📖 **CHAPTER TWELVE — "The First Night"**
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### 💌 Author Note — From Aish L'Inarrestabile:
> *"Miei lupi assetati di amore (my wolves starving for love)... He's claimed her in vows and bullets, but tonight? He worships her. Slowly. Obsessively. Completely. And when she walks out in that black saree? Baby, even the devil would drop to his knees. Welcome to the first night of a war that looks like devotion."*
> — *Aish L'Inarrestabile*
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### 🔄 **Recap from Chapter 11 — "The Mafia Wedding":**
Aira wore red.
Yuvraj shot a man mid-vow.
She bled nothing.
He bled for both of them.
They kissed before the mafia.
And someone dared fire a bullet at her that night.
Yuvraj shielded her, his voice calm but lethal:
> "Stay behind me, amore. Because someone just declared war on my wife."
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**AIRA**
After the chaos.
After the blood.
After the vow that shook every empire—
I changed.
But not just my name.
I changed into *his undoing.*
I stepped out onto the bedroom balcony in a **black saree** for the first time.
It was midnight silk, hugging every inch of me like I'd poured myself into sin.
The blouse?
Backless.
Held by a single, scandalous thread behind my neck.
Yuvraj was near the window.
He turned.
Saw me.
And forgot how to breathe.
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**YUVRAJ**
She wasn't just wearing black.
She was the funeral of my self-control.
That saree was dangerous. Deadly. Designed to ruin men.
But on *her*?
It was illegal.
The curve of her hip. The line of her back. The damn thread holding the blouse together—taunting me like a challenge.
She walked across the room slowly.
Knowing what she was doing.
Every step was war.
My jaw dropped.
I walked toward her like a storm ready to sin.
She turned her back.
Mistake.
I reached her.
One arm around her waist.
The other—sliding up her spine.
My lips pressed to the nape of her neck.
And I whispered—
> "Do you want me to beg, amore?
> Because I will.
> I'll drop to my knees right now.
> I'll say 'please' in ten languages.
> Just let me untie this thread and go insane."
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**AIRA**
I turned slowly. Placed my palm on his chest.
> "Hold on, Mr. Malhotra."
> "No touching yet."
He actually whimpered. **Whimpered.**
The mafia king.
The man who could burn cities.
Was begging in my arms.
> "Please, Aira…" he murmured. "Let me worship you tonight.
> No war. No blood. Just *us.*
> Just my lips on every inch of you like prayer."
And maybe it was the way he said it.
Maybe it was the way he looked at me.
Like I was something sacred and sinful all at once.
I nodded.
Once.
And his control snapped.
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**YUVRAJ**
She said yes.
And I became a man possessed.
Not with lust.
But with *love so violent*, it felt like peace.
I didn't rip the saree.
I unwrapped it like scripture.
My hands memorized every line.
My lips recited her skin like a psalm.
Her body was heaven, and I?
I prayed with my mouth.
Every kiss to her collarbone was a vow.
Every press of my hand over her heartbeat was a promise.
I didn't take her that night.
**I worshipped her.**
And when I finally pulled her to my chest, whispering her name like I'd forget how to live without it—
She kissed me like she finally understood…
That I would die *before* I ever hurt her.
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**The next morning, Aira woke up alone.**
A note on the pillow.
> *"Went hunting, amore.*
> *Someone dared fire a bullet at my queen.*
> *I'll be back with their head."*
> — *Your husband*
She smiled.
Then loaded her own gun.
Because if war was coming—
They'd face it **together.**
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### 💌 Author Note — From Aish L'Inarrestabile:
> *"He didn't touch her like a man. He touched her like a myth. And baby, next chapter? It's blood, betrayal, and obsession. Chapter 13: Family Clash — May the best woman survive."*
> — *Aish L'Inarrestabile*
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