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The bedroom door clicked shut, the sound echoing like a final seal against the rest of the world. Shivank didn't even bother turning on the main lights; the room was bathed in the amber glow of the fireplace and the soft moonlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

​

​He set Aanvi down on her feet, but he didn't let go. His hands stayed locked on her waist, pulling her flush against his solid frame. The "Strict CEO" was gone, replaced by a man fueled by a "hard" and hungry devotion.

​"Shivank-ji..." she whispered, her voice trembling, her "tipsy" haze now replaced by a sharp, electric awareness.

​"Don't," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "Don't talk. Just feel."

​He turned her around, his fingers finding the small hooks of her blouse at the back. His touch was steady, despite the fire burning in his veins. One by one, he undone them, his knuckles grazing her spine, sending shivers through her "clumsy" frame. The heavy velvet saree began to slip, pooling at her feet in a dark, luxurious heap.

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​He turned her back to face him. Aanvi stood there in her delicate lace undergarments, the "blue pearls" still glowing against her pale skin. Shivank’s gaze swept over her, visceral and intense.

​"You are so beautiful it hurts to look at you," he rasped.

​He lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, her "clinging" nature taking over as she buried her face in his neck. He carried her the two steps to the bed, laying her down onto the silk sheets. He followed her down, his large body hovering over hers, a "hard" shadow of protection and desire.

​"You said I was a marshmallow," he murmured against her ear, his breath hot. "Do I feel like a marshmallow now, Aanvi?"

​"No," she gasped, her hands wandering over the tensed muscles of his shoulders, feeling the raw power he usually kept hidden behind tailored suits. "You feel like a mountain. My mountain."

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​His hands, calloused and strong, moved over her with a desperate reverence. He kissed her—not just her lips, but the hollow of her throat, the slope of her shoulder, and the pounding pulse at her wrist. Every touch was an unspoken vow.

​"I spend all day commanding thousands," Shivank whispered, his forehead resting against hers as their breaths mingled. "But in this room, with you... I’m the one who’s conquered."

​Aanvi arched toward him, her "stubborn side" demanding more of his closeness. "Then don't stop. Don't ever stop being mine."

​As they moved together, the world outside—the business deals, the scandals, the expectations—ceased to exist. There was only the sound of their shared breaths and the "hard" rhythm of a love that was as fierce as it was tender. Shivank was careful with her, his strength tempered by a soul-deep need to cherish her "innocent" spirit, even as he lost himself in her.

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​Much later, the fire had burned down to embers. Shivank lay on his back, his arm tucked under Aanvi’s head, while she was curled into his side, her hand resting over his heart.

​"Shivank-ji?" she whispered into the silence.

​"Hmm?"

​"I think I like the 'marshmallow' version of you... but I really like the 'Mountain' version too."

​Shivank let out a low, tired chuckle, pulling the duvet over both of them and kissing the top of her head. "Go to sleep, little bird. You’ve done enough damage to my reputation and my heart for one night."

​She drifted off, listening to the steady, powerful beat of his heart—the only "board meeting" that truly mattered to her.

The sun streamed through the heavy curtains of the Rathore suite, but for the first time in his professional life, Shivank didn't care about the 8:00 AM market opening.

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Aanvi was buried deep under the Egyptian cotton duvet, only the top of her messy dark hair visible. When she felt the bed shift as Shivank propped himself up, she let out a tiny, "baby-natured" groan and tried to burrow even deeper.

"Aanvi," Shivank’s voice was a low, morning rumble, thick with a satisfaction that hadn't been there yesterday. "The sun is up. The 'Mountain' is hungry."

"The 'Bird' is broken," came a muffled voice from under the covers. "My legs feel like noodles, and my face is shy. Go away, Mr. CEO."

Shivank chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. He reached down and gently peeled back the duvet, revealing a very flushed, very disheveled Aanvi. She immediately covered her face with her hands, her "shy" nature in full force after the "hard" intimacy of the night.

"Don't look at me! I probably have 'tipsy' eyes and messy hair," she squeaked through her fingers.

"I’ve seen every inch of you, Aanvi. A little messy hair isn't going to change the fact that I'm staying right here," he said, pulling her hands away and kissing her knuckles. "I've canceled my morning. Today, I’m just your husband."

Just as Shivank leaned in to pull her into a protective morning cuddle, the heavy bedroom doors didn't just open—they were kicked.

"BREAKFAST IS SERVED FOR THE LOVEBIRDS!"

Kavyaa bounced into the room, wearing a loud tropical shirt and carrying a silver tray loaded with pancakes, fruit, and—inexplicably—two party poppers.

"Kavya! Get out!" Shivank roared, his "Strict CEO" voice returning in an instant as he reflexively pulled the duvet up to Aanvi’s chin to shield her.

"Oh, please, bhaiii ! I heard the 'tipsy' stories from the gala. I knew you two wouldn't be making it to the dining hall today," kavya chirped, sliding the tray onto the foot of the bed and setting off a party popper. Pop! Blue confetti rained down on the silk sheets.

Aanvi shrieked, half-laughing and half-horrified, while Shivank looked like he was contemplating a murder that no lawyer could fix.

"The Chairman called me three times, bhaiii," kavya said, stealing a piece of bacon from the tray. "He wanted to know if the 'Marshmallow' was coming in today. I told him the 'Mountain' was currently under a 'clumsy' landslide."

"Out. Now. Or I’ll have your vintage car collection sold for scrap metal," Shivank threatened, his eyes narrowing to "hard" slits.

Kavya held up her hands in mock retreat. "I’m going! I’m going! Enjoy the pancakes—Aanvi, I added extra syrup because I know how you get when you’re 'clinging' to life!"she winked and vanished, slamming the door behind her.

Silence returned to the room, save for the soft sound of confetti settling on the rug. Aanvi peaked out from the covers, her "innocent" eyes looking at the mess.

"Shivank-ji? There is blue paper in my hair."

Shivank sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders as he looked at her. He reached out, carefully picking the confetti from her hair with his large, steady hands. "I am going to kill her. One of these days, I really am."

"No, you won't," Aanvi giggled, her "clumsy" hand reaching out to grab his forearm, pulling him back down to the pillows. "You love her. Almost as much as you love being 'strict' with me."

"I love you more than my own sanity," he muttered, resigning himself to a morning of cold pancakes and a very "clingy" wife....

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Continue...............