Poornima moved through the grand hall of her flagship hotel, every detail scrutinized under her sharp, practiced gaze. Tables were aligned perfectly, cutlery gleamed, floral arrangements stood at precise angles—nothing left to chance. Today’s high-profile meeting was important. Her hotels, her restaurants, her hard work… everything had to reflect the success she had built from scratch.

The guests began arriving, their eyes taking in the luxury, the elegance, the seamless perfection of it all. Poornima’s chest swelled with a quiet pride, the satisfaction of a woman who had fought tooth and nail for her place in the world.

Then she felt it—a presence.

Veeresh.

His gaze swept the room like a predator searching for its prey. And then, he found her. Standing tall, confident, radiant in her element, a woman commanding respect and attention. His chest tightened, jaw clenched. She was more than just his wife—she was the force of her own making.

Without hesitation, he moved toward her. Before she could react, his hand found hers, pulling her into the midst of the crowd like a conqueror claiming his prize.

“Veeresh! Leave me!” Poornima hissed, her voice sharp, but not enough to break the crowd’s attention.

He leaned in, his eyes dark and commanding, lips close to her ear. “Shut up,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “You’re my wife, Poornima. So behave.”

Her eyes widened, a mixture of shock, indignation, and that old spark of defiance she could never quite snuff out.

“I… behave?” she whispered, trying to tug her hand free. “I’m not here to play your game!”

Veeresh’s grip didn’t loosen. He smirked, just enough to unnerve her, but his tone softened slightly, as if acknowledging the woman she had become. “You’re here, standing strong… but don’t forget whose wife you are. In public or private, I claim you. Always.”

Poornima’s breath caught, the weight of his words pressing against her. She hated him and wanted to resist—but even in her defiance, she couldn’t deny the pull, the claim, the possessiveness that had always terrified and thrilled her in equal measure.

Around them, the guests whispered, unaware of the storm simmering just between the two of them. Poornima squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze, fire in her eyes.

“You may claim me, Veeresh,” she said, voice steady despite the heat rising in her chest, “but I am still the woman I built. Never forget that.”

Veeresh’s smirk deepened. “Good,” he said, the crowd none the wiser. “That’s exactly how I like it.”

And with that, the two of them stood—wife and husband, adversaries and lovers, caught in the delicate dance of power, possession, and undeniable attraction.