Aisha barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Raj standing inches from her, voice low and commanding, telling her she didn't understand what she was in the middle of. Telling her he wanted more. Telling her he wasn't going to let her walk away.
She told herself she should be angry.
She told herself she should stay away.
But her heart betrayed her every time she remembered the look in his eyes—
not just possessive,
not just dangerous,
but something frighteningly close to hunger.
The kind of hunger that didn't stop once it tasted something.
---
The office was suffocating the next morning.
People whispered as she passed, their eyes darting away too quickly. The air was thick with rumours she couldn't hear but felt crawling against her skin.
By 10 AM, she knew she couldn't avoid him forever.
His office door was half-open.
He was inside.
And he was in a mood.
A very bad one.
His voice echoed out—the kind of clipped, icy tone that made everyone in the building walk like they were carrying explosives.
"I don't care what excuse they gave," Raj snapped into the phone.
"They either deliver by 5 PM or the contract is off."
A pause.
"No. I don't renegotiate. I replace."
He ended the call with a sharp tap and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.
Aisha exhaled softly, trying to calm her nerves before stepping inside.
She knocked once.
His head turned immediately.
In one second, the fury on his face collapsed into something else. Something controlled, calculating—something dangerous in a different way.
"Come in," he said.
She entered slowly. "Sir, the finance reports from—"
"Aisha."
Her breath stilled.
"Close the door."
She hesitated.
He lifted a brow, silently daring her to refuse.
She closed it.
The click echoed like a warning.
Raj leaned back in his chair, studying her as though she were the only thing in the room worth noticing.
"I see you're avoiding looking at me today," he murmured.
"I'm not—" she began.
"You are."
He stood, walking toward her with that slow, unmistakable confidence of a man who knew he had power, and knew how to use it.
She backed up instinctively.
He didn't like that.
His gaze sharpened.
"I told you yesterday," he said quietly,
"this isn't over."
Her back brushed the door.
Raj stopped in front of her, not touching her but close enough that she felt his warmth.
"You're thinking too much," he said softly.
"I have reason to," she whispered.
Something flickered in his eyes.
"About me?"
She didn't answer.
Her silence was enough.
His jaw clenched, but not in anger—in restraint.
"Aisha," he said slowly, "I need you to understand something very clearly."
She swallowed. "What?"
He lowered his voice to a whisper.
"I don't get… affected by people."
A pulse jumped in his throat.
"But you?"
He took one step closer.
"You affect me."
Her breath caught.
He leaned in, not touching her, but close enough that her body reacted before her mind could intervene.
"You walk into a room and I lose my focus."
He brushed a strand of hair off her shoulder, his fingers lingering near her skin.
"You speak and the rest of the world falls silent."
Her heart raced painfully.
"I hate it," he said softly.
"But I can't stop it."
"Raj…" she whispered before she could stop herself.
His eyes darkened like she had set something inside him ablaze.
"Aisha," he breathed, "you have no idea what that name does to me."
She felt lightheaded.
This was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
She steadied herself. "Mr. Malhotra, this… attachment… it isn't appropriate. We work together."
His expression hardened instantly.
"A challenge," he murmured.
"Not a deterrent."
"I don't want complications," she said.
He exhaled a sharp, humourless breath.
"You are the most complicated thing in my life right now," he said,
"and I still want you."
Her heart nearly stopped.
Before she could think, he lifted one hand—slowly, giving her a chance to pull away—and brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek.
She didn't pull away.
That was her mistake.
His breathing changed.
His fingers curled, gently but possessively, under her jaw.
"Aisha," he whispered,
"don't make me pretend I don't want you."
She froze.
He froze.
Both trapped in a moment neither knew how to break.
A knock shattered the tension.
Raj's hand dropped instantly. His entire expression snapped back to the emotionless, ruthless CEO mask.
"Come in," he said, voice cold.
A junior manager entered, trembling. "S-sir, the board meeting—"
"I'll be there in five."
The manager fled.
Silence returned.
Raj looked at Aisha.
Not with anger.
Not with restraint.
But with a dangerous promise.
"This conversation isn't finished," he said softly.
"I won't let it be."
He walked toward the door, then paused with his hand on the handle.
Without turning, he added,
"And Aisha… next time you say my name like that—"
His voice dropped to a growl.
"—I won't stop myself."
He left.
And Aisha stood there, breathless, shaken, and unbearably aware—
that she was falling into something
she wouldn't be able to climb out of.