That night, Aisha struggled to sleep.
Her mind replayed every detail from the day—the intensity of Raj's gaze, the rare vulnerability he had revealed, the way his voice had softened just enough to make her stomach twist. She told herself she was imagining things, but her body remembered every brush of proximity, every word that had seemed like both a command and a confession.
The next morning, her phone buzzed before the alarm even rang:
"Meet me at the boardroom. Now. —RM"
Her pulse raced. The boardroom was empty when she arrived, save for Raj, who was already standing with his arms crossed, a cold, calculating expression on his face. The early morning light caught his silhouette, sharp and dangerous, and the room seemed smaller the moment she stepped inside.
"Sit," he said without looking at her.
She obeyed, heart pounding.
"Today," he began, sliding a folder across the table toward her, "is not just about reports or summaries. This is… personal."
Aisha frowned. "Personal?"
Raj finally looked at her. His eyes were storm-dark, intense, unreadable.
"People often fail me because they don't understand the rules," he said softly. "But you… you might be the exception. Or the next mistake. Today, I want to see which."
Her hands shook slightly as she opened the folder. Inside were confidential files about a major corporate acquisition—contracts, projections, risk analyses, even sensitive correspondence between rival companies.
"You will study this," he said, voice dropping, "and then simulate a negotiation with me. I will play the other party. You must protect the interests of the company… and mine."
Aisha blinked. "You want me to roleplay a negotiation?"
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his tone lethal yet intimate.
"Yes," he said. "Because it's not just about numbers. It's about how far you're willing to go. How much you can endure… without losing yourself."
She felt a shiver run down her spine.
"And if you fail?" she asked quietly.
Raj's lips curved into a shadow of a smile.
"Failure," he said softly, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed her ear, "is not an option I allow. And you will feel it if it happens."
Aisha's pulse raced. Her hands gripped the folder tighter.
The next hour was a blur.
She presented arguments, countered objections, defended her position fiercely, and at every step, Raj pushed harder—challenging her, questioning her, breaking her down just enough to see if she would break completely.
She felt herself wobble under his relentless scrutiny, yet she fought back, determined not to falter.
Finally, she finished, nearly out of breath.
Raj leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought she had failed.
Then, slowly, he stood and circled the desk, his gaze locked on her like a predator sizing up its prey.
"You survived," he said softly, almost a whisper, but every word reverberated in the silent room.
Aisha's chest heaved. "I… I did my best."
He stopped behind her chair, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him.
"Your best," he murmured, "is… impressive. But understand this, Aisha: impressing me is dangerous."
Her heart skipped. "Dangerous?"
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low growl.
"Yes," he said. "Because it draws me in. And once I'm drawn in… I do not let go."
Her breath hitched.
Raj stepped back suddenly, regaining his usual rigid composure.
"You may leave," he said sharply. "But know this—"
He turned toward the window, hands clasped behind him.
"Every moment you spend on my floor, every glance, every action… it matters to me. And I am not a man who forgives mistakes lightly."
Aisha's legs nearly gave out. Her mind screamed at her to run, to escape, to put distance between herself and this storm of a man.
But part of her… part of her already wanted to stay.
Because in Raj Malhotra's world, the danger wasn't just in his temper or his obsession—it was in the magnetic pull of him, the way he consumed everything he touched, and the way he had already made her feel… undeniably, irrevocably, alive.