Aisha didn't return to her cubicle.
She couldn't. Her legs were trembling too much, her pulse hammering against her throat like it wanted to escape her body. The echoes of Raj Malhotra's voice—low, cruel, deliciously dangerous—still vibrated inside her chest.
You want limits? I'll teach you mine later.
She pressed a palm to her heated face.
She didn't understand him.
She didn't understand herself.
Every time he lost his temper, she felt something she absolutely shouldn't feel.
Not fear.
Not submission.
But a pull.
A gravitational force that made her move toward him even when every sensible bone in her body screamed run.
"Aisha."
She flinched.
It wasn't Raj. Thankfully.
It was Meera, her colleague, holding a file. "Are you okay? You disappeared."
Aisha forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just… paperwork."
Meera lowered her voice. "Is Mr. Malhotra giving you trouble? I mean—he's usually cold, but with you he's… intense."
Intense.
That was one word for it.
Obsession was another.
"No, he's not giving me trouble," Aisha lied. "Just… demanding."
Meera looked unconvinced but nodded. "He wants these signed by lunch. Said to give them only to you."
Only to her.
Of course.
Aisha took the file, her heartbeat spiking. "Thanks."
Meera left. And Aisha exhaled slowly.
She opened the file—
and her stomach dropped.
It wasn't paperwork.
It was a calendar.
A weekly calendar.
With meetings, events, and appointments…
…all empty.
Except for one.
FRIDAY – 11 PM
Location: PRIVATE.
Attendees: Raj Malhotra, Aisha Khanna.
Her blood froze.
Eleven p.m.?
Private?
Why?
Why at night?
Why alone?
She swallowed hard and flipped the page.
A note slipped out.
His handwriting.
Sharp. Precise. Dangerous.
You asked for limits.
I'll show you mine first.
Clear your schedule.
—R
Aisha's heart thundered.
What limits?
What did he think she was asking for?
She wasn't—
"Khanna."
Aisha spun around.
Her throat dried instantly.
Raj stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other loosening his tie as if the very sight of her irritated him. Or tempted him. Or both.
He didn't bother hiding the way his eyes swept over her.
Slowly.
Possessively.
Like she was already something he owned.
"Did you get the file?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Good." His gaze dropped to her lips, making her shiver. "Then you know what to expect."
She forced her voice not to tremble. "Sir… that meeting—11 p.m.—is it necessary?"
His jaw ticked. "Do you think I put unnecessary things on my schedule?"
"No, I just meant—why so late?"
He stepped closer.
Too close.
So close that she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes.
"Because," he murmured, tone silk over steel, "some conversations cannot happen in daylight."
Her breath hitched.
He leaned just a little closer, his cologne—dark amber and something intoxicating—curling around her senses.
"And some lessons," he added softly, "require privacy."
Her knees weakened.
"What… lesson?" she whispered.
His lips curved—not a smile, but something far more dangerous.
"You'll find out."
She gulped.
"But until then," he continued, voice dropping further, "you will not avoid me."
Her eyes widened. "I wasn't avoiding you."
"You were," he corrected calmly. "And you know what happens when you lie to me."
Her pulse jumped. "I wasn't lying."
"Really?" He raised a brow. "Then why did you run out of my office after speaking about limits?"
Heat flooded her cheeks. "I didn't— I just—"
"You fled," he said simply.
She shut her mouth.
He wasn't wrong.
"And I don't appreciate running," he said. "From anyone. Especially not from you."
She clenched her fists. "I wasn't running from you."
"You were running from yourself," he said quietly. "From what you feel."
Her stomach dropped. "I don't—"
He gave a soft, humorless laugh. "Aisha, don't insult both of us."
She froze.
His hand lifted slowly—
and she panicked, thinking he might touch her cheek, her neck, her jaw—
But instead, he flicked a tear from her lashes she didn't even realize had formed.
Her breath left her body.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
A deadly whisper.
"You think I don't see you tremble every time I step near you?"
She said nothing.
"You think I don't notice how fast your pulse gets when I look at you?"
Silence.
"Aisha," he whispered, fingers brushing her wrist—light, teasing, electrifying. "You can lie with your words. Not your body."
She couldn't breathe.
Not when his thumb traced her pulse.
Not when his eyes darkened.
Not when his voice dropped lower.
"You want to know my limits?" he asked. "Here's the first one—"
His hand closed around her wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make her gasp.
"I don't tolerate fear from the people I choose."
Her pulse fluttered in his grip.
"And I've chosen you."
Her world tilted.
"S-Sir—"
"Friday. Eleven." He released her slowly, deliberately. "If you don't show up…"
Her heart twisted.
He leaned in—just an inch, just enough for her lips to feel the warmth of his breath.
"…I'll come find you myself."
Aisha's breath stuttered.
"And trust me," he murmured, eyes burning into hers, "you don't want that."
He stepped away, adjusting his cufflinks like he hadn't just unraveled her world.
"Get to work," he said, voice back to its cold, ruthless CEO tone. "Before I change my mind and start the lesson now."
And he walked away.
Leaving behind only the heat of his touch…
and a countdown to Friday night.