London
The jacket was watching her.
It was draped over the chair in the corner of the hotel room. Black velvet. It looked like a shadow that had detached itself from the wall. It looked like a sleeping animal.
Esha stared at it from the bed. She had been awake for an hour. She hadn't moved.
The jacket smelled.
It didn't smell bad. That was the problem. It smelled like sandalwood. It smelled like rain. It smelled like Zaviyar Khan. The scent had filled the room while she slept. It was thick. It was intimate.
Esha kicked the sheets off. Her legs were cold. Her feet ached.
She looked at her feet. The pinky toe on her left foot was blistered. A red, angry bubble. The Louboutins. The "statement" shoes. They had left their mark.
She got up. She walked to the chair. She touched the velvet. It was soft. It was still heavy with the memory of his body heat.
She shouldn't have taken it. She should have frozen on the balcony. Freezing was better than this. Freezing was safe. Taking the jacket was... something else. It was a transaction. I give you warmth; you give me loyalty.
She hated loyalty. Loyalty was a trap.
She grabbed the jacket. She folded it. She didn't want to look at it. She shoved it into a laundry bag. She needed to get it dry-cleaned. She needed to scrub the scent of him out of the fabric before she gave it back.
She went to the bathroom. The mirror was cruel.
She looked tired. The makeup from last night was scrubbed off, but the shadows were still there. Her eyes looked bruised.
She turned on the shower. Cold water. She needed to wake up. She stood under the spray until her teeth chattered. Until she couldn't feel the ghost of his hands on her shoulders.
Property.
The word echoed in the tiled shower.
You are mine.
She scrubbed her skin. She scrubbed hard. She wanted to wash the word off.
The Office
The Shard was grey today. The sky was grey. The river was grey. The building was grey.
Esha walked through the lobby. She wore armor today. Not a silk dress. A suit. Charcoal wool. High neck. Trousers. No skin. No vulnerability.
The security guard nodded at her. "Ms. Sharma."
She didn't smile. Anya Sharma doesn't smile at security guards. She just walked.
The elevator ride was fast. Her ears popped. Pop.
She stepped onto the 45th floor.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
People were looking. The secretaries. The analysts. They were looking at their screens, then looking at her. They were whispering.
Esha kept walking. She went straight to her glass box.
Her desk was clean. Too clean.
She sat down. She turned on her computer. She checked the keylogger. It was still running. Good.
Then she saw the newspaper.
It was sitting on her keyboard. A physical newspaper. The Financial Times.
Someone had put it there.
Esha looked at the front page.
There was a photo. A big photo.
It was the stairs. The red carpet. Zaviyar was in his tuxedo. He looked like a king. And she was next to him.
The green dress. The diamonds. The smile.
The headline said: KHAN GLOBAL'S NEW SECRET WEAPON.
The caption said: Zaviyar Khan arrives with unknown strategist Anya Sharma. Is she the fix, or the distraction?
Esha felt sick.
She was on the front page. Her face. Her fake face.
Arjun would see this. Her father would see this. Her father would cut this out and tape it to his wall. He would be proud. He would see the weapon he built.
But Arjun... Arjun would see his cousin. He would look closer. He would wonder why the new strategist looked exactly like the girl he used to play tag with.
She crumbled the paper. She threw it in the bin.
The frosted glass door opened.
Zaviyar stood there.
He looked fresh. He looked annoying. He was wearing a navy suit today. Crisp white shirt. No tie. He looked like he had slept for ten hours.
"You're early," he said.
"I don't sleep," Esha lied.
"Come in," he said. "Bring coffee."
He went back into his office.
Esha stood up. She didn't bring coffee. She wasn't his assistant.
She walked into his office. It was cold. Freezing. He kept the AC on blast.
"Close the door," he said.
Esha closed it. The sound of the lock clicking was loud.
Zaviyar was standing by the window. He was looking at the rain.
"You saw the paper?" he asked.
"I threw it away," Esha said.
"Why? It's a good picture. You look dangerous."
"I look like a mistress," Esha said. "The caption calls me a distraction."
Zaviyar turned around. He smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. It was a shark smile.
"Distraction is a strategy, Anya. If they are looking at your dress, they are not looking at my bank accounts. That is the point."
He walked to his desk. He sat down. He picked up a file.
"Sterling," he said.
Esha froze. Her heart skipped a beat. Thump.
Here it comes. The interrogation.
"What about him?" Esha asked. She sat down. She crossed her legs. She tried to look bored.
"I checked," Zaviyar said. He opened the file. "I had my security team run a trace on Sterling's communications this morning. At 4:00 AM."
He looked at her. His eyes were black lasers.
"You were right," he said. "Sterling made three calls to the Roy family office last week. He spoke to Rahul Roy personally. He was negotiating a sale of his stock."
Esha forced herself to breathe. In. Out.
"I told you," she said. "He is a coward."
"Yes," Zaviyar said. "He is. But how did you know? Specifically?"
He leaned forward. He put his elbows on the desk.
"That information was not public," Zaviyar said. "It was not in the market chatter. It was not on the blogs. Sterling was using encrypted lines. Even my team didn't catch it until we looked specifically for it."
He paused.
"So," he said softly. "How did you know, Anya? Did you guess? Or do you have a source inside the Roy family?"
The room felt very small. The air felt thin.
This was the trap. If she said she guessed, he wouldn't believe her. It was too precise. If she said she had a source, he would ask who.
Esha looked him in the eye.
"I don't have a source," she said. "I have eyes."
"Eyes?"
"I saw him at the Davos summit last month," Esha lied. It was a good lie. She knew Sterling was at Davos. "I saw him having lunch with Rahul Roy's assistant. They were whispering. Sterling looked sweaty. Rahul's assistant looked happy. When a rat eats lunch with a snake, usually the rat is selling something."
It was a risky lie. Zaviyar could check the Davos footage. He could check the guest list.
Zaviyar stared at her. He tapped his finger on the desk. Tap. Tap. Tap.
He was weighing her. He was deciding if she was a genius or a spy.
"Davos," he said.
"Yes," Esha said. "I pay attention, Zaviyar. That is why you pay me."
Zaviyar watched her for another ten seconds. It felt like ten years.
Then, he nodded.
"Good," he said. He closed the file. "You have good instincts. Scary instincts."
Esha let out a breath. She didn't let him see it. She did it internally.
"Is that all?" she asked. "I have work to do. I have to fire the rest of the logistics team."
"No," Zaviyar said. "That's not all."
He pushed a new file across the desk. It slid across the marble. It stopped at her hand.
"Since you are so good at predicting the Roys," Zaviyar said, "I have a new job for you."
Esha looked at the file. It was red.
"What is this?"
"Project Icarus," Zaviyar said.
"What is Project Icarus?"
"The Roys are launching a new tech platform next month," Zaviyar said. "It's a cloud computing system. They have invested billions. If it works, they will dominate the market. They will crush us."
Zaviyar leaned back. He looked cruel.
"I want you to kill it," he said.
Esha opened the file.
She saw the blueprints. She saw the code names. She saw the lead developer's name.
Arjun Roy.
It was Arjun's project. It was his baby. He had been working on this for three years. It was his chance to prove to his father that he wasn't just a spoiled kid.
"You want me to sabotage the launch?" Esha asked. Her voice was quiet.
"I want you to destroy it," Zaviyar said. "I want it to fail so badly that the stock crashes. I want Arjun Roy to be humiliated. I want his father to look at him with shame."
Zaviyar looked at her.
"Can you do that, Anya? Can you break him?"
Esha looked at the file. She looked at Arjun's name.
If she did this, she would ruin her cousin. She would break his heart. He was the only one in the family who was kind to her.
But if she said no...
Zaviyar was watching. He was suspicious. If she showed mercy, he would know. He would know she wasn't a shark.
She closed the file. She put her hand on it.
"Yes," she said. "I can break him."
"Good," Zaviyar said. "Do it."
"I need resources," Esha said. "I need a budget."
"Take whatever you need," Zaviyar said. "Just bring me his head."
Esha stood up. She grabbed the file. It felt heavy. It felt like carrying a bomb.
"I will get started," she said.
"One more thing," Zaviyar said.
Esha stopped at the door.
"My jacket," he said.
Esha froze.
"You still have it," Zaviyar said. "From last night."
"Yes," Esha said. "I... I will get it cleaned."
"No," Zaviyar said. He stood up. He walked over to her. He stood very close.
"Bring it back dirty," he whispered. "I like my scent on you."
Esha stopped breathing.
He reached out. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek. It was electric. It was terrifying.
"Go," he said.
Esha turned. She walked out. She walked fast.
She went into her glass office. She sat down. She put the file on her desk.
She looked at her hands. They were shaking.
She had to destroy Arjun. She had to ruin him to save herself.
And Zaviyar... Zaviyar was playing a game. A dangerous game. I like my scent on you.
She put her head in her hands.
She was in too deep. The water was over her head. And the sharks were circling.
She picked up the phone. She dialed a number.
"Papa," she said when he answered. "We have a problem."