The low buzz of chatter filled the conference room, the clatter of pens and shifting chairs muffled by the thick glass walls.
Most of the women, seated in a loose semicircle, weren't even pretending to hide where their attention was.
Dhruv sat at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, amber eyes scanning a stack of notes in front of him. His calm, deep voice filled the space easily — controlled, clipped, the kind of voice that made people sit straighter.
Lisa leaned forward, chin propped in her palm, lips curved in a soft smile.
"So, Dhruv," she said, twirling her pen, "maybe something personalized for the gifts? Mugs with employee names, perhaps?"
Her tone dripped with eagerness — and something else. A few of the others exchanged knowing looks.
Poornima, meanwhile, kept her gaze firmly on her notepad. Her pen moved quickly, pretending focus. The faintest flush touched her cheeks whenever Dhruv spoke, but she didn't look up. Not once.
It wasn't nerves — she told herself that at least twice. Maybe three times.
Still, she couldn't shake the ghost of the previous night's dream — the glint of amber eyes, the warmth of breath too close to her skin.
She had to be imagining things.
Right?
"Poornima," Dhruv said suddenly.
Her pen stilled.
He hadn't meant to say her name like that — low, sharp, too aware of it. Something flickered across his face before he masked it again.
"Yes, sir?" she asked, finally glancing up. Her voice was steady, though her heart wasn't.
He leaned back in his chair, jaw tight. "You'll handle the minutes of this meeting. I want them on my desk by end of day."
There was no reason for the edge in his tone — none except the irritation twisting in his chest. She hadn't looked at him once. Not once since he walked in.
"Of course," Poornima replied, calm and polite, eyes dropping back to her notes.
Lisa shot her a quick, smug glance, as if she'd won something.
But Dhruv wasn't listening anymore.
He nodded curtly, closing the folder in front of him. "That's all for now. Let's finalize the gift options by tomorrow."
As chairs scraped and the group dispersed, his gaze flickered — just for a moment — to where Poornima still sat, collecting her notes. Her faint scent drifted across the table.
She still didn't look at him.
He clenched his jaw, standing abruptly.
Fine. Two could play that game.
The restroom smelled faintly of jasmine soap and lemon cleaner.
Poornima stood at the mirror, dabbing a bit of water on her neck to cool the flush that refused to leave since the meeting.
Lisa's reflection appeared beside hers, lips painted too red, eyes too knowing.
"You really got under his skin today," she said, smoothing her hair.
Poornima blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, come on." Lisa leaned against the counter, smirking. "Dhruv. You didn't even look at him once, and he looked like he wanted to bite someone's head off. Probably mine." She laughed lightly, but her gaze was sharp.
Poornima shook her head, gathering her notepad. "You're imagining things."
"Am I?" Lisa tilted her head. "Anyway, if you're busy, I can drop off the minutes for you. I'm heading to his cabin anyway."
Poornima hesitated — just long enough for Lisa to notice. She didn't want to see him. Not today. Not when she still felt the weight of his gaze in the elevator, still half-dreamt of those amber eyes.
"Fine," she said finally, handing over the folder. "But make sure he gets it directly."
Lisa's smile widened. "Of course."
Dhruv sat behind his desk, the city skyline stretching beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The late afternoon sun turned everything gold — his desk, his wristwatch, even the restless flicker in his eyes.
He'd been waiting.
And hating that he was waiting.
He told himself it was about work. About professionalism. About getting the damn minutes on time.
But his mind had wandered — uninvited — to the way Poornima's brow furrowed when she was focused, to the slight curve of her mouth when she was trying not to smile.
Was it just him?
Or did she feel it too — that pull, like gravity but worse?
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in," he said, his voice low, measured.
Lisa stepped inside, all perfume and confidence. "Here are the minutes, Dhruv."
His eyes flicked up — expecting someone else. When he realized it wasn't Poornima, the shift in his expression was unmistakable. The faint spark in his gaze dimmed, replaced by something clipped and cold.
"She asked me to pass them on," Lisa said quickly, placing the file on his desk. She lingered, waiting for a reaction.
Dhruv didn't bother hiding his irritation. "I told her to hand it in," he said, tone like a blade.
Lisa faltered, her smile tightening. "She was busy—"
He picked up the file, scanning the neat handwriting that he recognized instantly — her handwriting.
Lisa fidgeted, trying to fill the silence. "If you need anything else—"
"I don't," Dhruv said flatly, already turning back to his computer.
The dismissal was clear.
Lisa's perfume lingered after she left, cloying and unwelcome.
But Dhruv wasn't thinking about her.
He was thinking about a woman who couldn't meet his eyes — and the way that, somehow, hurt more than it should have.
Dhruv leaned against the counter, tie loosened, eyes fixed on the coffee dripping steadily into his cup. His mind still lingered on Poornima's absence earlier, though he refused to admit it — even to himself.
"Look who's slumming it with the commoners," came a familiar drawl.
Dhruv didn't look up. "Adi," he greeted evenly, though a small smile tugged at his mouth.
Aditya — tall, sharp-suited, and perpetually amused — poured himself coffee and perched on the edge of the counter. "What brings the mighty HR head to my corner of caffeine and chaos?"
Dhruv finally turned, folding his arms. "Quarterly expense reports. You were supposed to approve them three days ago."
Adi took a leisurely sip, then grinned. "Ah. That."
Dhruv raised an eyebrow. "Yes, that."
Adi's grin turned downright wicked. "You know, I thought I'd take a more… personal approach this quarter."
Dhruv's brows drew together. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," Adi said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "I was planning to ask Poornima from your team to drop by and discuss it. Been eyeing her for a while now." He winked. "Figured it's time to make my move."
For a moment, Dhruv said nothing. Just stared — the humor in his eyes fading like a cloud crossing the sun.
"Poornima," he repeated, tone flat.
"Hmm," Adi hummed, unbothered. "Pretty, smart, doesn't waste words. Not like the usual office gossipers. I like that. So I stalled the reports — gives me an excuse to call her up."
Dhruv's jaw tightened. His fingers curled around his cup, knuckles pale. "That's not professional."
Adi chuckled. "Relax, man. It's harmless. I'm not planning to elope with her — yet."
Dhruv's voice dropped, quiet but edged. "You'll approve the reports today. And you'll leave her out of your little games."
The laughter in Adi's eyes faltered for the first time. "Whoa. Easy, tiger. Didn't realize HR was running interference now. What's this? Office code of conduct or… personal interest?"
Dhruv looked away, forcing a steady breath. "She's my reportee. That's all."
Adi smirked. "Right. 'That's all.' You might want to tell your eyes that, though."
Dhruv glared at him, amber eyes flashing darker than usual. "I'm serious, Adi. Don't fool around in my department."
Adi raised both hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Fine, fine. Don't get your tie in a twist. But you know what they say — love finds a way. Maybe she's the one."
Dhruv's jaw flexed, and he turned sharply, leaving his coffee untouched on the counter.
"Approve the reports, Aditya," he said over his shoulder. "Before I send you a reminder in writing."
The door swung shut behind him, leaving Adi chuckling softly.
Out in the corridor, Dhruv walked faster than he needed to, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
Jealousy wasn't something he recognized easily — but now it burned, sharp and unfamiliar.
The thought of Adi smiling at Poornima, talking to her, wanting her—
He exhaled through his teeth, shaking it off.
He was losing his grip, and that was dangerous.
Very dangerous.