draped in white linen that looked like soft clouds.

With the precision of a man handling a billion-dollar asset, he lowered her onto the silk sheets. He spent a moment unbuckling her shoes and tossing them aside, then sat on the edge of the mattress, just watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.

Aanvi stirred. The change from the vibration of the boat to the absolute stillness of the villa finally nudged her subconscious. Her long lashes fluttered, and she let out a soft, "baby-natured" groan of protest against the light.

She blinked, her vision blurry. The first thing she saw was the dark, "hard" silhouette of Shivank sitting over her. Then, she looked past him. Instead of a jet cabin, she saw a wall made entirely of glass, revealing an endless, starlit Indian Ocean and the sound of waves lapping gently beneath her.

"Shivank-ji?" she croaked, her voice thick with sleep. She sat up abruptly, her "clumsy" hands tangling in the sheets. "Where... where is the plane? Why is the floor moving? Are we underwater?"

Shivank reached out, his hand steadying her shoulder before she could tumble off the bed in her confusion. A ghost of a smirk played on his lips.

"The plane landed an hour ago, Aanvi," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "You slept through the landing, the car ride, the jetty, and a fifteen-minute boat trip. I’m starting to think I could have traded you for a different bride at the airport and you wouldn't have noticed."

Aanvi’s face turned bright red. She looked down at herself—still in her travel clothes, but her shoes were gone. "You... you carried me? All that way? In front of everyone?"

"In front of the flight crew, the ground staff, and the entire resort team," Shivank confirmed, his gaze turning "hard" and possessive. "Let them know early who you belong to."

Aanvi looked out at the moon reflecting on the water, then back at her husband, who was watching her with an intensity that made the room feel smaller. The "Strict CEO" had discarded his blazer and tie; his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and he looked raw, relaxed, and dangerous.

"I’m a disaster," she whispered, hiding her face in her hands. "I wanted to arrive like a sophisticated Rathore wife, and instead, I arrived like a sack of potatoes."

Shivank chuckled, a low, vibration that seemed to pull her toward him. He gently pried her hands away from her face and leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.

"You arrived like my Queen," he whispered. "And now that you're finally awake... the honeymoon officially begins."

He pressed a lingering kiss to the pulse point on her neck, making Aanvi’s breath hitch as the reality of being alone on a private island with the "Mountain" finally set in.

Aanvi’s stomach betrayed her romantic moment with a loud, unmistakable growl that echoed in the quiet luxury of the suite. She froze, her face turning an even deeper shade of crimson against the white silk pillows.

"I... I think the 'sack of potatoes' is empty," she whispered, looking up at him with a sheepish, "baby-natured" smile.

Shivank pulled back, a genuine glint of amusement in his dark eyes. He checked his watch—it was nearly midnight. "I spend millions on a private island, and my wife’s first priority is her stomach. Truly, Aanvi, your timing is legendary."

He didn't call room service. He stood up and walked to the integrated gourmet kitchen of the villa. "The staff left a cold spread in the fridge. Stay there. If you try to walk, you'll probably trip over the rug and end up in the ocean before we’ve even had appetizers."

A few minutes later, he returned with a silver tray laden with Maldivian salad, fresh tropical fruits, and artisanal cheeses. He didn't set it on the table; he placed it right on the bed.

He sat across from her, watching with a "hard" but fascinated gaze as she attacked the food with more enthusiasm than she had shown for the Maldives scenery.

"Slow down," he murmured, reaching out to wipe a stray bit of dressing from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. The intimacy of the gesture made Aanvi pause, her heart doing a little flutter that had nothing to do with hunger.

"It’s really good, Shivank-ji," she said, holding out a piece of fruit to him. "You should eat too. You carried a 'heavy' bride all day."

"I have different appetites, Aanvi," he said, his voice dropping into that dangerous, low register as he took the fruit from her fingers, his lips brushing her skin. "But they can wait until you’ve regained your strength."

Once the tray was cleared, the sheer exhaustion of the journey finally caught up with Aanvi again. Her eyes were heavy, her head nodding. Shivank moved the tray and stood up, dimmed the lights until the room was bathed in the soft, bioluminescent blue of the ocean glowing outside their window.

He slid back into bed, pulling her small frame against his side. Aanvi instinctively curled into him, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady, powerful thrum of his heart.

"Sleep," he commanded softly, pulling the duvet up to her chin. "Tomorrow, the island is yours. I’ve cleared my schedule. No calls, no mergers, no distractions."

"Promise?" she mumbled, already halfway to dreamland.

"The mountain never breaks a promise to the bird," he whispered into her hair.

He stayed awake for a while, listening to the waves beneath the floorboards and the soft, even breathing of the woman in his arms. The "Strict CEO" was thousands of miles away; here, he was just a man guarding his greatest treasure. .....

Continue..........