A notification popped up on his screen. It was an email from Shauna to her team. She’d been keeping him in the loop. He read it once, then again. Her words were precise. Efficient. A list of minor edits. A suggestion about a host pairing. Two formats she believed they should greenlight and one she thought they should shelve.
While she hadn’t stepped into the building for more than two weeks, she hadn’t stopped working either. She was present in every decision that mattered. It showed him she was committed to the business, yet not wholly convinced to return and work for him. With him. But the fact that she had continued working gave him hope.
Unbidden, his mind drifted back to the moment he’d nearly kissed her here in his office. One moment they’d been arguing; the next, he’d been standing far too close. Close enough to notice the steady rise and fall of her chest. Close enough that her lips were barely a breath away from his. Raw temptation had surged through him, and he’d wanted nothing more than to close the distance and claim her mouth.
But he hadn’t. Thank God. He’d walked away at the last moment. He heaved out a breath. When it came to her, he really needed to have better control. He hated that he was still drawn to her. Hated how his body responded to her presence alone, how desire clawed at him the moment she entered his orbit. And worst of all, he hated that he wanted a woman who clearly didn’t like him. He ought to have learned his lesson long ago, but no, he kept getting ensnared by her beauty, her sharp mind, and that hot-as-hell body. He clucked his tongue. No, this wouldn’t do at all.
Muting the television, he went back to sorting through his emails. A flicker of red on the TV screen caught his eye. He glanced up absently and froze.
The ticker at the bottom of the screen had shifted to a breaking-news format. Social media mentions were flashing in rapid succession. The anchor’s expression had tightened almost imperceptibly. Unmuting the television, he rewound the footage to a few minutes earlier. His eyes widened as the panelist’s words played again. Did he just… Had he just…
Akash shot to his feet. Had the panelist just accused a cabinet minister of illegal political funding on live television? On the newsroom floor below, he could see panic rising. His cell phone began to ring, followed by the phone on his desk. Fucking hell. This wasn’t good.
He answered his cellphone. It was Chitra Gopalan, the head of his news team, calling.
“Tell me he didn’t just say what I think he said,” Akash stated without preamble.
“He’s saying he’s seen the documents. Our legal team is already calling. Social media’s exploding.”
Akash exhaled sharply, his eyes still fixed on the show running live below. “Has the minister’s office reached out?”
“Not yet. But they will.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Keep the show running. Don’t cut the feed. I’m coming down.”
And as he stepped toward the door, one thought cut through the noise. Shauna had approved this guest. Had she deliberately done this to sabotage him? Had she known this was going to happen?
He hurried down to the newsroom. The confident atmosphere from minutes earlier was gone, replaced by pandemonium. Producers were half-standing at their desks, headsets pressed tightly to their ears, while someone wasalready typing furiously at a terminal. On the main studio screen, the debate continued, but the anchor’s smile had thinned.
Chitra fell into step beside him. “The minister’s office just called. They’re asking for an immediate retraction. Else they will sue us.”
Fuck. This was exactly the kind of chaos he did not need right now. Not when he had just taken over and everyone’s eyes were on him.
“Social engagement just doubled,” someone muttered behind them.
Of course it did. Scandal drove numbers.
“Advertisers?” Akash asked.
“Two have put campaigns on hold,” Chitra replied quietly.
“Keep rolling,” he instructed her. “Tell the team not to panic. We have twenty more minutes, including the advertising slots. Ask the anchor to pivot. To challenge Mr. Shetty. Ask him for proof.”
Within seconds, the instruction was relayed. On screen, the anchor leaned forward. Her tone sharpened. The panelist stumbled. The debate continued. Numbers on the analytics dashboard surged again. The panelist refused to verify his claims with hard evidence, insisting that he had seen the proof himself and that was enough. Akash focused on the anchor. She was doing a brilliant job of turning the situation to GVN’s advantage.
“Thank you, Mr. Shetty, for being on our show. It has been very interesting. However, I’d like to reiterate that GVN does not endorse unverified claims,” the anchor stated confidently in the end. “We only back evidence, which unfortunately hasn’t been provided.”
With that final line, the show wrapped up. Everyone looked relieved when it ended. Akash checked the monitors overhead. The analytics screens showed record engagement.Social sentiment had once again shifted in their favor. The two advertisers who had paused placements were reinstating their campaigns. They had narrowly avoided a catastrophe of epic proportions.
Akash allowed himself a slow breath. He turned toward Chitra, about to speak, when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, and the relief drained from her face.
“It’s the minister’s legal team,” she mouthed as she answered the phone.
Akash’s jaw tightened. The call barely lasted a minute.
“The minister is threatening to sue,” she said. “They’re claiming we provided a platform for defamatory statements and failed to compel a retraction.”
Akash stood very still. The newsroom around him fell silent at her words.
