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My face flushes as I remember six nights ago, when I’d pulled away from him, claiming I wasn’t in the mood. The memory of his frustrated groan still haunts me in my dreams.

“I’m always in a good mood when I’m working,” I manage to say, though my voice isn’t as steady as I’d like.

His lips twitch in a smirk as he nods slowly. His eyes darken as they make another deliberate journey across my body. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, and when he finally meets my gaze again, my heart skips a beat.

“Is this what you’re wearing for our wedding?”

I lift my chin, trying to keep my composure despite the flutter in my stomach.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I say, my voice steady. “Why? Does it bother you?”

“Yes, it does. I don’t want every man in the courthouse to forget why they’re there. It’s… it’s too revealing for the wedding. So, you’re not wearing it.”

Again, an order!! I arch a brow, my determination returning full force.

“Actually, you know what?” I goad him. “I’m saving outfits like these for after the wedding. To torture you daily, until you stop ordering me all the time.”

Before I can blink, he grabs my wrist and pulls me closer, his breath hot against my face.

“What do you want me to do then?” His voice is tight with frustration. “Do nothing when some other man tries to cross a line with you, just because you don’t see it as crossing a line in your world?”

“Vishnu—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“No, let me finish.” His grip on my wrist loosens but he doesn’t let go. “You think I’m being controlling when I make decisions about us? When I insist on knowing your schedule? When I have concerns about certain people around you?” His jaw clenches. “Everything I do is to protect what’s ours. This relationship. Our future family.”

“Fine. But I’m mature enough to make my own decisions,” I counter, but he shakes his head.

“You’re brilliant at business, Simran. But politics? The vultures who circle around me, waiting for that one weakness to exploit? The people who’d use you to get to me? You know nothing of it.” His other hand comes up to cup my face. “You don’t see the undercurrents. The dangers. When I tell you to avoid certain social circles, it’s not control—it’s self-preservation.”

“And hence, coming to your biggest worry about me making all the decisions for us...” His eyes bore into mine, intense and unyielding. “I don’t think that’s even up for discussion. I am more capable than you to protect us, and if you call that controlling, then so be it.” He takes a deep breath. “Every choice we make affects our future. Where we live, who we associate with, how we present ourselves to the world—one wrong move in my position, and it could destroy everything we’re going to build together.”

His voice drops even lower, each word precise and measured.

“When I tell you to change your plans, it’s because I see the bigger picture. When I ask you to trust my judgement about people, it’s because I’ve seen what happens when you don’t. I’ve spent years in this world, Simran. Years learning which smiles hide daggers and which handshakes come with hooks.”

His thumb traces my cheekbone, the gentle touch at odds with his firm words.

“Yes, I’m controlling, and this control will never slip, Simran. Not for anyone... Not even for you. Because losing control means losing you, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

I take a step closer, emboldened by the way his jaw clenches.

“But you can’t expect me to act dumb and abide by your decisions all the time, Vishnu. I have a mind of my own. I know whom to trust, whom to keep close, and whom to ignore.” My voice grows stronger with each word. “Thankfully, Zane didn’t let your over-possessive interruption the other day go any further, or I’d have so much more to lose.”

The mention of Zane makes his eyes darken dangerously, but I press on. “And most importantly, you can’t just give me an order and expect me to follow blindly, like you did with our wedding date or when you asked me to clear my schedule for a month to go to India. Your alpha male routine will not work on me all the time, if that’s what you think.”

I poke a finger into his chest to prove my point.

“If I don’t make you lose that infamous control and meet me halfway in this relationship, then I’ll do whatever you say.”

He remains silent, which only encourages me further.

“And as for what I’m wearing for the wedding, I’ll wear whatever pleases me,” I continue. “You can’t make every decision for us. I’ll wear what I want and do what I want, until you give me my equal place in this relationship.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw.

“And just so you know,” I lean in slightly, “a wife has many ways of making her husband agree to her demands.”

His brows arch, challenging me to name them.