As the evening dinner wrapped up in the warm glow of the Rawat dining room—laughter echoing faintly from the family’s light-hearted banter—Ishani felt her cheeks burn with the memory of their afternoon entanglement. The way Virat’s lips had grazed her skin, his breath hot against her neck, the forbidden thrill of his mouth trailing fire down her collarbone, shoulders, and the upper swell of her breasts—it all replayed in her mind like a steamy, illicit dream she couldn’t shake. Flustered, her body still humming with unwanted heat, she avoided his gaze entirely, murmuring quick goodnights and slipping away upstairs before he could follow too closely.

But Virat noticed.