Chapter 17 #2
"For the past three days," Shruti spoke into the microphone, "the media has questioned my presence in Italy, my safety in Mumbai, and my relationship with Mr. Akhil Raheja.
People have called me a victim. People have called me a civilian caught in a crossfire.
And just now... Mr. Raheja himself suggested that I deserve a 'safe, quiet' life far away from his world. "
A faint, playful smirk curved Shruti’s rosy lips as she looked dead into Akhil’s eyes.
"I would like to set the record straight," Shruti declared boldly.
She turned back to face the wall of news cameras, her voice echoing with fierce, breathtaking conviction.
"I am twenty-seven years old," Shruti stated proudly.
"I am a travel journalist who has navigated foreign jungles, crossed hostile mountain borders, and documented stories in remote corners of the earth.
I do not need a safe, quiet life. I do not need a man to build a golden cage around me to keep me comfortable.
And I certainly do not need anyone, including Mumbai's most formidable billionaire, deciding what is best for my heart! "
Raghav, sitting behind the table, covered his face with his hand, trying and failing to suppress a massive, proud grin. Vihaan let out a soft, appreciative whistle, while Myra clapped wildly from the front row.
Akhil sat frozen in his chair, his broad chest rising and falling with a heavy, ragged breath, staring at her in absolute, spellbound awe.
Shruti turned her body fully towards Akhil, stepping into his personal space, holding the microphone between them, her dark eyes shining with pure, unadulterated love.
"Akhil Raheja walked into an abandoned warehouse alone three nights ago," Shruti spoke, her voice softening into an intimate, romantic warmth that reached every corner of the silent hall.
"He walked into a trap of six armed mercenaries without a second thought for his own life, simply because he loves me.
He built an entire villa on Lake Como six years ago because he remembered a small paragraph I wrote in a magazine when I was twenty-one. "
Tears of pure joy glistened in Shruti’s dark eyes, though her voice remained steady as steel.
"He tried to stay away for eight long years out of respect for my brother and fear of his own dangerous world," Shruti continued, looking into Akhil’s eyes. "He thinks he is too dark, too reckless, and too dangerous for me. But he forgets one very important detail."
She took one step closer, placing her free hand gently over his broad chest, right over his hammering pulse.
"I choose the storm, Akhil," Shruti declared, her words falling like a sacred vow before the world. "I choose the chaos, I choose the adventure, and I choose every single second of this life with you. I don't want a safe world without you in it. I choose you, Akhil Raheja, reckless heart and all."
The entire press hall erupted into a deafening, thunderous roar of applause!
Journalists stood on their chairs, camera flashes exploded like fireworks, and news anchors began broadcasting the live footage across national networks.
On stage, Akhil felt as if his soul had been elevated to the stars.
All his lingering doubts, his protective guilt, his foolish fears, everything vanished in a single, magnificent second before her fierce, unwavering love.
Akhil stood up from his chair. Standing at his full, imposing height, he didn't care about the two hundred journalists watching.
He didn't care about the live television broadcast. He wrapped his broad, powerful arms around Shruti’s waist, pulled her small frame flush against his chest, and brought his lips down onto hers in a passionate, breathtaking kiss that claimed her before the entire world.
The auditorium went wild with cheering, Raghav and Vihaan clapping loudly, while Kavya wiped joyful tears from her eyes.
When Akhil finally broke the kiss for air, his dark eyes were burning with a blinding, divine light. He rested his forehead against hers, his hands holding her waist firmly, a rare, breathtaking smile breaking across his handsome face.
"You are completely unbelievable, Miss Malhotra," Akhil whispered, his deep voice thick with overwhelming love and emotional laughter. "You just confessed your love on live national television."
"I told you, Mr. Dictator," Shruti giggled softly, wrapping her arms securely around his neck. "Rule Number One has evolved. You're stuck with me forever."
"Best news of my life," Akhil murmured, kissing her forehead gently.
***
By six o'clock in the evening, the sun was slowly beginning to set over the western horizon of Mumbai.
The sky above Marine Drive, the famous 'Queen's Necklace' promenade, was painted in breathtaking, magnificent shades of fiery crimson, dusty violet, and liquid gold.
The dark, rolling waves of the Arabian Sea crashed rhythmically against the concrete sea wall, spraying cool white foam into the warm evening air.
A sleek black sports car pulled up to the private parking curve near the southern end of the promenade.
Akhil stepped out of the driver's side. He had removed his suit jacket and tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt, rolling his sleeves up to his forearms.
He walked around to the passenger side, opening the door for Shruti.
Shruti stepped out onto the cool concrete, looking around at the familiar coastline with a warm, nostalgic smile.