The next morning at the office felt nothing like a normal workday.

The usually calm corridors buzzed with urgency. Phones rang nonstop, employees hurried across the floor with files clutched tightly in their hands, and the glass cabins that normally carried quiet authority now echoed with tense conversations.

An urgent meeting had been called.

Not just any meeting.

A high-priority one.

And everyone knew it.

The conference team had already gathered the necessary documents, finance had sent revised numbers twice within the last thirty minutes, and the assistants outside the executive cabins looked like they were running a marathon without moving from their desks.

In the center of this organized chaos—

stood Meera.

Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she paced near the glass meeting room, a tablet clutched in one hand while the other rested against her folded arm.

But she wasn’t reading the numbers on the screen.

Her eyes kept drifting toward the main office door.

Again.

And again.

Because someone was missing.

Someone very important to this project.

Anu.

Meera’s lips tightened slightly.

Late.

Her gaze shifted toward the clock on the wall.

Five minutes past the meeting preparation time.

The senior staff had already started gathering inside the meeting room. Through the glass walls she could see Jhende flipping nervously through the documents while two department heads whispered about the sudden urgency of the project.

Yet the person responsible for compiling the core research—

was nowhere to be seen.

Meera exhaled slowly, tapping her finger against the tablet.

Perfect.

For the first time since yesterday’s humiliating cafeteria scene… a small smile appeared on her lips.

Because today—

the situation had turned in her favor.

Yesterday Anu had spoken boldly in front of half the office.

That ridiculous “horizon” speech still echoed in Meera’s mind.

The audacity of it.

The confidence.

And worse—

the way Arya had refused to deny anything afterward.

Her jaw tightened slightly at the memory.

But today…

today was different.

Today the entire leadership team was waiting for a presentation that relied heavily on Anu’s data compilation.

And Anu was late.

Very late.

Meera leaned slightly against the glass wall, watching the door with patient calculation.

This is exactly what I needed.

Her mind was already preparing the moment.

The meeting would begin.

The files would be incomplete.

And when Arya asked why—

she would simply point out the obvious.

Your brilliant research lead didn’t bother showing up.

The humiliation would be public.

Professional.

Impossible to argue against.

Meera straightened, smoothing the sleeve of her blazer.

Inside the meeting room Jhende glanced toward the door again.

“Meera madam… Anu abhi tak nahi aayi?”

Meera turned toward him calmly.

“No.”

She said the word with controlled indifference.

Jhende frowned slightly.

“Par project ki final report toh—”

“Missing hai, kyu ki vo toh Anu ke paas hai,” Meera finished smoothly.

Then she shrugged lightly.

“Maybe she thought deadlines optional hai.”

Her tone carried just enough edge to make the nearby employees glance at each other quietly.

But Meera didn’t care.

Her attention returned to the door.

Because she knew—

the moment Anu walked in late…

the stage would be set.

And today—

in front of everyone—

she would finally remind Anu exactly where she stood in this office.

The hallway remained busy.

The meeting room filled slowly.

The clock ticked closer to the starting time.

And Meera’s eyes remained fixed on the entrance—

waiting.

Not with impatience.

But with anticipation.

The corridor outside the meeting room continued buzzing with restless activity. Papers moved from desk to desk, assistants whispered instructions, and the glass walls of the conference room reflected the hurried movement of the staff preparing for the urgent discussion.

Inside the room, Jhende stood near the table, nervously flipping through a stack of files for what must have been the fifth time.

Something was missing.

And it was bothering him.

His eyes drifted toward the door again.

Still no sign of Anu.

He turned toward Meera, who stood near the screen with her tablet, looking far calmer than the situation demanded.

“Meera madam… apme Anu ko meeting ke baare mein inform kiya tha na?” Jhende asked, adjusting his glasses slightly.

Meera didn’t hesitate.

She nodded smoothly.

“Haan. Maine inform kiya tha.”

Her tone was casual, almost dismissive.

But the truth was slightly different.

She had not informed Anu about the urgent meeting at all.

All she had sent was a short message earlier in the morning—

“Come to the office early today.”

Nothing about the meeting.

Nothing about the presentation.

Nothing about the urgency.

And now that Anu was late…

the situation had shaped itself perfectly.

Meera’s gaze briefly shifted to the clock again.

Just a few more minutes…

Before she could say anything else—

the meeting room door opened.

The quiet conversations inside immediately softened.

Because Aryavardhan had walked in.

His presence carried its usual quiet authority. The room seemed to automatically adjust around him as he walked toward the head of the table.

His steps were calm, confident, the faint scent of sandalwood following him like a signature.

On the way toward the boss chair, his sharp gaze scanned the room quickly.

And stopped on Jhende.

The frown on Jhende’s face was impossible to miss.

Arya slowed slightly.

“Jhende,” he said calmly, pulling the chair back but not sitting yet.

“What's the matter? Tu itna pareshan kyu hai?”

Jhende exhaled slightly.

“Arya… vo Anu… ab tak aayi nahi.”

Arya’s expression didn’t change immediately, but his eyes flickered briefly toward the door.

Before he could respond—

Meera spoke.

Smooth.

Calculated.

“Maine toh inform kiya tha sir,” she said, her voice carrying a faint trace of sarcasm. “Magar aaj kal Anu ka dhyaan kahi aur hi hota hai… toh kaam ki baate use kaise yaad rahegi?”

The words hung in the air like a carefully placed dagger.

A few people around the table exchanged uncomfortable glances.

Jhende immediately turned toward her.

“Meera madam, aap—”

But before he could finish—

a slightly breathless voice came from the door.

“May I come in, sir?”

Every head in the room turned instantly.

At the entrance stood Anu.

She was slightly out of breath, strands of hair escaping from her neatly tied ponytail, a folder clutched tightly against her chest as if she had rushed all the way through the Moholla.

Her eyes immediately found Arya.

For a brief moment the chaos in the room faded from her awareness.

Then reality returned.

She straightened slightly at the doorway.

“May I come in, sir?” she repeated softly.

For a second, no one spoke.

Then Aryavardhan turned toward her.

His gaze settled on Anu—steady, unreadable.

The tension in the room thickened instantly.

Meera’s eyes sharpened.

Jhende held his breath.

Arya studied Anu for a brief moment… then nodded once.

“Come in.”

His voice was calm.

Controlled.

But something in his eyes shifted.

Anu stepped inside, clutching the folder against her chest as she walked toward the table. The room seemed far longer than usual as every pair of eyes followed her steps.

But Arya didn’t return to his seat.

Instead—

he walked toward her.

That alone made a few people exchange surprised glances.

They met halfway near the table.

For a moment neither spoke.

Anu lowered her gaze slightly, still catching her breath from rushing.

That was when Arya noticed it.

A loose strand of her hair had escaped from her ponytail, falling messily across her cheek.

Without thinking—

or perhaps without caring—

Arya lifted his hand.

And gently tucked the disheveled strand behind her ear.

The touch was slow.

Unhurried.

Intimate.

Anu gasped softly, completely caught off guard by the gesture.

Her eyes widened as warmth rushed to her cheeks.

Across the table—

Jhende closed his eyes immediately and muttered under his breath,

“Are yaar…”

His hand slid up to his forehead in quiet disbelief.

Not again. Not in the meeting room.

Around the table, a few employees shifted awkwardly, unsure whether they had just imagined what they saw.

But one person had definitely seen it.

Meera.

And her expression darkened instantly.

Shock flickered across her face first.

Then anger.

Her fingers tightened around the tablet she was holding.

The casual intimacy of that gesture—done openly, without hesitation—felt like a direct challenge.

As if Arya wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.

Meanwhile, Arya lowered his hand calmly.

His gaze remained on Anu for another second before he finally spoke.

“Late?”

Just one word.

Quiet.

But enough to make Anu instantly straighten.

“S… sorry sir… woh traffic—”

Arya’s eyes shifted to the folder in her hands before she could finish.

He simply took it from her.

The room held its breath again.

Jhende opened his eyes now, watching the scene nervously as Arya began flipping through the pages.

Anu stood there stiffly.

Her fingers clenched together anxiously.

Because she knew what was inside that folder.

The complete project analysis.

The research Meera thought was missing.

Arya scanned the pages quickly.

One sheet.

Two.

Three.

The silence in the room stretched longer with every second.

Anu watched his face carefully, searching for any sign of dissatisfaction.

Across the table, Jhende’s gaze moved between the two of them like he was watching a tennis match.

Meera stood absolutely still.

Her jaw tight.

Because if the file turned out incomplete—

this would be her moment.

Arya reached the final page.

He closed the folder.

For a second his expression remained unreadable.

Then he looked up.

“Perfect.”

The single word broke the tension like a sudden crack of thunder.

Anu released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Relief washed over her instantly.

Beside the table, Jhende’s lips curved into a small satisfied smile.

Of course it was perfect.

But Meera—

looked completely stunned.

Her eyes widened slightly.

Her gaze snapped between Arya… and the folder.

Perfect?

How?

She had been certain Anu wouldn’t even know about the meeting.

Yet somehow—

not only had she arrived—

she had brought the complete analysis.

The confidence Meera had carried all morning cracked visibly.

Arya handed the folder back to Anu.

Then turned toward the table.

“Let’s begin the meeting.”

His voice carried quiet finality.

Anu moved toward her seat beside him.

But as she passed—

Meera’s eyes followed her.

And the jealousy burning in them was impossible to miss.

The meeting began.

Chairs adjusted.

Files opened.

The projector hummed softly as numbers, charts, and projections filled the screen.

From the outside, the atmosphere looked exactly how a high-level corporate meeting should look—serious, disciplined, focused.

Faces around the table remained professional.

Pens moved across notebooks.

Occasional questions were raised.

Discussions followed.

But beneath that carefully maintained order—

something else simmered.

Because one person in the room was not fully focused.

Meera.

She sat upright with her tablet open before her, but her attention kept drifting.

Again.

And again.

Toward Anu.

Every time Anu spoke—

Meera’s gaze sharpened.

Whenever Anu suggested an idea—

Meera’s jaw tightened.

And when the senior managers around the table began nodding in agreement with her points—

Meera’s irritation grew harder to hide.

“Actually if we redirect the supply chain through the secondary vendors…” Anu said carefully, pointing to the document in front of her, “...then the delay in the London transition can be avoided.”

A finance executive nodded.

“That could work.”

Another manager leaned forward slightly.

“Yes, that’s actually a good alternative.”

Across the table Jhende glanced proudly toward Anu, clearly impressed.

But Meera felt something entirely different.

Confusion.

Sharp.

Persistent.

Because one question refused to leave her mind.

How?

She had not told Anu about the urgent meeting.

She had made sure of that.

Yet here Anu was—

not just present—

but completely prepared.

Her work was thorough.

Accurate.

Detailed.

Too detailed for someone who supposedly had no idea this meeting even existed.

Meera’s fingers tightened slightly around her stylus.

Someone helped her.

The realization came slowly.

But once it did—

her mind began searching.

Her eyes scanned the room quietly.

Jhende?

Unlikely.

The other executives?

Impossible.

Then her gaze shifted—

and landed on Aryavardhan.

He sat at the center of the table, listening calmly as the discussion continued.

His expression remained neutral.

Thoughtful.

But something about his posture made Meera pause.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Of course.

The thought came with a sharp huff of irritation.

It has to be him.

Who else would have ensured Anu walked into this meeting fully prepared?

Who else would go out of his way to protect her from humiliation?

Meera inhaled slowly, trying to calm the anger rising inside her.

She was about to look away—

when something unusual caught her attention.

Arya’s hands.

One of them rested casually on the table beside his file.

But the other—

was nowhere to be seen.

Meera’s gaze shifted subtly.

Down the table.

Toward Anu.

Anu sat beside him with her notebook open.

One of her hands rested on the table.

Holding her pen.

But the other—

was missing.

Under the table.

Meera’s eyes sharpened instantly.

Because Anu’s expression had changed.

It was subtle.

Barely noticeable to anyone else in the room.

But Meera saw it.

The faint tension in her shoulders.

The way her focus wavered for a split second.

The slight stiffness in the way she shifted in her chair.

As if—

she was struggling with something.

Then Meera noticed the glass panel behind Anu.

The polished surface reflected a faint, distorted image from beneath the table.

Her breath caught slightly.

Because the reflection revealed what no one else in the room had noticed.

Arya’s hand.

Wrapped firmly around Anu’s hand beneath the table.

Holding it.

Not loosely.

Not casually.

But with quiet insistence.

Anu’s fingers were trying to pull away.

Subtly.

Carefully.

But Arya’s grip remained steady.

Unmoving.

Above the table—

his expression remained perfectly composed.

Listening to the presentation.

Occasionally nodding.

As if he were completely focused on the meeting.

But beneath the table—

his hand still held hers.

And Anu was trying very hard to free herself without drawing attention.

Meera’s eyes darkened.

The realization burned through her like fire.

So that was it.

The reason for Anu’s confidence.

The reason for her preparation.

The reason Arya had looked so calm this morning.

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Because now—

the truth was impossible to ignore.

This wasn’t just professional support anymore.

Something far more dangerous was unfolding—

right in the middle of the meeting room.

The discussion around the table continued.

Numbers.

Strategies.

Deadlines.

Voices rose and fell in professional rhythm as different executives debated the next phase of the project.

On the surface, everything looked perfectly normal.

But beneath the polished table—

a completely different battle was unfolding.

Anu leaned slightly toward Arya, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Sir… kya kar rahe hai?” she murmured urgently.
“Please… haath chhodiye na.”

Her fingers tried again to slip out of his grasp.

But Arya didn’t even look at her.

His gaze remained calmly fixed on the presentation screen while one of the managers explained the budget allocations.

Then quietly—

he spoke back.

“Tum kya kar rahi ho?”

His voice was low, almost amused.

“Meeting chal rahi hai… aur tum ho ki tumhara dhyaan haath par hai?”

Anu’s mouth fell open in disbelief.

Unbelievable.

He was the one holding her hand hostage beneath the table—

and somehow he was blaming her.

She tried again to pull her hand free.

This time with a little more determination.

But Arya’s fingers tightened instantly.

Not painfully—

but firmly enough to stop her.

Then—

without the slightest visible movement above the table—

he pulled her hand slightly toward him.

Just enough that their chairs brushed a little closer.

Anu stiffened.

Her heart skipped wildly.

To anyone watching, Arya still looked like the calm CEO listening attentively to the meeting.

Except—

two people knew the truth.

Across the table, Jhende had noticed.

He glanced once beneath the table and then immediately looked away again, rubbing his temple with quiet suffering.

Hey bhagwan… ye meeting room hai ya lovers point…

And Meera.

Meera had noticed everything.

Her nails dug lightly into her palm as she watched the subtle movement between them.

The quiet closeness.

The stolen control.

Her eyes burned.

Meanwhile—

Arya leaned a fraction closer toward Anu.

His voice dropped even softer.

“Dekhiye, Miss Chandni Chowk…”

The nickname alone made Anu glance at him instantly.

His lips curved faintly.

“Ek toh aapki punishment abhi bhi pending hai.”

He paused deliberately.

Watching her reaction.

Anu’s breath caught.

Her heart began beating even faster.

Arya’s gaze finally turned toward her now.

Dark.

Calm.

Dangerously amused.

Then he continued.

“Secondly… you were late.”

At that exact moment someone across the table asked Arya a question about the financial restructuring.

Without missing a beat—

Arya looked up at the speaker.

Nodded thoughtfully.

“Hmm… continue.”

His attention appeared completely focused on the discussion.

Then—

without even looking at Anu—

he murmured softly again.

“…So punishment doubled.”

Anu felt her heart miss an entire beat.

Her fingers went still inside his grasp.

The air between them felt suddenly too warm.

Too charged.

Arya slowly turned his head toward her again.

“And moreover…” he said quietly.

“I helped you… right?”

His eyes locked onto hers now.

Direct.

Steady.

Anu swallowed nervously.

Those dark eyes were far too close.

Far too aware.

“I deserve a…”

His gaze flickered down.

For the briefest moment—

to her lips.

Then back to her eyes.

His voice dropped into a husky whisper.

“…A reward.”

Anu’s breath faltered completely.

Across the table—

Meera’s expression had turned dangerously cold.

And Jhende was staring very intensely at his notebook now—

as if the numbers on the page could save him from witnessing whatever was about to happen next.

Anu stared at him, completely stunned.

“What?”

The word slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Arya only responded by raising one eyebrow slightly, the corner of his lips twitching with quiet amusement.

The look itself was an answer.

Anu straightened instantly, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Never.”

She said it firmly, looking straight at him, her voice still a whisper but her resolve clear.

For a moment Arya simply looked at her.

Then he tilted his head slightly.

“You don’t have any option, MY LOVE”

The words rolled off his tongue far too easily.

His gaze briefly swept across the room—everyone still busy discussing numbers and projections—before he leaned a little closer to her again.

Just enough that only she could hear him.

“It’s a part of your punishment…” he murmured.

His breath brushed lightly against her ear.

“…and MY REWARD.”

Anu gulped.

Her fingers trembled slightly in his grip beneath the table.

“N–not here…” she whispered nervously.

Arya didn’t even blink.

“Here. Right now.”

The calm certainty in his voice made her look at him again.

Half shocked.

Half pleading.

“Scandal ho jayega…”

Her eyes flicked nervously around the table.

Anyone could notice.

Anyone could look down.

Arya leaned back in his chair slightly, his expression completely relaxed.

As if they were discussing nothing more than quarterly profits.

“I’ll handle the scandal.”

His tone was smooth.

Dangerously confident.

Then his gaze locked onto hers again.

Dark.

Unyielding.

“But you…” he murmured softly.

“…you have only one job.”

His fingers tightened slightly around her hand beneath the table.

“To handle my mood.”

Anu’s heart froze.

For a moment she couldn’t breathe.

Because the way he said it—

the quiet dominance in his voice—

left absolutely no doubt that he was serious.

Anu’s eyes flashed with stubborn refusal.

“No ways. I am not doing this.”

Her whisper carried a firmness that surprised even herself.

Arya didn’t react immediately.

His gaze remained steady on her face.

“You have to do this.”

His tone was quiet, controlled, but it carried that familiar authority that made her pulse jump every single time.

Anu shook her head slightly.

“You can’t force me.”

For a moment Arya simply looked at her.

Really looked.

Then slowly, one of his eyebrows lifted.

“Do you really feel like I am forcing you?”

The question was soft.

But it struck somewhere deep.

Anu faltered.

“S…sir… vo…”

Her words tangled helplessly.

Arya’s eyes softened slightly, but there was a flicker of something else too—uncertainty.

“Mujhe laga…” he said slowly.

“…you are enjoying it too.”

Anu’s breath caught.

“Sir… I…”

Before she could finish—

his hand suddenly loosened.

Then completely withdrew.

Her fingers slipped free from his grasp.

The warmth that had held them together beneath the table vanished instantly.

Arya leaned back in his chair and straightened, placing both his hands calmly on the table now.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry, Anu.”

His voice was composed.

Too composed.

His attention shifted back to the discussion happening across the table as if nothing had happened.

But inside—

a small flicker of guilt settled in his chest.

Maybe he had pushed too far.

Maybe he had mistaken her nervousness for consent.

The meeting resumed its rhythm.

Voices discussed strategy again.

Files shifted.

But Anu heard none of it.

Her eyes remained fixed on Arya.

The distance between them suddenly felt colder than before.

She could see it clearly now—the way his expression had become guarded again.

Professional.

Controlled.

And that quiet apology still echoed in her mind.

I’m sorry, Anu.

Her chest tightened.

Because that was the last thing she wanted.

She didn’t want him thinking she had rejected him.

Didn’t want him believing she had been uncomfortable with him.

Her gaze moved across the room briefly.

Everyone was focused on the presentation again.

Even Meera seemed busy scribbling notes now.

Anu inhaled slowly.

One deep breath.

Then another.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lowered her hand from the table.

Carefully.

Quietly.

Under the table—

her hand moved.

And rested lightly on Arya’s thigh.

Arya froze.

His eyes snapped toward her instantly.

The unexpected touch sent a jolt through him.

Anu didn’t look at him immediately.

Her heart was racing far too fast.

But before Arya could even understand what she was doing—

she turned slightly toward him.

Leaning just a little closer.

And pressed a quick, soft kiss against his cheek.

The moment was brief.

Barely a second.

But it carried everything she couldn’t say aloud.

Then she pulled back immediately, her face flushed, eyes lowered toward her notebook as if nothing had happened.

Arya remained completely still.

The warmth of that sudden kiss lingered against his cheek.

And for the first time since the meeting began—

a slow, stunned smile threatened to break through the calm mask of the powerful CEO.

For a moment after the kiss—

time stopped for Aryavardhan.

The discussion in the room continued.

Charts shifted on the screen.

Someone explained the logistics model.

Another executive debated the numbers.

Voices moved around the table in calm professional rhythm.

But none of it reached him.

Because the warmth of Anu’s lips still lingered on his cheek.

And the place where her hand had briefly rested on his thigh still burned like a quiet spark under his skin.

Arya slowly turned his head toward her.

Anu sat perfectly straight beside him now.

Eyes lowered.

Her pen moved steadily across the notebook as if she were deeply focused on the discussion.

Anyone looking at her would think she was the most attentive person in the room.

But the faint redness spreading across her cheeks betrayed everything.

Across the table—

Jhende had seen it.

His eyes widened behind his glasses.

He blinked once.

Then twice.

Then leaned back slowly in his chair, murmuring under his breath,

“Yeh toh… reverse attack ho gaya…”

He adjusted his glasses again, trying very hard to look at the presentation instead of the two people sitting beside each other like nothing had happened.

Meanwhile—

Meera had also seen it.

And this time—

she had seen everything.

Not just the aftermath.

Not just the closeness.

But the exact moment when Anu leaned forward.

The moment her lips touched Arya’s cheek.

The moment Arya froze.

Her fingers tightened around the stylus in her hand so hard that the plastic creaked slightly.

Her face remained calm.

Controlled.

Professional.

But her eyes—

burned.

Because that wasn’t accidental.

It wasn’t nervousness.

It was intentional.

And what made it worse—

Arya had not stopped her.

He had not pulled away.

He had not even reacted in a way that suggested surprise.

Back at the table—

Arya leaned slightly toward Anu.

Not enough to draw attention.

Just enough that his voice could reach only her.

“So…”

His tone carried quiet amusement now.

“…you’re enjoying it too.”

Anu kept her eyes on the notebook.

Her heartbeat pounded so loudly she was sure someone across the table would hear it.

“Bas…” she murmured softly.

“Punishment khatam.”

Arya let out a soft chuckle.

Low.

Warm.

Dangerous.

“Miss Chandni Chowk…”

He leaned a fraction closer, his shoulder almost brushing hers.

“That…”

His eyes flickered briefly toward her lips again.

“…was just the advance payment.”

Anu’s breath caught in her throat.

Her pen stopped moving for a split second.

And before she could respond—

Arya leaned back in his chair again.

The calm, authoritative CEO returned instantly.

His voice cut smoothly into the discussion.

“Let’s move to the final proposal.”

Executives around the table nodded and turned their attention back to the presentation.

But the faint smirk lingering on Arya’s lips made one thing very clear.

The punishment he had promised her earlier—

was far from over.

____

The meeting slowly approached its conclusion.

Final figures were confirmed.

Action points were assigned.

Files closed one by one as the executives around the table began gathering their documents.

Aryavardhan sat at the head of the table, calm and composed, listening to the last manager summarize the logistics timeline.

“Good,” he said finally.

“Proceed with phase preparation. Jhende, coordinate with the finance team.”

“Done, sir,” Jhende nodded, already collecting his papers.

Chairs began sliding back.

Laptops shut.

People stood, murmuring brief professional goodbyes as they moved toward the door.

Just as Anu began to close her notebook—

Arya’s voice stopped her.

“Anu.”

She looked up instantly.

“Yes, sir?”

Arya remained seated, flipping through the project file casually.

“Stay back for a minute,” he said calmly. “Ek final point discuss karna hai.”

Anu nodded quickly.

“Ji, sir.”

Across the table, Meera’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Her gaze moved from Arya…

to Anu.

But she said nothing.

Instead she gathered her tablet with controlled precision and walked out with the others.

Jhende lingered near the door for a second longer than necessary.

His eyes moved between Arya and Anu knowingly.

Then he muttered softly under his breath—

“Bhagwan sabko sadbuddhi de…”

—and quietly slipped out, closing the glass door behind him.

The meeting room fell silent.

Only the soft hum of the projector remained.

Anu waited near her chair, unsure if she should sit or remain standing.

Arya still seemed busy with the file.

A few seconds passed.

Then he finally looked up.

His gaze landed directly on her.

“Baitho.”

She hesitated for a moment before walking back to her seat beside him.

The chair beside Arya slid softly across the floor as she sat down.

She placed her notebook on the table again, trying to look composed despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

“So… kya discuss karna tha sir?”

Arya didn’t answer immediately.

Instead—

he leaned back slightly in his chair.

Watching her.

The silence stretched just long enough to make her heartbeat quicken.

Then suddenly—

his hand moved.

Before Anu could even react, Arya caught her wrist and pulled her toward him.

“Sir—!”

The small gasp barely left her lips before she found herself pulled sideways into his lap.

The chair creaked slightly under the sudden shift of weight.

Anu froze.

Completely stunned.

Her hands instinctively grabbed the edge of the table for balance while Arya’s arm wrapped firmly around her waist to steady her.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

The proximity was overwhelming.

She could feel the steady warmth of his chest behind her.

His arm resting securely around her waist.

His breath brushing lightly against her ear.

Anu’s heart began pounding uncontrollably.

“S…sir…!” she whispered in shock.

“Yeh… kya kar rahe hai aap?”

Arya’s low chuckle vibrated softly against her shoulder.

“Kyun?”

His voice dropped to a teasing murmur.

“Punishment ka next part shuru karne ke liye meeting room perfect nahi hai?”

Anu turned her head slightly, eyes wide.

“Sir… koi aa jayega…”

Arya didn’t look concerned in the slightest.

Instead his grip around her waist tightened just a little.

“Door locked hai.”

The calm certainty in his voice made her breath catch.

Then he leaned closer, his voice turning softer… deeper.

“Waise bhi…”

His lips brushed dangerously close to her ear as he murmured,

“Tumne advance payment de diya hai, Miss Chandni Chowk.”

A slow, amused smile touched his lips.

“Toh ab reward lene ka haq toh banta hai… nahi?”

The thick, insulated door of the conference room sealed the outside world away, leaving only a quiet, electric stillness inside.

The long glass table reflected the muted ceiling lights, but neither of them noticed it anymore.

All attention was centered on the executive chair.

Anu still sat in Arya’s lap, the suddenness of how she had ended up there making her heart beat wildly against her ribs. His hands rested securely at her waist, fingers firm yet steady, holding her there as if she belonged exactly in that place.

The distance they normally kept in the office had dissolved completely.

What remained was something far more dangerous.

Anu lowered her gaze, unable to hold his eyes for too long. Her lashes trembled faintly, shadows dancing over the pink warmth spreading across her cheeks. Being this close to him—the warmth of his chest behind her, the quiet rhythm of his breathing, the faint sandalwood scent surrounding her—made her feel dizzy.

Arya noticed the sudden shyness.

And a slow, amused curve appeared on his lips.

The timid version of her might hide.

But he remembered the woman who had leaned forward earlier and claimed her moment without hesitation.

His gaze lifted to the small silk bow clipped neatly at the back of her hair.

The final piece of her carefully maintained office composure.

Slowly—deliberately—his hand lifted.

His knuckles brushed the delicate skin behind her ear.

The contact was feather-light, yet it sent a visible shiver through her shoulders.

Her breath caught softly.

With a smooth flick of his fingers, the clip came loose.

Dark strands spilled downward instantly, sliding over his arms and shoulders in a soft wave.

The transformation was immediate.

Her carefully arranged appearance vanished.

What remained was something far more natural… far more captivating.

Anu’s breath broke in a soft gasp.

The sudden cascade of hair felt strangely intimate, and for a moment she couldn’t meet his eyes. A small, embarrassed smile flickered across her lips before instinctively she leaned forward, hiding her flushed face against the side of his neck.

Her forehead rested lightly against his collar.

Arya let out a low laugh under his breath.

The vibration of it traveled through her chest.

He allowed her that brief moment of hiding.

Then his fingers slid gently beneath her chin.

Tilting her face upward again.

Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his.

And the playful calm that usually filled his gaze had changed.

Something deeper burned there now.

The quiet room seemed to pulse with their breathing.

Arya leaned closer.

Their noses brushed lightly.

The space between them grew impossibly small.

But instead of claiming her lips, his attention drifted along the curve of her jaw.

His mouth traced slowly downward until it reached the sensitive hollow near her neck.

Anu’s head tipped back slightly against his arm, eyes falling shut as a quiet sound escaped her before she could stop it.

The contact sent warmth rushing through her.

His grip at her waist tightened just enough to pull her closer.

Closer than before.

For a long moment he lingered there, the steady beat of her pulse fluttering beneath his lips.

Her fingers instinctively slid upward, curling lightly into the hair at the back of his neck as if anchoring herself.

The room filled with soft breaths and the rustle of shifting fabric.

Nothing else existed.

When Arya finally drew back, his breathing had deepened.

His gaze lingered where his lips had been moments earlier.

A faint mark had begun to appear against her skin, a warm flush blooming where the contact had been.

His eyes lifted back to her face slowly.

And the quiet intensity in them made Anu’s heartbeat stumble all over again.

The narrow lane of the moholla buzzed with the familiar rhythm of evening life—pressure cookers whistling from neighboring kitchens, children shouting as they played cricket under the dim streetlight, and the faint melody of a radio playing somewhere nearby.

Inside the small house, warmth wrapped itself around everything. The scent of cumin, onions, and slow-cooked rajma filled the air, blending with the earthy comfort that only a lived-in home could carry.

When Anu stepped across the doorway, slipping off her sandals near the wall, the polished corridors of the office and the silent intensity of the meeting room felt like another universe entirely.

Yet the warmth at the side of her neck—sharp, pulsing—refused to let that world fade.

Gopal looked up from the old wooden chair in the corner where he had been resting, his face brightening immediately.

“Are Anu tu aa gaiee? Lekin itni der kaise ho gaiee?”

The simple question made her chest tighten.

Her fingers instinctively lifted to adjust the dupatta wrapped carefully around her throat. She had wound it far more tightly than usual, the soft fabric acting like a fragile shield.

“Vo… vo aapko bataya tha na Papa,” she replied, forcing her voice to sound normal. “Aaj ek urgent meeting aa gaiee thi… ussi ka kaam khatam karte karte time ho gaya.”

Before Gopal could respond, Pushpa ji stepped out from the small cooking space, wiping her hands against the edge of her saree. A gentle cloud of steam followed her.

“Chal koi baat nahi,” she said warmly. “Tu mu haath dho le. Mai khana lagati hu… maine tere manpasand rajma chawal banaye hai.”

Under normal circumstances, Anu’s face would have lit up.

Today she only managed a small, slightly strained smile before moving toward the tiny attached bathroom.

But in a house this small, nothing escaped attention.

Pushpa’s eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed the way Anu’s dupatta was wrapped unusually high around her neck.

“Are Anu…” she called out, puzzled. “Aaj ye dupatta aise kyu bandha hai? Gala pura dhaka hua hai tera. Itni garmi mein?”

Anu froze mid-step.

Her heartbeat jumped wildly.

Under the silk fabric, the mark still burned faintly against her skin—an undeniable reminder of Arya.

“Vo… Mummy… vo…” she stammered quickly, forcing a casual tone. “Sara din AC mein thi na… matlab meeting room mein teen-teen AC rehte na. Thand lag rahi thi.”

Gopal shook his head, concern creasing his forehead.

“Are aise se toh tabiyat kharab ho jayegi. Bahar kitni garmi hai iss waqt aur ek dam AC se niklo toh loo lagne ke chances hai.”

Pushpa turned toward him instantly, hands planting on her hips.

“Are kyaa aap bhi shubh shubh boliye! Ab loo ke dar se kaam na kare vo? Meeting toh meeting hoti hai.”

Their familiar bickering began, light and harmless.

For a moment the attention shifted away from her.

Anu used the opportunity instantly.

Without waiting for another question, she slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

The latch clicked softly.

And the moment she was alone—

her shoulders sagged.

She leaned back against the cool wall, breathing unevenly.

Her fingers slowly loosened the tight knot of her dupatta.

The silk slipped down from her neck.

Her eyes lifted toward the small cracked mirror hanging above the sink.

And her breath caught.

The mark stood out vividly against her skin—a deep crimson bloom just above her collarbone.

Unmistakable.

Her fingertips moved toward it almost hesitantly.

The lightest touch sent a strange warmth spreading through her again.

A memory flashed instantly—his breath near her neck, the steady hold of his hands, the quiet intensity in his eyes.

A soft, involuntary sound escaped her lips before she quickly pressed them together.

Outside the door, the sounds of home continued normally.

Plates clinked against each other.

Pushpa moved around the kitchen.

Gopal switched on the small table fan.

“Anu!” Pushpa called out. “Jaldi aa, khana thanda ho raha hai!”

Anu stared at the reflection in the mirror, mind racing.

How was she supposed to walk out and sit across from them at the small dining cloth with this mark glowing on her neck like a secret she couldn’t explain?

The world Arya had pulled her into—bold, reckless, intoxicating—had followed her home.

And in this small house where nothing remained hidden for long…

the game suddenly felt far more dangerous.

_______

While the narrow lanes of Chandni Chowk hummed with life and warmth, the Aryavardhan mansion stood in stark contrast—vast, quiet, and draped in expensive stillness.

The massive mahogany doors opened with a muted thud as Arya stepped inside.

His coat hung loosely over one arm, his tie slightly loosened. Normally, the polished marble floors and the faint scent of expensive room freshener in the foyer helped him shed the day’s exhaustion.

Tonight, however—

his mind refused to settle.

Because the memory of the meeting room hadn’t left him.

Not even for a second.

A faint warmth ghosted across his lips as the images replayed in his mind—Anu perched in his lap, her hair falling free like dark silk, the way her breath had trembled when his lips brushed her neck.

And then—

that unexpected kiss she had placed on his cheek during the meeting.

Arya lifted his hand absentmindedly, fingers brushing lightly against the back of his neck where her hands had tangled into his hair.

A slow smirk appeared.

“Haji Bhai sahab… ho gai aapki ‘important meeting’?”

The teasing voice snapped him back.

Arya looked up instantly.

His expression smoothed into the calm, unreadable mask he wore so effortlessly in front of the world.

Jhende leaned casually against one of the marble pillars, a glass of water in his hand, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Despite their identical age, their bond went far deeper than friendship. Jhende had known Arya long enough to recognize the rare moments when the powerful CEO façade slipped.

And tonight—

Arya looked far too satisfied.

“Haan vo… meeting lambi khich gaiee thi,” Arya replied evenly, attempting to walk past him.

Jhende pushed himself off the pillar and followed beside him.

“Meeting?” he murmured softly, lowering his voice.

“Ya 'Anu' ke saath discussion?”

Arya stopped mid-step.

His eyes shifted toward Jhende slowly.

Before he could respond, the sound of approaching heels echoed across the marble floor.

The rest of the family had arrived.

His mother walked forward first, her gentle presence immediately softening the formal atmosphere of the mansion. Behind her came Harsh—his younger brother—and Harsh’s wife, Mansi.

“Arya beta, itni der?” his mother asked, resting her hand lightly on his shoulder. “Jhende keh raha tha tum dono kisi zaroori kaam mein fase the.”

“Ji Maa,” Arya replied calmly. “Bas wahi purana merger.”

Harsh immediately launched into an excited conversation with Jhende about a new luxury car model he had been researching.

But Mansi wasn’t paying attention to any of it.

Her sharp eyes were studying Arya.

Carefully.

Slowly.

She stepped closer under the pretense of adjusting the collar of his shirt.

“Bro-in-law…” she murmured sweetly, though the curiosity in her tone carried a subtle edge.

“Usually aap thake hue lagte hai office se aake… par aaj…”

Her gaze swept over his face.

“…aaj toh aap kaafi fresh lag rahe hai.”

Her fingers hovered near the top button of his shirt.

“Kaunsi ‘file’ itni interesting thi jo aapne itna waqt laga diya?”

Arya didn’t react outwardly.

But he stepped back just enough to put distance between them.

He knew Mansi well.

She had a habit of probing into things that didn’t concern her, always searching for leverage in the delicate power dynamics of the house.

“Tum ye sab jaan ke kya karogi,” Arya replied coolly.

“Ab ye koi tumhari lavish shopping toh hai nahi jo tumhe samajh aayega.”

The faint smile on Mansi’s face stiffened.

Arya turned away before she could reply.

“Maa,” he said calmly, “main thoda thak gaya hoon. Khana mere kamre mein bhijwa dijiye.”

His mother nodded gently.

“Theek hai beta.”

Without another word, Arya headed toward the grand staircase.

Behind him, Mansi’s sharp gaze followed every step he took.

And beside her—

Jhende struggled to hide a laugh.

Once inside his suite, Arya shut the door and locked it.

The quiet inside the room felt heavier than the entire mansion below.

He walked toward the large mirror and began unbuttoning his shirt.

When the collar opened slightly, his eyes paused on the faint redness on his skin.

The mark left by Anu’s desperate grip earlier.

His fingers brushed over it slowly.

A strange satisfaction settled in his chest.

Reaching for his phone, he unlocked the screen.

The soft glow lit his face in the dim room.

He typed a short message.

“Dupatta utara ya nahi?”

He pressed send.

A slow smile curved on his lips again.

Because he knew exactly what she must be doing right now—

standing in that tiny bathroom in Chandni Chowk…

trying desperately to hide the mark he had left behind.

In the mansion, surrounded by luxury and silence, Arya leaned back against the chair.

The game between them had grown far bigger than a stolen moment in a meeting room.

Shadows were already gathering—Meera in the office, Mansi inside the house.

But tonight—

none of that mattered.

Right now, his entire attention remained fixed on one girl…

standing in front of a cracked mirror,

her heart racing just as wildly as his.

____

The tiny bathroom felt even smaller tonight.

Humidity clung to the tiled walls, turning the air thick and heavy. The lone bulb above the cracked mirror flickered faintly, casting soft, uneven shadows across the narrow space.

Anu sat on the edge of the blue plastic bucket, her dupatta pooled loosely in her lap.

Her fingers hovered over the mark on her neck.

Deep crimson.

Impossible to ignore.

Every time her skin brushed it, a shiver ran through her body. The memory came rushing back instantly—his breath near her ear, the firm warmth of his hands at her waist, the slow, deliberate way his lips had lingered against her skin.

Her eyes closed for a moment.

And suddenly the bathroom felt too quiet.

Too full of him.

The sharp vibration of her phone against her thigh made her jerk in surprise.

“Ah—!”

The device nearly slipped from her fingers before she caught it.

Under the dim light, the screen glowed brightly.

One name.

Arya Sir.

Her heartbeat leapt violently.

She unlocked the message.

Just one line.

“Dupatta utara ya nahi?”

Her breath caught in her throat.

The sheer boldness of the question made heat rush straight to her face.

He knew.

Of course he knew.

He could practically see her in his mind—sitting here, hiding in this cramped bathroom while her parents waited just outside, their voices drifting through the thin door.

Meanwhile she was trying to hide his mark on her neck like some dangerous secret.

Her fingers trembled as she typed.

“Sir please… Mummy-Papa bahar hi hain. Main kaise…?”

She hit send.

The reply arrived almost instantly.

The words appeared one by one on the screen.

“Tumhe lagta hai mera diya vo nishaan chhupane se baat khatam ho jayegi, Anu?”

Her breathing slowed.

Another message followed.

“It’s not just on your skin.”

The typing bubble appeared again.

“It’s in your eyes.”

Her pulse thudded louder.

“It’s in every breath you're taking right now.”

Anu leaned her head back against the cool, damp wall.

A faint, helpless sound escaped her lips before she could stop it.

His voice echoed in her mind as if he were standing right behind her—low, calm, dangerously certain.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard again.

A shy warmth spread through her chest despite her panic.

“Aap… aap bohot bure hain.”

The reply came immediately.

“Bura toh main ab banunga.”

Her heart skipped.

Another message followed.

“Because tomorrow…”

The pause stretched unbearably.

Then—

“I’m not going to let you hide it.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“Wear something that shows me exactly what I did to you.”

Her throat went dry.

The final message appeared slowly.

“Or I’ll have to finish what I started…”

She swallowed nervously.

The screen lit again.

“…in the middle of the office.”

Her heart began hammering wildly.

Anu lifted her gaze toward the mirror.

The red mark stood out clearly against her skin.

Outside the bathroom, she could hear her mother humming softly while setting plates on the table.

The two worlds felt impossibly close.

And impossibly far apart.

Her thoughts were still racing when suddenly—

RATTLE.

The bathroom door shook lightly.

“Anu?” Pushpa’s voice came from outside.

“Beta itni der? Sab theek hai na?”

Panic shot through her instantly.

“Haan—haan Mummy!” Anu blurted out.

“I’m coming!”

In her hurry, her hand slipped on the phone.

Her finger accidentally brushed the camera icon.

Before she could react—

FLASH.

The small bathroom exploded with white light for a second.

The camera had captured the moment.

The image appeared instantly on the screen.

Her hair loose and slightly messy.

Cheeks flushed.

Eyes dark and restless.

And that unmistakable crimson mark glowing against her neck.

Anu stared at the photo in horror.

“No—no—no—”

Her thumb slipped again.

SEND.

The message flew across the screen.

Delivered ✓

Her entire body froze.

Across the city—

in a quiet, dimly lit suite of the Aryavardhan mansion—

Aryavardhan had just received the most revealing proof of their secret night.

For three seconds the screen stayed silent.

Then suddenly—

her phone began ringing.

His name flashed across the screen.

Arya Sir calling…

Outside the door, Pushpa knocked again.

“Anu? Beta jaldi aa”

Inside the bathroom—

Anu stared at the ringing phone, her breath trapped in her lungs.

And somewhere far away in the silent mansion—

Aryavardhan was looking at the photo she had just sent him.

The call kept ringing.

And she had no idea what he was about to say next.