The sun had barely begun to set as Mumbai transitioned into its nighttime glow, the golden hues giving way to city lights and the hum of life. After the encounter at the Armani store—after Aditya Singh's subtle but pointed flirtation—an unusual silence had lingered between Ryan Ashworth and Jane Blackwood.
Jane had said nothing then. She had only smiled at Ryan's firm reaction and watched as he gently but clearly showed where he stood. But even without words, something had shifted.
Later that evening, she told him to change into something sharp and follow her. No explanations. Just a quiet glance, a glint in her grey eyes, and a note: Dinner. No questions.
Now, Ryan stood on the rooftop of The Oberoi, Mumbai, dressed in a sleek navy-blue shirt and tailored pants. The entire upper deck had been reserved—candles floated in glass bowls on the edges of the terrace, and a small table sat near the balustrade with a panoramic view of the Arabian Sea. The ambient light softened the buzz of the city below.
He blinked in awe, rubbing his neck as he looked around. "You booked out the whole place?"
Jane walked up beside him in a deep wine-red evening gown, a slit up one leg and thin straps that framed her shoulders with a kind of effortless elegance. "I have good connections," she said coolly. "And I thought we deserved something… peaceful. Private."
Ryan flushed lightly, remembering how his possessiveness had flared in Armani when Aditya had leaned too close to Jane. How his voice had cracked when he tried to stand his ground. How he had bought a couple's watch, not out of impulse—but instinct. A quiet gesture. A claim, unspoken but deeply meant.
He took his seat, still a little flustered, and cleared his throat. "You didn't have to go all out like this."
Jane tilted her head. "Didn't I? You were jealous today."
Ryan's ears turned red. "I wasn't— I mean… I just didn't like how he—"
She leaned forward across the candlelit table, her voice low and teasing. "You wanted to stake your claim, didn't you, Mr. Ashworth?"
He looked away. "I… maybe."
She smiled. "I liked it."
He blinked. "You did?"
Jane nodded slowly. "It's nice to know I'm not the only one who feels… a little possessive sometimes."
The waiter arrived with their first course—pan-seared scallops with saffron sauce. As they ate, the tension gradually melted. The sea breeze played with Jane's hair. Ryan found himself watching her more openly than before, not just admiring her beauty, but the way she moved, the confidence in her gestures, and the vulnerability she tried to hide behind playful sarcasm.
"I really liked today," he said after a moment, poking at his plate.
"The movie or the shopping?"
He grinned. "Both. But mostly being with you."
She raised a brow, sipping her wine. "You're getting bolder."
He smiled shyly. "It's your fault. You're making it hard to stay shy."
Their main course arrived—grilled sea bass with lemon herb risotto. As they continued eating, Ryan finally found the courage to voice what had been sitting in his chest since the Armani store.
"Jane…" he began carefully. "I was thinking... maybe we should start acting more like a couple. In public, I mean. We don't really show it. No rings, no handholding. No one even knows we're married."
For a moment, Jane said nothing. She stared out at the ocean, the flickering candlelight dancing in her grey eyes.
Then her voice came, cool but sincere. "And are you ready for what that means?"
Ryan blinked. "What do you mean?"
Jane met his gaze. "If you walk beside me in public—as my husband—you're no longer invisible. You'll become a target. My world isn't soft or kind, Ryan. It's a battlefield with smiling faces. My enemies aren't just rivals; they're snakes. Politicians. CEOs. Arms dealers and that will be least of your concern .
For a moment, Jane said nothing. She stared out at the ocean, the flickering candlelight dancing in her grey eyes.
Then her voice came, cool but sincere. "And are you ready for what that means?"
Ryan blinked. "What do you mean?"
Jane met his gaze. "If you walk beside me in public—as my husband—you're no longer invisible. You'll become a target. My world isn't soft or kind, Ryan. It's a battlefield with smiling faces. My enemies aren't just rivals; they're the families."
She set down her glass, her tone sobering. "There are four other major families other than mine who keep track of each other family and they overview reports of every family members so , they can take down each other . If they learn about you… they won't stop at curiosity. They'll want information. Leverage. They'll try to get to you—to pull something out of you or to break you down. They'll use every resource they have—money, manipulation, even torture. Everything at their disposal to learn what you mean to me… and how to use it."
Ryan's expression turned serious. "I'm not afraid of them."
Jane's lips parted slightly. Then she gave a short, almost pained laugh. "That's the problem. You barely understand what to be afraid of."
Her grey eyes turned sharp. "You've been training for two months. That's admirable, Ryan. Truly. But the children of those families—boys and girls—have been trained since the moment they could walk. Combat, manipulation, seduction, surveillance. It's not just strategy to them… it's second nature. You're still learning how to survive. They were raised knowing how to kill, how to dismantle lives while smiling."
Ryan looked down, the weight of her words anchoring him in place. "Then what do we do? Keep hiding? Keep pretending we're not married?"
Jane sighed, then reached out, her fingers brushing his. "I'm not ashamed of you, Ryan. I never have been. But I can't risk losing you. Not again."
Her voice softened. "I know you belong to me. And I belong to you. I just don't need to shout it to the world yet. And neither should you."
A pause.
"Besides," she added, voice laced with a teasing glint again, "if it ever came to it, I can always change your identity. No one would know. You could vanish into shadows and help me from behind the scenes. We'd still be together."
Ryan managed a small laugh, but his heart swelled at her sincerity. Beneath all her poise and fire, Jane Blackwood's fear wasn't of weakness—but of love. Of having something she couldn't afford to lose.
He squeezed her hand gently. "Then I'll stay close. Even in the dark. Even in the shadows."
Her fingers curled around his, tighter than before.
"You're mine," she whispered. "Don't forget that."
"I won't," he whispered back.
They stood later at the rooftop's edge, the sea breeze cool against their skin. Jane rested her head on Ryan's shoulder, his arm slipping around her waist without hesitation.
"I never needed the honeymoon," she murmured. "What I needed… was this. Just you. Beside me."
Ryan kissed her hair, closing his eyes. "We'll get there. After the revenge. After everything."
She smiled, slow and content. "Just don't take too long. I've waited long enough."