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“Thank you,” I say softly, stretching my arms and neck to ease the tension in my muscles. “I think I’ll take a hot bath. My body’s begging for it.”

I catch the way his dark eyes flicker. His jaw tightens, and he steps toward me, closing the distance between us. His voice drops to that dangerously low tone that makes my insides quiver.

“You didn’t have to share that information,” he pauses meaningfully, “unless you want me to stay in your room to watch Veer while you bathe. In case he wakes up.”

I don’t miss the hunger in his gaze, especially when I’m acutely aware of my silk robe and the lingerie beneath it. I’d planned to take a bath earlier but was interrupted by work calls, leaving me in this state. His gaze deliberately travels from my face to my neck, lingering where the robe parts slightly. I wrap my arms around myself defensively, fighting my own rising desire.

“No thanks,” I say, aiming for casual, but the slight tremor in my voice gives me away. “You just said Veer will probably sleep through the night. I can manage twenty minutes in the tub alone without having to worry about him getting up.”

He swallows hard, and for a moment, I wonder if he’ll say something else. I can see the internal battle in his eyes. We’re playing a dangerous game of wills, one we both know how to win but refuse to give in to.

Desperate to change the subject, I add, “You need to come to my boutique tomorrow. Set aside an hour or two from your schedule.”

“Why?” he asks immediately.

“For your wedding suit trials. We don’t have many days left, unless you plan to postpone our wedding,” I tease, knowing very well that he’s never going to even consider doing that.

“Don’t bother about my outfit,” he dismisses me with a shrug. “I can manage to find something appropriate for myself.”

My temper flares instantly.

“Did you ask me before deciding on this courthouse wedding and picking the earliest possible date?” I challenge him. “No, right? So now, I’m not giving you a choice either. Your future wife happens to be one of the most famous fashion designers in both India and New York. If I don’t get to decide what we wear on our wedding day, who does?”

His jaw ticks, but I’m not finished. I straighten my spine, meeting his gaze directly.

“Like I said before—we’re equals in this relationship. If you get to decide certain things for us, so do I. I expect you to be at my boutique tomorrow afternoon after lunch. Don’t be late.”

Without waiting for his response, I turn and head to my bedroom, fully aware that my commanding tone has probably ruffled his controlling nature.

As I close my bedroom door, I lean against it, my heart pounding with nervous energy. In four days, I’ll be Mrs. Simran Vishnu Walia. The thought both thrills and terrifies me. Why is it so hard to hold my ground with him? The way he looks at me, the way his presence fills every corner of my mind—it’s maddening.

But I meant what I said. If this marriage is going to work, we have to meet each other halfway. And I won’t ever let him forget that. He needs to understand that his days of making all the decisions alone… are finally over.

******************

Simran’s Boutique – Next Day

The trial room feels cool, but I’m burning inside. I stand before the full-length mirror, my fingers trailing along the dangerously low neckline of the shimmery black blouse. My cheeks flush as I take in the sight—my blouse is daringly low-cut, with delicate straps barely holding it up, and an almost bare back. It hugs me perfectly, accentuating every curve. This is the third saree I’ve tried today, and something about this one makes my heart race.

“Now, this is a showstopper. Absolutely divine, darling!” Sarah exclaims, her designer’s eye sparkling with approval. “The way the crystals cascade down the neckline gives out this waterfall effect. And the cut...” She gestures animatedly. “It’s giving goddess energy meets the modern bride. The way it hugs your curves is freaking awesome. This blouse screams bold, sexy, and confident. It’s a statement piece, Simran. Trust me, you’re going to slay.”

She is absolutely right about every word she’s said. I adjust the pallu, watching how the fabric catches the light, glittering in its glory.

“It’s gorgeous, but isn’t it a bit too... revealing for a courthouse wedding?”

Sarah rolls her eyes dramatically.

“That’s the whole point, sweetie! By the time you and Vishnu finish signing those marriage papers, he won’t be able to wait to get you home and unwrap you like the present you are. He’s going to have so much fun peeling this off you. Trust me.”

My cheeks burn hotter, and I bite my lip, trying to wave off the vivid mental image her words stir up. The suffocating tension between Vishnu and me has been undeniable lately, each glance a spark threatening to ignite into an uncontrollable fire. And Sarah’s comment… well, it’s not far from the truth.

Just then, I feel the shift in the air and goosebumps ripple across my exposed back. That familiar sizzle returns, and I know he’s here even before I turn around. And when I finally do, my breath hitches at the sight of Vishnu standing in the doorway, his dark eyes drinking me in. I’ve never worn a saree in front of him before. And the way his jaw drops to the floor and his pupils dilate sends a thrill through me. His gaze feels like a caress, trailing fire across my skin as it moves from the low drape of my pallu to where the saree hugs my waist. My heart thunders as his intense gaze fixes on my exposed collarbone and the hint of cleavage peeking through the fabric. His jaw clenches, his eyes burning with a hunger that makes my knees go weak.

Sarah clears her throat pointedly.

“I’ll just... go fetch the groom’s attire.” She scurries out, but I barely notice, caught in Vishnu’s magnetic stare, as he steps into the room.

“How’s your mood today?” he asks.