Her eyes widen in pure offense and she gasps softly. “Don’t call me that!”
“Why not?”
“Because—I am not sunshine.”
“Oh, you absolutely are,” I say with a dramatic nod, mostly because watching her bristle is delightful. “You walked in here and lit up the entire room.”
“That is the worst line I’ve ever heard,” she mutters.
“Says the woman who called my coffee a crime.”
“It was.” She huffs and clenches her jaw, “Golden boy,” she adds suddenly, glaring at me.
I choke on air. “Golden boy?”
“Yes,” she says, lifting her chin, cheeks slightly pink. “It fits you.”
I burst into laughter. Actual laughter. Not polite, not practiced—just real amusement spilling out.Golden boy. That’s new. And honestly? I don’t hate it.
“I get on your nerves, don’t I?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer. But her twitching eye answers for her. Her reactions are adorable. Her frustration is adorable. Her attempt to remain unaffected is adorable. But that’s not why I’m hiring her. The truth is—she actually knows what she’s doing. She understands design intuitively. She sees the company the way I want it to be seen. And she has ideas that aren’t recycled or safe. She sees more than the surface.
“Alright,” I say, shifting into CEO mode but keeping my tone warm. “On your way out, my assistant will give you the contract. You can go through it and sign it so we can start as soon as possible—if that works for you?”
She nods instantly. “Yes. That works.” She closes her file, gathers her bag, and stands. She still looks slightly dazed—as if she hasn’t fully recovered from the embarrassment of earlier. I stand as well, mostly out of habit, and gesture toward the door. She reaches for the handle, and I can’t resist.
“Ishika?” She pauses, turning her head slightly.
“Next time,” I say, voice light, “maybe don’t insult the CEO before you know who he is.” Her eye twitches again. I hear thesharp inhale she tries to hide. Her lips part like she wants to argue but also wants to sprint out of the room, so she decides to smile, a very fake one and I almost laugh.
The door closes behind her with a soft click. I lean back in my chair, exhale, and a laugh finally escapes me without warning.
This…this is going to be fun. I settle deeper into the chair, a smile tugging at my lips.
Very, very fun.
CHAPTER 6
ISHIKA
I leave the conference room the second the door unlocks behind me, practically fleeing like it's burning behind me.
My heart is still thudding in my throat, which is absurd because I didn’t run a marathon; I just accidentally insulted the CEO of a multimillion-dollar company to his face. Repeatedly. And then called himGolden Boylike I was naming a pet rabbit.
The corridor is far too bright for the kind of shame I’m carrying. I clutch my bag against my side, eyes glued to the floor tiles like they’ll open a portal and swallow me whole if I stare hard enough. My skin feels warm, my neck is too hot, and my brain is performing a hostile takeover of my dignity, replaying every stupid thing I said in that room.
“I’ve been sitting here for half an hour.”
“This coffee is a crime.”
“You need to be on time.”
“Golden boy.”
Oh god. I actually said ALL that. Out loud.
I can feel my soul leaving my body just thinking about it.
