The office was unusually quiet that afternoon. Even the hum of computers and printers seemed muted, as if the building itself was holding its breath.
Aisha clutched the folder in her hands, palms sweating. She had barely started reviewing the reports when her phone buzzed again:
"My cabin. Now. —RM"
Her heart skipped. Every step toward his office felt heavier, her mind racing with possibilities—none of them good.
She knocked once, hesitated, then entered.
Raj was already standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows, city lights reflecting in the dark glass behind him. He didn't look at her at first. The faint outline of his jaw, tense and defined, suggested he'd been pacing.
When he finally turned, his eyes were unreadable. Aisha felt an almost physical pull, as if the air between them had condensed into something solid.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk.
Aisha obeyed, folding her hands in her lap, trying to calm the storm inside her.
"This," Raj began, sliding a new folder across the desk toward her, "isn't just any report."
She picked it up cautiously. The folder contained a confidential investor proposal, one she knew could make or break the company's next big deal.
"You will review every detail, prepare a summary, and deliver a presentation for me in two hours," he said. His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent—an almost dangerous intensity.
Aisha's breath caught. Two hours. That was nearly impossible.
Raj leaned back in his chair, watching her carefully. "And no mistakes," he added softly.
She looked up at him. "Sir… this is a very tight timeline. I'll do my best, but—"
He interrupted her, standing suddenly. The chair scraped sharply against the floor.
"Your best is not enough," he said, stepping closer. Every movement radiated controlled power. "I expect perfection. And I expect your full attention."
Her pulse raced as he stopped just a foot from her chair.
"You understand what happens when I don't get what I want?" His eyes darkened, a storm she had only glimpsed before.
"Yes," she whispered, shivering.
"Good." He straightened, his expression unreadable again, and returned to his desk. But Aisha noticed a tension in his shoulders, a flicker in his eyes—like a shadow passing over a stormy sea.
Something inside her stirred, something that recognized the rare vulnerability he tried to hide.
As she left the office, she felt his gaze burn into her back, and the memory of the brief flash of restraint he'd shown made her skin prickle.
---
The two hours were a blur. Aisha barely breathed, barely moved, her focus absolute. Every number, every line, every potential risk factor had to be perfect.
Finally, she found herself standing at the edge of Raj's cabin, hands trembling slightly as she knocked.
"Enter," came the sharp reply.
She stepped in, folder in hand. Raj was leaning over the window ledge, staring out at the city, the dim lights casting a shadow across his face.
"Sit," he said, not turning toward her.
Aisha complied, placing the folder carefully on the desk.
"Present."
She took a deep breath and began summarizing, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. She could feel his gaze, silent and intense, watching every move, every word.
When she finished, she looked up to find him still staring at her. Not with anger. Not with approval. But with a strange, almost unreadable expression.
"You did well," he said softly.
Her chest lifted slightly. Relief. Satisfaction.
"Sit closer," he added suddenly, voice low.
Confused but obedient, Aisha moved a step nearer.
"Do you know why I put you on this task?" His tone was quieter now, almost intimate.
"To test me?" she whispered.
He didn't answer immediately. He simply leaned against the edge of his desk, eyes never leaving hers.
"Because I needed to see… how far you would go. How much you can handle. And if I could trust you," he admitted softly.
Aisha's stomach tightened. Rarely did Raj let someone see even a flicker of vulnerability. Yet here he was—telling her, showing her, without words, that she mattered in a way no one else did.
"You… trust me?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
He paused. Then nodded once, almost imperceptibly.
"Yes. But only because you've earned it. Prove it again tomorrow."
Before she could respond, he straightened, his usual mask sliding back into place.
"You may leave," he said, voice sharp and commanding.
Aisha stepped back, folder in hand, heart pounding. She realized, as she left the office, that the pull between them had grown stronger.
And that whatever this was—whatever dangerous, obsessive thing Raj Malhotra was—she was already caught in its current.