chapter 21
Rudra’s POV
The moment she stepped inside my office, everything else ceased to matter.
The boardroom, the contracts, the deadlines — all blurred into white noise the second I saw her eyes widen like a curious child. “Wow, Rudra… it’s so beautiful,” she said, her voice soft and full of awe.
God, she doesn’t even know — it’s not the office that’s glowing. It’s her.
She stood there in that simple pastel kurta, her hair falling loose over her shoulders, her bangles clinking gently as she looked around. And I stood there like an idiot — watching her like she hung the moon itself.
“Come, jaan,” I murmured, holding out my hand. “Let’s eat.”
We walked over to the couch — but the second she was about to sit beside me, I couldn’t help it. I pulled her gently into my lap, wrapping my arms around her waist like second nature.
I swear her little gasp sent a shiver down my spine.
“Rudra!” she whispered, swatting at me with the weakest attempt. “Kya kar rahe ho? Someone will see—”
I buried my face in the crook of her neck, letting my lips brush against her skin, inhaling the lavender she always wore. “Let them,” I said with a smile. “I want the whole world to see exactly who you belong to.”
She wriggled slightly, her hands awkwardly gripping my shoulder, her cheeks crimson. “I didn’t come here for this — I brought lunch,” she murmured, already flustered.
“And yet,” I whispered into her ear, “you’re in my arms again.”
She turned away, hiding her face like she always does when she’s shy. That soft pout forming on her lips.
“Shameless man,” she huffed.
I chuckled, my hand slipping along her side, brushing against the curve of her waist. “Me? Shameless?” I teased, letting my lips graze her earlobe, “But jaan, this morning… wasn’t it you who was moaning my name while clutching the sheets like your life depended on it?”
Her body tensed in my arms.
Got her.
“Rudra!” she squeaked, hitting my chest, her face buried deeper into my shoulder. I held her tighter.
Her warmth. Her scent. Her soft trembling in my arms.
I live for this.
As she buried her face into Rudra’s chest, her laughter stifled and cheeks flushed, the office around them ceased to exist — only two hearts wrapped in a warmth the world could never touch.
"You're impossible," she mumbled against his shirt, her fingers playing with the collar like a child hiding her mischief.
"And yet you still fell in love with me," he replied with a cocky grin, lifting her chin with a knuckle so he could see her eyes — eyes that still carried that stubborn fire and endless softness.
She pouted. "Shayad meri galti thi."
He tsked. “Badi bhari galti, jaan. Now you’ll pay.”
With that, he picked up the lunchbox and set it on the table beside them. But instead of letting her go, he pulled her tighter in his lap, grabbing a spoonful of food. “Open your mouth.”
Her eyes widened. “Rudra… not here"
“Shhh,” he whispered, his lips brushing her temple. “You fed me your love, now let me feed you mine.”
Blushing like a rose in June, she opened her mouth and he fed her gently — watching her like a lovesick fool.
Each bite came with a kiss on her cheek. A spoon for her, a spoon for him. Her dupatta fell from her shoulder, and he fixed it without a word, placing a kiss right where it belonged.
As she finished the last bite, he leaned close again. “This food is nice, jaan. But next time…”
She raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”
He smirked. “Next time, I want you. Only you. Wearing nothing but an apron.”
Her eyes widened in horror and amusement as she slapped his arm. “Rudra!”
He just laughed, catching her hand mid-air, pressing it to his lips. “Too late, fireheart. I’ve already pictured it.”
The knock on the door snapped us from our bubble. I cursed mentally. Of course. Perfect timing as always.
I gently lifted her off my lap, letting my hands linger for a second longer than necessary before placing her beside me. She looked flushed, still catching her breath from all the teasing.
"Come in," I said, my voice firm again, sliding into my CEO tone.
Vipul stepped in, not making eye contact—smart man.
"Boss, the meeting is about to start. All board members and clients are ready," he said quickly, as if he couldn’t wait to get out.
"Alright. I'll be there in five," I nodded.
Vipul gave a swift nod and exited, practically sprinting. Poor guy. The sight of his mafia boss being a hopeless romantic must’ve messed with his head.
I turned to my jaan—my fireheart. She was smoothing her hair, pretending to be composed, but I could see the faint smile on her lips.
“Jaan, you stay here. I’ll finish the meeting and then we can go home,” I said softly, brushing her hair back and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She looked up at me, eyes glowing with affection.
"Okay. But don’t take too long, Mr. India," she teased.
I smirked, walking backwards toward the door, still watching her. “I’ll wrap it up faster than ever, Mrs. India. You’ve given me a much better reason to hurry.”
Then I stepped out—my empire could wait a little. But I’ll make damn sure nothing and no one pulls me away from her again for long.
I sat at the head of the table, arms folded, aura cold.
“Let’s skip the charity talk,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “Now speak — what’s the update on our Sicily route?”
One of the men—Raghav, my logistics head—straightened nervously. “We’ve doubled the distribution through the Sicilian port, Boss. No trace left behind, the Italians are happy. But there’s pressure building from the Interpol side—rumors they might sniff around the Valencia shipment.”
“Then change the scent,” I said calmly, sipping my black coffee. “Divert the next load through Morocco. Tell our men to rotate faces. No pattern, no trail.”
Everyone nodded.
“Next,” I said.
Aryan, still shaken from earlier, cleared his throat. “On the legitimate side — our textile front in Turkey is booming. Market demand has increased by 31%, and we’ve gained two European contracts. We’re projecting ?800 crores by Q3 if we maintain supply.”
I gave a tight nod. “Push it to ?1000 crores. Start digital marketing aggressively"
“And about the Deol syndicate?” I asked.
Vipul stepped forward. “They tried intercepting our Karachi deal last week. Sent threats.”
I leaned back with a slow smirk. “Have they forgotten who owns Karachi’s east dock?”
“They remember now. After we sent one of their men back in pieces.”
“Good,” I said. “But don’t be subtle next time. Burn their warehouses. All of them. I want their ashes to smell like fear.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“And make sure the media doesn’t get wind of this,” I added, eyes locked on Aryan. “I’ve had enough scandals — especially when my wife’s name is dragged in.”
“Already handled,” Vipul assured. “We have the journalists fed and the evidence buried.”
I leaned back in my chair, jaw tight, fingers drumming slowly on the glass table. The room was silent, heavy with tension and anticipation.
“I don’t want excuses, Vipul,” I said, voice low but lethal. “I want answers.”
Vipul lowered his gaze. “Yes, Boss. We’ve put the best cyber unit and intel team on it. We tapped Swetha’s past communications again and about that k we're aren't still couldn't figure out, but don't worry boss we'll do soon"
Author POV
Ishni stepped out of Rudra’s office, her eyes wandering with curiosity and admiration as she slowly walked through the sleek, marbled corridors of Rajput Empire Industries.
“Ahh… it’s beautiful,” she whispered, her fingers lightly brushing over the glass railing. Her eyes sparkled like stars. “My husband is great.”
The grand structure echoed power and elegance — but to her, it wasn’t the empire that took her breath away. It was the man behind it.
Every employee she passed stood straighter, their gazes shifting between reverence and disbelief.
Unbothered, Ishni kept walking, her soft heels clicking on the marble floor as she admired the vibrant wall of art in the executive gallery — all curated under Rudra’s name. She paused in front of one frame. A framed quote.
"The only crown I ever wore proudly was being hers."
– Rudra Singh Rajput
A soft gasp escaped her lips. Her fingers grazed the glass as her heart fluttered.
“Yeh pagal aadmi...” she mumbled with a smile.
She didn’t know her every step was being watched through the black mirrored wall of the conference room, where Rudra sat — half paying attention to the conversation and fully drawn to the sight of her smile.
He smirked, lips barely moving.
“She’s roaming around like she owns the place… and she does.”
Randomly walking, Ishni wandered deeper into the executive wing. Her fingers trailed lazily over the textured wallpaper until she absentmindedly pushed open a door — unaware of the meeting happening inside.
Inside sat a handful of foreign clients and directors — all older men, smug in their suits, drinks in hand.
The moment she stepped in, their eyes snapped to her.
Startled, she blinked, realizing the room wasn’t empty. “Oh—I’m so sorry,” she said, backing away instinctively.
But before she could close the door, a voice stopped her.
“Hey, beautiful... wait.”
She paused, frown forming.
“Who are you?” the man asked with a crooked smile, eyes scanning her figure inappropriately.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she replied, her voice cool, chin held high. “Keep your mouth shut... if you want to stay alive.”
The man laughed — and so did the others, their faces dripping with arrogance.
“Oho, such words, darling. Fiery tongue… but baby, you look better with your mouth shut,” another chuckled, swirling his drink.
She scoffed, disgust flashing across her face.
But before she could respond — the air dropped ten degrees.
The heavy double doors flew open behind her with a crash.
And there stood Rudra Singh Rajput.
Jaw clenched. Eyes blazing. Aura suffocating.
In two long strides, he was beside her, gently pulling her behind him.
He turned to face the room of now pale, frozen men.
“You dared—” he spoke slowly, voice venom-laced, “—to look at her.”
“Vipul!” Rudra barked.
“Yes, boss!” Vipul appeared immediately.
“Seal this room. No one leaves. Boardroom lockdown.”
The clients began to stutter, some standing. “Mr. Rajput, we didn’t kn—”
“Exactly. You didn’t know she’s my wife. But you should have known I don’t tolerate filth,” Rudra hissed.
They all looked terrified.
The very air in the room felt like it had frozen — choked under Rudra Singh Rajput’s presence.
Without saying a word, he walked over to his chair — the massive, commanding leather throne that overlooked every meeting, every deal, every life-and-death decision in this empire.
Except today... he didn’t sit.
He turned to Ishni, gently guided her by the waist, and helped her sit down on it.
His throne... command center...symbol of absolute power.
And today, it belonged to his queen.
“Sit here, jaan,” he said softly. “Because this kingdom now watches you rule.”
Then, he turned back to the trembling clients and directors.
Voice calm. Dangerous.
“Kneel.”
They hesitated, unsure if he was serious.
“I said kneel.”
This time, it wasn’t a request. It was a sentence.
One by one — foreign clients, billionaire investors, senior directors — all dropped to their knees like dominos, heads bowed, shame seeping into the marble floor beneath them.
Ishni sat silently, regal, chin held high. Her eyes burned, but her heart pounded with disbelief.
The man who ruled fear… made the world kneel for her dignity.
Rudra walked slowly behind them, his hands behind his back like a general inspecting broken soldiers.
He stood tall beside her, voice cold, steady, and dangerously calm.
“She’s the Queen of my empire,” he said, every word heavy with authority. “And the next time you speak about a woman like that…”
He took a few slow steps forward, his boots echoing through the dead silence. His eyes locked on the man who dared call his wife “darling.”
“…pray it’s not the wife of a devil.”
That man’s face turned pale, his forehead slick with sweat.
Rudra didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t need to. Power wrapped around him like a cloak, and the scent of fear clung to the men kneeling.
He turned back to Ishni—his expression softening, the brutal king turning into a devoted husband in seconds.
“Go to my office, jaan,” he said, gently brushing her hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back soon.”
Ishni’s chin lifted with quiet grace. She gave him a small nod and rose from his chair, walking past the kneeling men—each of them unable to lift their heads.
The moment Ishni walked out,the atmosphere shifted like a lightning bolt had struck the room.
The warmth that graced Rudra’s eyes moments ago vanished—replaced by something darker. Something ancient. Dangerous.
He stood still, facing the now trembling men who dared mock the queen of the empire.
“You thought you were sitting in a boardroom,” he said, voice calm… too calm. “But you walked into a graveyard.”
One of the clients dared to lift his head—only to be met with the cold barrel of a silencer pressed against his forehead.
“You laughed,” Rudra whispered.
“No—no, boss—I didn’t mean—” the man stammered, face drained of color.
Bang.
Blood splattered across the mahogany table, the body slumping forward, lifeless. Screams erupted, but Rudra didn’t flinch.
He slowly walked around the table, dragging a blade—yes, a blade—across its surface like a violinist tuning his strings.
“You see… I run this business on respect. Loyalty. Fear,” he said, tilting his head. “And what I saw today was filth. Disrespect. Rotten teeth gnawing at my home.”
Another director tried to crawl away. Rudra kicked the chair into his spine, sending him crashing to the ground.
“Did I give you permission to move?” Rudra asked darkly.
“No—no please don’t—” the man cried.
“You disrespected my wife.” Rudra's voice was a whisper now. “The air you breathe in this building is hers. You looked at her with filth in your eyes. So I’ll return the favor…”
He grabbed the man’s jaw and slammed his head onto the table with a sickening crack. Blood poured. Teeth shattered.
Vipul stood silently by the door—eyes lowered, not moving an inch.
By the time Rudra was done, blood had soaked into the imported carpets. Two were unconscious. One was dead. The rest trembled like children lost in a nightmare.
“Clean this up,” Rudra said flatly to Vipul, tossing the bloodied knife onto the table. “And replace every chair.”
He straightened his jacket, fixing a drop of blood from his cuff, then turned toward the door.
Because a devil may burn cities, may bleed kings,
But for his queen—he becomes wrath itself.
Rudra’s POV
I walked out of the blood-smeared boardroom, leaving behind the broken whimpers of cowards who mistook my silence for softness.
They forgot who I am.
I adjusted the cuffs of my shirt, My pace was calm, but every step was laced with fire.
Because while I am a storm to the world—I am a shelter to her.
As I reached my office door, I paused for a moment. Just hearing her soft humming from inside—completely unaware of the hell I’d just unleashed—was enough to tame the monster raging in my veins.
I opened the door.
She was sitting cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through her phone, a little crease on her forehead, completely lost in something—probably reading about some new law amendment.
“Jaan,” I said gently.
She looked up and smiled—my god, that smile could make even the dead rise.
I pulled her close, burying my face in her neck. I inhaled deeply, as if I needed her just to breathe again.
Burying my face deeper into her neck, I held her like the world was trying to steal her from me.
"No one can disrespect you... no one," I whispered, my voice rough, low — as if the words themselves were carved from vengeance.
She let out a soft breath, her fingers moving gently through my hair, grounding me, soothing the chaos that always lingered beneath my skin.
"Rudra..." she said, voice calm, soft like silk. "I'm fine."
But she didn’t understand.
Fine wasn’t enough for me.
I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, my grip on her arms still firm, protective, desperate. “You don’t get it, jaan… I’ve built this empire with blood — bled for it, burned for it — but if they even look at you the wrong way, I’ll raze it to the ground.”
Her eyes widened slightly, not with fear, but with something deeper — something that mirrored the storm in mine.
She reached up, her thumb brushing the edge of my jaw.
“You don’t need to burn the world, Rudra,” she whispered. “You already own it.”
I couldn’t stop the small smirk that tugged at my lips. Damn this woman.
My woman.
I leaned in, kissing her forehead gently, letting my breath linger there like a silent promise.
“They just don’t understand what happens when someone disrespects my queen,” I said softly, “But they will.”
She sighed, leaning into my chest, surrendering to the comfort of my arms.
Time skip
Author pov
Rudra drove with one hand on the wheel and the other possessively resting on Ishni’s thigh. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was thick with comfort, warmth, and something deeper—unspoken promises exchanged in glances and light touches.
They reached home just as the golden dusk kissed the edge of the sky. The mansion stood tall, regal, like it belonged to a king. But inside… was the only place Rudra ever let his crown fall.
He opened her door before she could, always the gentleman for his queen, and laced their fingers as they walked inside.
Ishni kicked off her heels with a sigh, her body slumping slightly. “Ugh… your office is nice, but your lap is more comfortable,” she said with a playful wink.
Rudra let out a deep chuckle, pulling her closer. “That’s because it was made just for you, jaan.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned into him, her hands slipping beneath his blazer as she rested her forehead against his chest.
The warm glow of the chandelier cast a golden hue across the dining table as Rudra and Ishni sat across from each other, their plates half full, the silence between them filled with comfort and unsaid emotions.
Rudra watched her intently as she scooped a bite of rice, his elbow resting on the table, chin propped on his knuckles.
His eyes weren’t on the food—but on her face, the little expressions she made, the way her nose crinkled when the curry was too spicy, how she slightly swayed while chewing, lost in thought.
“You know,” he finally said, voice low and lazy, “you look dangerously cute when you're busy fighting with food.”
Ishni looked up mid-bite, eyebrows raised. “Oh really? Then you must look like a full villain when you glare at your plate like it murdered someone.”
Rudra chuckled, licking the tip of his fork. “Only because this food isn’t you.”
She rolled her eyes, blushing slightly. “Shameless.”
“Yours.”
He leaned in, fingers brushing hers across the table, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I could give up blood and guns for this peace, you know.”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “The world might need your fire. But I… I just need you like this.”
He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “You’ll always have me like this, jaan.. The world gets the devil. You get the man behind it.”
She gave him a soft smile, her eyes warm but guarded.
“Promise?”
He stood slowly, walked around the table and kneeled beside her chair, resting his cheek against her lap. “On my name. On my empire. On every bullet I’ve ever fired… I’m yours, and I always will be.”
After dinner, the air between them was warm and comforting.
Ishni placed the last of the plates in the sink while Rudra leaned against the kitchen counter, silently watching her.
There was a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips — the kind of smile that only belonged to her.
Quietly, without saying anything, he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
---
In the Bedroom
They both settled into bed, the soft rustle of sheets echoing as Ishni snuggled closer to him, her head resting against his chest, fingers tracing slow circles on his shirt. Rudra's arm wrapped protectively around her, fingers absentmindedly stroking her shoulder.
After a few moments of silence, her voice broke through the quiet.
Ishni (softly):
“Rudra…”
Rudra:
“Mm?” he responded, eyes closed, completely at peace with her in his arms.
Ishni:
“Since my name is clear… and I’ve got my license back... can I go back to work?”
Her words hung in the air like a stone dropped in still water. Rudra’s eyes opened slowly. He didn’t move — just let her continue resting there — but something in his chest shifted.
Rudra (calmly):
“You’re ready?”
She nodded, still curled into him. “I’ve been ready for a long time, Rudra. I just… I needed to know I wasn’t alone this time.”
There was a long pause. He tightened his grip around her.
Rudra:
“You’ll never be alone again. Not in this life or the next.”
She looked up at him. “Then you’re okay with me going back?”
He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. His thumb lingered on her cheekbone as he spoke:
Rudra (low and firm):
“They didn’t break you, Ishni. They tried. They dragged you through fire. But you walked out stronger than ever. You were always meant to fight for justice. And now… the world’s going to witness the storm you truly are.”
A small tear slipped down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb.
Rudra (smirking now):
“But make one thing clear in that courtroom…”
Ishni:
“What?”
Rudra (with a devilish glint):
“That you belong to the devil himself.”
She laughed through her tears, burying her face in his chest.
And that night, they held each other a little tighter — not out of fear, but of pride… and the quiet promise of rising together.
Next Day – Ishni’s POV
I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing out the crease on my black and white pant-suit. My fingers paused briefly over the collar—symbol of power, of fight, of everything I once lost. But today, I wasn’t trembling.
Not anymore.
I applied a bold red lipstick—my war paint. My shield.
The same lips the world once silenced... now carried the voice of a lawyer, reborn.
Just as I was about to step away, a warm presence appeared behind me, and I felt strong arms snake around my waist. His head rested on my shoulder.
“Rudra…” I said softly, trying to hide the smile forming on my lips. “I’m getting ready.”
“Mmm,” he hummed against my skin, “and I’m falling in love all over again.”
I rolled my eyes in the mirror, only to meet his gaze—those dangerous blue eyes that made every nerve in me short-circuit.
He kissed the side of my neck gently, his voice low and dark. “That lipstick should be illegal. You expect me to let you leave the house like this?”
I laughed quietly. “I have a courtroom to conquer, not a runway to seduce.”
Rudra smirked, spinning me slowly to face him. “Don’t care. You walk like a queen, talk like fire, and now you’re dressed like justice herself. How do you expect me to stay calm, Fireheart?”
“Rudra… don’t spoil my look,” I warned, breathless, even as my hands instinctively gripped his shoulders.
All I got in return was that infamous smirk. The one that screamed trouble.
He leaned in, standing between my legs, hands firm on my waist as if he owned the very air I breathed. “Too late, jaan. You walked out in that suit, that lipstick, that fire… and expected me to behave?”
I opened my mouth to argue—but his lips grazed my jawline, slow and deliberate.
“Rudra—” I gasped as his fingers trailed up my back, pulling me just a little closer.
“You think I care about courtrooms right now?” he whispered into my skin. “You looked in that mirror and saw a lawyer. But me? I saw mine.”
And before I could say another word — his lips were already on mine.
Kissing me like a storm breaking after a long drought.
Fierce. Desperate. As if the very air he breathed lived inside my lungs.
His hands tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against him, while mine instinctively gripped his shirt.
There was nothing gentle about it — it was wild, unrestrained. A kiss that tasted like obsession and ownership. Like he was trying to remind me with every breath, every press of his mouth, that no matter how far I rose, I’d always belong to him.
I gasped slightly against his lips, and that only made him deepen the kiss — his hand sliding up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing against my jaw as his mouth moved with an intoxicating hunger.
“Rudra…” I whispered, breathless, as he finally broke away.