“We just had one.” She frowns.
“A follow-up.”
“For what?”
I pretend to think deeply. “Your sudden beauty today has affected productivity.”
She freezes mid-paper stack. Then very slowly looks up. “You are unbelievable.”
“You’re matching your hair color, sunshine.” I smirk.
“I am angry.”
“You blush angrily. Fascinating.” She stands abruptly, gathering everything.
“I’m leaving.”
“Walking away from unresolved workplace chemistry?” She heads for the door faster.
“Ishika.” I call out. She pauses without turning.
“Yes?”
I soften my voice. “You really do look nice today, sunshine.”
Silence. Then she mutters, almost too low to hear—“You’re impossible.” But she’s smiling. I know because I hear it. She opens the door. Then stops again. Still facing away, she says, “The green tie looks good on you.” And walks out before I can respond. I sit there stunned for a full second. Then grin like an idiot.
CHAPTER 31
ISHIKA
It is late enough that the building sounds tired, if that’s possible. Daytime offices are full of movement—phones ringing, printers coughing, footsteps crossing corridors, men arguing over who will carry what upstairs. Night offices breathe slower. The lights feel softer. The air-conditioner is louder. Every empty hallway feels like it is keeping secrets.
I am in my temporary cabin, barefoot under the desk, reviewing lighting invoices with a level of resentment only spreadsheets can inspire.
My hair is tied up badly. My kajal has faded. I have eaten chips for dinner. So naturally, this is when Aryan walks in. No knock. No warning. Just the door opening and chaos entering in a charcoal suit.
I look up and blink once. He is dressed like money. He usually is, but right now he might as well have stepped out of vogue magazine. Crisp white shirt, jacket fitted perfectly, expensive watch, hair styled instead of his usual careless mess by this time. Even the shoes look richer than me. He smells faintly of something warm and expensive and deeply inconvenient.
He also looks annoyingly handsome. Which irritates me on principle. “I need a favor,” he says.
“No.” I go back to my laptop, I cannot entertain him, especially if he looks like this. An epitome of hotness.
He sighs dramatically and shuts the screen halfway. “I haven’t even asked yet.” He pouts and I almost melt. I hate the effect this man has on me, I want to strangle him for that.
“I saved us both time.” I scoff. He drags the chair opposite my desk and sits backwards on it, arms folded over the backrest like he is in a teenage movie instead of a corporate office.
“I need to attend a business event tonight,” he says. “And I need a plus one.” I stare. Then laugh once.
“No.”
“It would mean a lot to me.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard the details.”
“I don’t need details. The answer is no in multiple fonts.”
