Aryan had begun planning the night three days before she ever stepped off the private jet.

While Priya was still in Delhi, moving through the final rituals of an arranged marriage she had not chosen, he had sat alone in the quiet of the Knightsbridge study after midnight and made a series of precise, private decisions. The first hurried consummation after her arrival would be inevitable—he had known that from the moment the families sealed the match. Duty, proximity, and the simple fact of her soft, responsive body in his house would see to it. But he had no intention of letting that first claiming stand as the only version of their wedding night.