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I turn back to face him, smiling.

“I will invite Zane as the guest at our wedding tomorrow, but you need to be good to him.” My fingers trace his stubbled jaw before I turn toward the bathroom, knowing the unzipped dress is giving him quite a view. It’s all a game of power play between us—this push and pull, this give and take—and we both love every second of it.

VISHNU

I sit on the couch in the apartment across from Simran’s, nodding absentmindedly as Abhay lays out tomorrow’s plans. The team will get into Zane’s apartment during his absence to search for any evidence linking him to the masked man. But honestly, I’m barely hearing a word. My mind keeps drifting back to what happened with Simran earlier—her boldness, the way she turned around and asked me to undress her, and how my control slipped yet again. The scent of her hair, that intoxicating perfume she always wears... I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her hair and her neck. If she hadn’t walked away, teasing me with that bare-backed view as if daring me to follow, I would’ve lost it and taken her right then and there. She knows exactly what her little seductive moves do to me.

Tomorrow is our wedding, and the anticipation of our future together is consuming me. The idea of calling her my wife, of Veer being officially and publicly acknowledged as my son… it has done something to me. I can’t stay aloof anymore. I want them around me constantly. When did I become so dependent on having them near me always? When did I start craving this—a family, my wife, my son—every second of every day?

The sudden silence pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance at Abhay, who is staring at me with his arms crossed.

“Why did you stop?” I ask, frowning.

“Because you’re not listening,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow. “You’re lost in another world, Vishnu. Is this about tomorrow?”

A smirk tugs at my lips despite myself. “Maybe.”

Abhay sighs and shakes his head as I stand, turning to the rest of the team.

“By tomorrow, we should have some update on Zane. Either we clear him from our suspicion list, or we link him to our masked man. Leave no room unchecked, and make sure he doesn’t suspect that someone was in his home when he returns... just in case he isn’t the one we’re looking for.”

My team nods, and I stride out of the apartment, heading back to Simran’s.

Dinner is a quiet and quick affair. After that, Simran heads to her bedroom to pack for our trip to India, while I check on Veer, who’s sleeping peacefully in his crib. When I step into her bedroom, she’s already busy packing. I lean against the doorframe and watch her. She moves gracefully, packing her and Veer’s stuff, completely unaware of how much she affects me.

Finally, she looks up and catches me staring.

“If you’re just going to stand there and burn holes into my back with those heated stares, you might as well come inside and help me pack.”

I push off the doorframe and walk toward her, taking over some of the packing. She hands me Veer’s toys, clothes and medicines, and I place them neatly in the suitcase. Then she hands me a pile of her lingerie, and I can’t help the heat that rises in my gaze as I take them from her.

The look in her eyes tells me she planned this. “See?” she teases, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We are not even married yet, and I’ve already got you to help me out. At this rate, it won’t be long before you admit I have a say in everything and agree to my terms without protest.”

She really knows how to push my buttons.

I move toward her, and she steps back, grinning widely, clearly pleased with her ability to provoke me. But just as she does that, her foot catches the edge of the bed, and she falls backwards with a soft bounce onto the mattress. Her grin falters, but only slightly. If she thinks I’ll stop and let her off the hook, she’s so wrong.

Without breaking eye contact, I place one knee on the bed, then the other, and crawl toward her with deliberate slowness. Her breath hitches, and her grin vanishes entirely. Now it’s her turn to swallow hard.

“Don’t think you can sway me with your tricks and charm,” I murmur, my voice low as I gaze down at her. “Because whatever you throw my way, they’ll crumble before the resolve of your husband.”

Her lips part, as if to speak, but I silence her with a kiss. Like every time, it starts slow, teasing, but quickly grows deeper, hungrier as I slide my rough palms beneath the fabric of her nightgown. Her skin is warm, soft, and the feel of it beneath my fingertips drives me wild. Her hands clutch at my shoulders as I deepen the kiss, my tongue exploring her mouth with slow, sensual strokes. She tastes like honey, sweet and intoxicating, and I can’t get enough of her. She moans softly into my mouth, her body arching into mine as my hands hover over the thin lace of her satin panties.

I break our kiss reluctantly, pulling back to search her eyes, seeking confirmation that she wants this as much as I do. My control is hanging by a thread tonight. Everything about Simran tests my restraint. When I hear her breath hitch, my control shatters further. Just as I’m about to slip my fingers beneath the delicate fabric, a movement on the baby monitor catches my eye. Veer is awake, and the faintest sound of his cry reaches my ears.

“Veer,” I say quickly, already pulling away and getting off the bed. The haze of desire clears instantly, replaced by the instinctual need to tend to our son. Simran glances at the monitor, too, her movements unsteady as she sits up.

“He slept without his meals, so he might be hungry now,” she says, but I’m already heading for the nursery.

“I’ll check on him.”

As soon as I enter the nursery and lift Veer into my arms, he starts mouthing at my t-shirt hungrily, his little hands clutching the fabric in desperation.

“Just two minutes and your mumma will be here to feed you,” I murmur, but he’s not having it. His face scrunches up, the telltale sign of an impending meltdown. He starts making those frustrated sounds that always break my heart, his little body squirming in my arms as tears well up in his eyes.

“Alright, alright,” I murmur, gently rocking him in my arms to calm him. “Mumma’s coming. Just hold on.”

Thankfully, Simran appears with his bottle of milk, but the moment she takes him and tries to feed him, Veer pushes the bottle aside with all his might. His face tells us both what he wants—no substitutes tonight. She then settles into the small sofa, positioning him gently in her lap to nurse him.