The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, releasing Aisha onto the buzzing executive floor. Her pulse raced—not from the height, not from the polished coldness of TitanCorp—but from the man she had just left in his office.
Raj Malhotra.
A shadow wrapped in a suit.
A storm disguised as a CEO.
A man who didn't ask—he claimed.
Her wrist still tingled where his fingers had brushed her.
Or where she thought they had.
She shook the thought away and gripped the contract file tightly as she stepped into the open office area.
Immediately, eyes snapped toward her.
Confused.
Curious.
Jealous.
"Who is she?"
"She came out of the CEO's office?"
"No one goes in there except the board."
"Did he… hire her directly?"
Aisha tried to ignore the murmurs, but whispers slid across the room like knives.
A tall woman in a fitted navy skirt and sharp eyeliner approached her. Her heels clicked with precise irritation.
"You," the woman said. "You're new?"
Aisha nodded uncertainly. "Yes, I—"
The woman raised a brow, scanning her from head to toe.
Not kindly.
Not fairly.
With calculated cruelty.
"I'm Meera Singh," she said. "Senior Manager. Which department hired you?"
Aisha swallowed. "Mr. Malhotra hired me directly."
Silence.
Then—
A burst of laughter from a nearby desk.
"Oh, sweetheart," someone muttered, "good luck surviving a week."
Meera's expression darkened. "He hired you? Himself?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Aisha stiffened. She didn't know the answer herself.
Before she could respond, a male employee leaned back in his chair and smirked. "Probably wants a new—"
He stopped.
Because the temperature of the room suddenly changed.
Everyone stiffened.
A cold shadow fell across the floor.
A presence thickened the air.
Aisha turned.
Raj Malhotra stood there.
Watching them.
Watching her.
His eyes weren't merely dark.
They were lethal.
The entire floor scrambled to straighten up.
"Mr. Malhotra," Meera greeted, suddenly stiff. "Good morning—"
"Step back," Raj said.
His voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
Meera stepped back instantly.
Raj's gaze swept the floor—sharp, dangerous, searching for the source of the wrongness he had sensed.
Then his eyes locked on the man who'd smirked earlier.
Raj didn't blink.
"What did you say?" he asked.
The man paled. "N-nothing, sir."
Raj took a slow step toward him.
One step.
Two.
Everyone stopped breathing.
"You said something when Miss Khanna mentioned she works for me," Raj said, voice soft, deadly. "Repeat it."
The man shook his head urgently. "Sir, I— I didn't mean—"
"Repeat," Raj said again, "what you said."
"Mr. Malhotra—" Meera tried.
Raj cut her off with a single look.
The kind that could silence thunder.
The man's throat bobbed. "I… I said… 'maybe he wants a new—'"
Aisha's breath hitched.
She felt humiliation crawl under her skin.
The man went silent.
Raj didn't.
He leaned forward, voice quiet enough to freeze blood.
"You work here," Raj said, "because I allow it."
The man swallowed.
"You breathe in this company," Raj continued, "because I tolerate it."
A cold silence hung heavy.
"But you do not," Raj said, stepping closer, "speak about Miss Khanna in any way."
His voice dropped into a soft, razor-edged warning.
"Ever."
The man lowered his head. "Y-yes, sir."
"Good."
Raj straightened, his expression unreadable again.
No emotion.
No warmth.
Just control.
He turned to Aisha.
"Come."
The command wasn't loud.
But the entire floor heard it.
And the whispers began again.
She followed Raj into a glass-walled meeting room. He closed the door behind her, but his eyes were still burning with cold fury.
"Did he hurt you?" Raj asked.
Aisha blinked. "N-no."
"Did he insult you?"
"Not directly."
His jaw clenched.
"Indirect insults count," he said sharply.
She had never seen someone so composed and yet so close to fury.
"Raj—"
His gaze snapped to hers at the sound of his name.
A dangerous slow inhale filled his chest.
"I should fire him," Raj muttered, pacing once. "I should—"
"No!" she said quickly.
Raj stopped.
"Do not protect him," he said slowly.
"I'm not protecting him," she replied. "I'm just trying to avoid drama."
"Drama happens," Raj said coldly, "when people forget their place."
"Then let me handle myself," she said.
His eyes darkened even more.
"You belong under my protection," he said. "Not under anyone's judgment."
The word "belong" sent heat—and fear—through her.
"Raj… people are already talking," she whispered.
"They always talk," he replied. "Until I make them silent."
She shivered.
"You're making it worse," she said softly.
Raj stepped toward her, his expression unreadable. "Worse for you… or worse for anyone who looks at you?"
Her heartbeat stuttered.
"You're creating problems you don't need to," she whispered.
Raj leaned forward slightly.
"No," he whispered. "I'm eliminating problems you don't deserve."
Aisha looked away, pulse racing too fast.
"Sit," he said gently.
For the first time, his tone wasn't commanding.
It wasn't cold.
It was calmer.
Still dangerous… but softer.
She sat.
Raj walked around the table and stood beside her.
Too close.
"I brought you here," he said quietly, "because you don't understand this world yet."
He paused.
"And because I don't want anyone touching the place where you stand."
Her breath trembled.
"Why?" she whispered.
He leaned down.
Just enough to send heat through her chest.
"Because you don't see what you are to me yet."
Her heartbeat stumbled violently.
"What am I?" she whispered before she could stop herself.
Raj's eyes sharpened.
His voice dropped to a whisper that felt like possession.
"Something I'm not ready to let go of."
A pulse of fear and something dangerously close to longing rippled through her.
He straightened.
"Your work starts now," Raj said. "Stay close. I'll guide you through today."
Aisha nodded, too overwhelmed to argue.
As Raj turned to the door, he paused.
His voice was soft.
"Don't let anyone here scare you."
Aisha blinked.
"I'm the only one allowed to do that."