The sharp click of heels echoed through my office before she even stepped inside.
I glanced up.
And there she was.
Kavya Ahuja. The name sounds familiar-I think I have seen her before, I don't know where and how but..her face-it's familiar. I scanned her face for a few minutes.
My new assistant. In a purple suit. Woah. great taste in wardrobe.
A few seconds in, and she already had my full attention. Not because she was my employee. Not because of her qualifications-no. But because she walked in with a quiet strength, like she belonged.
Like she wasn't scared.
Brave. Or foolish. I couldn't tell yet.
I leaned back in my chair, fingers tapping against the desk as I watched her scan the office. Her eyes moved over the glass, the clean interiors-the room I'd built to be clinical, intimidating.
She wasn't intimidated.
Until her gaze met mine.
And she paused.
Interesting.
I let the silence linger.
She was dressed modestly, a purple suit-but there was something unexplainably distracting about the way the fabric clung to her body. The way her slightly messy hair framed her face. The way her lips parted-
No.
Focus.
"Hello, sir." Her voice was steady, but I caught the smallest tremor. She was adjusting. Holding her ground.
"I'm Kavya Ahuja, an MBA degree holder seeking a job based on my intelligence and skills."
I didn't answer immediately.
Instead, I observed.
The way her fingers fidgeted subtly.
The way her throat moved when she swallowed.
She was nervous. But hiding it well.
Cute.
"I know," I said, voice slipping lower than intended.
Her brows lifted slightly in confusion, then she straightened her spine.
"So, Miss Ahuja," I leaned forward just a fraction. "You completed your graduation a month ago and are now looking for a job. Correct?"
"Yes, sir."
Her lips wrapped around those words with unsettling perfection.
I dragged my attention away from her mouth and forced it to the papers on my desk.
"And why should I hire you? You don't have any experience in corporate field"
Let's see how that confidence holds up.
Instead of stammering, she squared her shoulders. "I may not have experience, but I scored top grades in my business exams. I learn fast and adapt quickly-"
"Miss Ahuja."
She froze.
Her throat bobbed again.
And God help me, it was still distracting.
"Y-Yes?"
"You do realize that grades don't impress me?" I tilted my head slightly. My voice dropped, testing her. "If you want to be my P.A., you'll need logical and practical intelligence to handle situations immediately."
She blinked, calculating her response. Good. Fight back, princess.
"I-I understand, sir. I'll do my best to learn quickly."
"I'm not here to teach you." My tone stayed even. "You'll have to figure it out on your own. Can you do that?"
"Yes, sir. I can."
No hesitation.
I smirked. "I like your confidence. Keep it up."
She took a sharp breath.
She wasn't expecting that.
I leaned back again. This time, I watched the details.
The way her breath hitched when I spoke.
The way her fingers curled tighter.
The slight parting of her lips-when she was thinking.
Her lips.
Soft. Tempting.
I clenched my jaw and looked away.
No. Don't go there.
She cleared her throat, bringing me back.
"So, sir... am I hired?"
I tilted my head. "Why so desperate, Miss Ahuja?"
Her eyes widened, just for a second.
Bingo.
She stumbled for words. And there-finally-a flush of pink on her cheeks.
That? That was dangerous and familiar..
"I-I mean-"
"Last question," I interrupted.
She inhaled, straightened, composed herself again. "O-Okay."
She was trying hard not to crumble.
"Why do you want to be my personal... assistant?"
I let the word personal stretch just enough.
And there it was-she tensed.
Adorable.
"I need this job to gain experience in the corporate world because I plan to start my own company in the future."
I blinked.
Not the answer I was expecting.
Not some flattery. No desperation. Just... honesty.
I let a few seconds pass.
"Impressive."
Her eyes lifted. Surprised again.
"So, this is just a stepping stone for you?"
"No-no! I mean, I'll be loyal to you-"
Oh, wrong timing, right word.
I didn't say it. But my smirk said enough.
She realized her mistake.
Too late.
I leaned forward slightly. "Be specific with your words, Miss Ahuja." My voice dipped, just to watch her shift.
"H-Huh?"
I shook my head, smiling. "Never mind. What kind of company?"
"A clothing brand," she answered softly.
Again, unexpected.
My lips twitched. "Of course. What else did I expect?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What did you expect?"
There it was again. That spirit.
It shouldn't have made me grin.
But it did.
"I expected-" I let my eyes lower to her lips. Just for a second. "-that you'd drool over me like my previous female assistant and I will fire you."
She stiffened.
Parted her lips.
Shit.
"Sir-no. You can drool and be professional at the same time."
What.
I blinked. And for the first time in years, I was caught off guard.
She didn't even realize it.
Until she froze.
I raised an eyebrow. "So, you were drooling over me?"
She gasped. "No, no, sir, I was jus-"
"Just?" I pushed.
"...Just answering your question."
I let out a soft laugh.
This girl...
"Alright," I said finally, voice settling into something more serious. "You start tomorrow. First week is a trial."
Her lips parted. "I got the job?"
I nodded.
"Thank you, sir," she said, almost breathless, and turned quickly, walking out without a backward glance.
The door clicked shut.
I exhaled.
Dragged a hand through my hair.
What the hell just happened?
I hadn't planned to hire her.
But something about her forced me too, something connection, I felt connected to her.
It stirred something old in me.
Intresting, I'd like to see how professionally she can work with me.
I GOT THE JOB!
I literally gasped like someone just proposed to me on national TV. Eyes wide, heart racing, I did my signature happy dance that looked more like a possessed octopus trying ballet. Hopped into a cab, and flew home like a lunatic.
The moment I entered my room, I flung myself onto my bed and messaged my business matchmaker slash walking red flag detector.
Me: BITCH. I got the job. Your sexy demon brother accepted my interview.
I stared at the screen like it owed me rent.
Hot Bitch: AHHH I FUCKING KNEW IT!!! I'M HYPERVENTILATING WITH PRIDE, DON'T TALK TO ME RIGHT NOW, I'M CELEBRATING YOUR EXISTENCE WITH WINE AND BAD DECISIONS!!
I laughed so hard I nearly choked on air.
Me: Do you really need to YELL LIKE YOU'RE HAVING AN ORGASM OVER A KEYBOARD?
Hot Bitch: SHUT UP, YOU EMOTIONAL TOMATO. LET ME BE DRAMATIC, OKAY? IT'S MY FUCKING BRAND.
Me: Anyway... bye. He said to start from tomorrow. One week trial. Wish me luck.
Hot Bitch: AHAHA YEAH BABY! Go impress that smug bastard-be it with your brain or your sexy body.
Me: You're a disease.
Hot Bitch: You're welcome.
I giggled like a high schooler getting attention from her crush and texted again:
Me: Where the fuck are you, bitch? You could've at least shown your Satanic self at my place to congratulate me, no?
Hot Bitch: I'm on a flight, you emotional pancake. My bald boss needed the best damn lawyer and obviously, my hot lawyer ass got summoned.
Me: Flight to where?
Hot Bitch: Paris.
Me: Wow. Romance capital of the world. You might come back married to a French mafia guy named Louis.
Hot Bitch: No thanks. There's a man beside me in a suit, looking at me like he wants to suck my soul through my eyeballs.
Me: WHAT? Are you okay? Do I need to send the police? Or Condoms?
Hot Bitch: Calm your tits down, He's just flirting. Looks like a Calvin Klein ad, but talks like a possessed man. I might throw my shoe at him.
Me: Aavya rakhna naam. (Name it Aavya)
Hot Bitch: THE FUCK?
Me: Your future daughter.
Hot Bitch: I SWEAR TO GOD. YOU LITTLE GOBLIN. I HATE MEN. YOU EXPECT ME TO BANG HIM AND MAKE BABIES? IS THIS A WATTPAD STORY?? I hate men. I'd rather marry a goddamn pillow.
I wheezed. My girl never disappoints. I didn't reply, though-I valued my life. She's a lawyer. She knows dangerous things. Scratch that, She is the danger.
Honestly, I was just teasing her-but now she sounded two seconds away from burning down the Eiffel Tower.
I chose violence by not replying and saving my own damn life. Girl could sue me into poverty and still send a gift card after.
Switching off my phone, I flopped onto the bed and closed my eyes.
When I woke up, it was already 2 PM.
"Shit." I scrambled up, panic shooting through me.
Mom's gonna murder me with her paratha roller. I dashed to the bathroom, took a record-breaking shower and rushed downstairs for lunch.
────୨ৎ────
As I took a seat at the dining table, still chewing on the first bite of my paratha, my mother's next words made that same bite teleport straight to space.
"I've found a handsome boy for you."
Silence.
Like, dead silence.
I blinked.
Alara blinked at me.
I blinked at my dad.
My dad blinked at my mom.
My mom? Oh, she just blinked back at me like she dropped the most casual bomb of the year.
"A doctor. Rich. Very sanskari." She beamed like a proud vendor selling quality grooms.
I almost choke-laughed. "Mom, I told you. I don't wanna marry. Not now."
My mom gave me that look-the patented Indian mom look. "Kavya, you're 24. Your younger sister will get married before you at this rate."
Alara, mid-sip of her water, choked.
I rolled my eyes. "Mom, you want to marry me off just because I'm not working? Wah."
And that's when I pulled the card. The trump card.
"Well, now I am employed."
Everyone stared like I'd just announced I was pregnant.
"Doing what?" My mom narrowed her eyes.
"Personal assistant. Big tech company." I paused, bit my tongue, then added, "To Zayn Malhotra."
My mom's spoon clattered.
"Zayn Malhotra?! A man?" she shrieked.
"And what if he does something? What if he stares at you with those eyes? What if he-"
"Oh my God, maa! You want to marry me to a stranger in the name of sanskaar but you're worried about a man I'll literally be working under-I mean, for! Working for!"
Alara was quietly dying on the inside beside me. I glanced at her, begging for help with my eyes.
"Enough," Dad interrupted, trying to act like Switzerland in this war. "Kavya, if you've finished eating, go to your room."
I slammed my glass down. "No. I won't go this time. This isn't fair."
Alara gently shook my thigh under the table.
I gave her a look.
She smiled softly and mouthed 'please'.
But I held her hand and stayed. I wasn't backing down.
"Maa, why are you so desperate to get me married?"
"Because one day I won't be there to protect you!"
"Then raise a daughter who can protect herself. And maybe-just maybe-ask if your daughter wants to be protected by a husband in the first place."
That shut everyone up.
Until-
"Hiss-"
We all turned. Alara clutched her hand, face pale.
"Alara!" my dad rushed to her. "What happened?"
She held up her hand. Blood.
"I-I was searching for my handkerchief... a blade cut my palm..."
"A blade?! Why do you have blades in your damn pocket?" my mom yelled, panicking.
Alara, ever the cool liar, shrugged. "I'm a med student, mom. Blades are part of life."
I jumped from my seat. "Come upstairs. I'll dress it."
Once in my room, I shut the door and crossed my arms. "You did that on purpose."
She gave me a sweet innocent smile. "What do you mean, di?"
"Oh please. That eye conversation with papa? You cut your own hand to distract them?! What the actual hell, Alara?"
She grinned sheepishly. "You were gonna explode. Someone had to do something."
I stared at her, heart melting despite myself. "Idiot. What if you cut too deep, huh?"
"I trust you to fix it." She shrugged.
I shook my head, muttering curses while grabbing the first-aid box. "Dumbass. Who cuts their hand with a fork to save their sister from marriage drama?"
She chuckled, letting me bandage her. "Only I can risk blood for your love life, di."
I looked up. "You knew about Zayn?"
She nodded. "Of course. You think I didn't notice the way your face turned to literal tomato when you came back from the interview? Plus, you mumbled his name in your sleep."
My cheeks heated. "I did not."
"You did. And you said 'Zayn...stop...not here...'" she imitated with a smirk.
I smacked her arm. "Shut up! You're bleeding, not joking."
"I can multitask." She winked.
I laughed. The real, tummy-twisting laugh I hadn't
had in a long time.
Suddenly, there was a knock.
Papa peeked in, eyes soft. "Beta... You okay?"
I nodded. Alara nudged me. I looked at her, then back at papa.
"I'm sorry for shouting," I said softly.
He entered, placing a hand on my head gently. "And I'm sorry you felt unheard."
My heart cracked.
And just like that, for a second, I wasn't just the stubborn daughter.
I was his little girl again.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
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