For the rest of the day, Aisha felt his presence everywhere.
Every time she looked up from her desk, her eyes were drawn—against her will—to the corner office where the blinds were half-open. Through the sliver, she could see him pacing, speaking sharply into the phone, running a hand through his hair with barely contained fury.
Raj Malhotra was a storm wrapped in a suit.
And she… was standing too close.
Her phone buzzed at 4:17 PM.
"Come to my cabin. Now." — RM
Her heart jumped.
She took a slow breath, gathering her courage, smoothing her blouse, and walked toward his office. The hall was quiet, employees desperately avoiding any reason to attract the CEO's attention.
Aisha knocked once.
"Enter."
The door closed behind her with a soft click, sealing the world out.
Raj stood near the glass wall overlooking the city, hands in his pockets, back straight, shoulders tense. He didn't turn toward her immediately.
Lightning flickered outside—faint, distant—but it outlined his silhouette like a dangerous painting.
Finally, he spoke.
"You handled the morning task well."
She blinked in surprise. "Thank you, sir."
He still didn't look at her.
"I don't give praise lightly," he added, voice low.
"I hope you understand that."
"I do," she whispered.
Silence.
Then he turned.
His eyes dragged over her slowly, deliberately, assessing every detail of her expression.
"Aisha," he said quietly, "do you know why I chose you?"
She swallowed. "Because you needed someone competent, and I—"
"No."
His voice cut cleanly through hers.
"That is not the reason."
Her breath froze.
Raj walked toward her with measured, predatory calm. Every step made something inside her tighten.
He stopped close—too close—his shadow falling over her.
"I chose you," he said, his voice dropping even lower,
"because you don't fear my temper the way others do."
"I— I do fear you," she said honestly, breath shaky.
He lifted a brow. "Do you?"
She hated the way her heartbeat betrayed her.
"Yes," she whispered.
He leaned in slightly, not touching her, but close enough that the warmth of his breath brushed her cheek.
"Fear isn't always bad," he murmured.
"It means you understand the power I hold."
Her pulse stumbled.
"And yet," he continued, eyes locked onto hers,
"you still stand your ground. You still talk back. You still look me in the eye."
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
"And I find that… unacceptable."
Aisha's brows knit. "Unacceptable?"
Raj straightened slightly.
"Because it makes me want more."
Her breath hitched.
Her fingers curled around her notepad.
"Sir… I only want to do my job well."
He studied her face, searching for something.
"And what if I want you to do more than your job?"
Her eyes widened.
"Mr. Malhotra—"
He held up a hand.
"I haven't finished."
His tone dropped, colder, darker.
"Today I asked you for thirty minutes. Tomorrow I might ask for more. I might ask for your time. Your attention."
His gaze sharpened.
"Your obedience."
Aisha stepped back at that.
But Raj moved instantly, placing a hand on the glass table behind her—blocking her exit without touching her.
"Aisha," he said, voice like silk over steel,
"I don't intend to pretend anymore."
Lightning flashed again, illuminating the tension between them.
"I notice everything about you," he continued.
"How you bite your lip when you're nervous. How your voice trembles when you lie. How you avoid looking at me after I lose my temper."
She tried to speak. "Raj—"
He rarely allowed his first name in her mouth.
Hearing it now sent something primal flickering behind his eyes.
"Aisha," he murmured, voice dangerously soft,
"don't use my name unless you want a reaction."
Her heartbeat thundered.
He watched her like a man starved.
"I'm trying not to cross a line," he admitted, surprising her.
"But you are making it very… difficult."
Her back pressed against the edge of the table.
She whispered, "Why are you telling me this?"
He stepped even closer, invading her space completely.
"Because you deserve to know exactly what is happening."
His hand lifted, fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"When I lose my temper, the world fears me," he said.
"But you…"
His thumb grazed her cheekbone.
"You calm me. Even when you're scared."
Aisha struggled to breathe.
"Mr. Malhotra," she whispered, "this isn't right."
His eyes darkened, jaw tightening.
"It stopped being about right or wrong the moment you walked into my office on your first day."
Her pulse fluttered.
Then—
Unexpectedly—
He stepped back.
Not much. Just enough to give her a breath of space.
He exhaled sharply, as if restraining himself with visible effort.
"You can go," he said finally.
"But Aisha—"
She looked up.
"This is not over," Raj murmured.
Her stomach tightened.
"You're already in the middle of something you don't understand," he added.
"And I don't plan to let you walk away."
Aisha rushed out before her legs gave out.
Behind her, Raj ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face.
He had almost broken today.
Almost touched her.
Almost crossed every line he swore to keep.
He stared through the glass wall at her retreating figure.
His voice was a whisper.
A warning.
A promise.
"You're mine, Aisha. Even if you don't see it yet."