The air in the palace gardens was cool, heavy, and intoxicating, saturated with the rich scent of blooming raat ki rani [night-blooming jasmine] and damp earth. Ananya stepped off the warm marble terrace, lifting the heavy silk hem of her blush-pink lehenga [traditional long skirt] so it wouldn't sweep across the dewy grass.
Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, refusing to slow down. She couldn't shake the memory of what had happened just an hour ago inside the courtyard.
She remembered the moment she had started her descent down the grand marble staircase, holding the bride’s heavy silk train. The laughter, the clinking of crystal glasses, and the swell of the live sitar had felt distant, like background noise. But then her eyes had casually drifted upward toward the elevated VIP balcony.
There he had been.
Ranveer Singhania had stood above the crowd like a king overlooking his domain. Even from a distance, his presence had been overwhelming—broad-shouldered, impossibly tall, and dressed in a tailored black sherwani [traditional formal jacket] that made him look like a dark shadow amidst the pastel-clad elite. She had watched him leaning slightly against the carved marble railing, speaking to Kabir and a group of high-society executives. He hadn't been laughing like the rest of them. His posture had been rigid, authoritative, commanding total absolute control over the conversation without saying more than a few words.
And then, as if sensing her gaze, he had turned his head.
Their eyes had locked through the soft, amber glow of the hanging brass lanterns. Ananya remembered the exact second her breath had hitched in her throat. His dark eyes hadn't held polite curiosity; they had held a raw, unashamedly possessive intensity that had sent a sudden wave of heat straight to her core. It felt as if the temperature in the open courtyard had spiked instantly. Her fingers had trembled against the bride’s silk train, a deep blush creeping up her neck as her pulse spiraled out of control. Standing beside powerful men in business suits, he looked like a dangerous predator, and for reasons she couldn't comprehend, his dark gaze had been fixed entirely on her.
"Looking for quiet, Jaan [my life]?"
The deep, gravelly voice cut through the stillness of the garden, shattering her thoughts and sending an undeniable shiver straight down Ananya’s spine.
She turned around abruptly, her silver payal [anklet bells] chiming softly against the quiet night.
Standing beneath the shadow of a grand rose archway was Ranveer. He had removed his heavy jacket, his crisp white shirt clinging to his broad chest and broad shoulders, the top button casually undone. In the dim lantern light, he looked even more intimidating than he had on the balcony.
"I... I was just getting some fresh air," Ananya stammered, her voice shaking as she backed away until her spine hit the cool marble pillar. Her small hands clutched her dupatta [scarf] tightly across her chest like a shield. "I should go back inside. My friends are waiting."
"Stay," Ranveer commanded softly. It was not a request.
He closed the distance between them in slow, deliberate steps, trapping her against the pillar until there was no space left between them. The scent of sandalwood, expensive leather, and rain completely surrounded her. He leaned down, his dark, piercing eyes searching her face with an intensity that made her lightheaded.
"Tum kitni khoobsurat ho [You are so beautiful]," he murmured in a low, velvet tone.
Ananya’s cheeks burned crimson. "Sir, please... we don't even know each other."
Ranveer reached out, his warm, rough fingers gently catching a loose strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear where fresh gajra [jasmine garland] rested. His fingers lingered, tracing the soft line of her jaw down to her neck. Ananya gasped at the electric touch, her eyes fluttering shut before snapping open in sheer panic.
"My name is Ranveer Singhania," he whispered, his thumb lightly caressing her lower lip. "Aur tum ab se meri ho [And you are mine from now on]."
His words were so possessive, so dangerously confident, that Ananya felt completely paralyzed under his spell.
Before she could gather her senses, footsteps echoed down the corridor. "Ananya? Where are you?" called a bridesmaid from afar.
Breaking the magnetic pull between them, Ananya quickly gathered her skirt and hurried away, her heart wild in her chest. Ranveer watched her blush-pink silhouette disappear into the light, a slow, ruthless smile touching his lips.
"Tumhein toh main apna bana kar rahunga [I will make you mine no matter what]."
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