“So, I’ve finished the preliminary zoning,” I begin. “The partitions for the east wing have been marked out and the contractors have started aligning the central pathways. I’ve adjusted the lighting plan to reduce glare and moved the pantry position by a few feet since the original placement clashed with the wiring layout.”
He nods. “Good call.”
His approval shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t feel like anything. Yet something warm flickers in my chest and I stab it with a mental fork.
Focus, Ishika.
“I also added built-in shelving for the lounge area. Jayesh’s original plan had closed cabinets, but the space will feel more open with an open-shelf concept. It will allow us to add plants, books, small decor…human touches.”
His mouth curves slightly. “You like warm spaces?”
“I like realistic spaces,” I correct. “Where people don’t feel like they’re entering a lab.”
He smiles wider. “Didn’t know labs bother you.”
“They don’t,” I reply, annoyed at myself for reacting. “Sterile spaces bother me. They feel…disconnected.”
“Like people?” he asks softly.
My jaw tenses. I don’t want that question near me. Not today. Not any day. I shift my attention back to the papers.
“We’ve also completed 40% of the flooring. The samples you saw last week are already delivered. The contractors will finish the west side tomorrow.”
“I have to say,” he interrupts, smirking again, “you work pretty fast. Makes me feel slow.”
“Good,” I mutter before I catch myself.
His assistant coughs into his sleeve to hide a laugh.
Aryan’s smirk grows. “So you want your boss to feel slow?”
“You’re not my boss,” I shoot back. “You’re my client.”
“Sunshine, at this point I’m whatever you want me to be.”
My head snaps up and my heart races. “Stop calling me that.”
“Then stop reacting,” he replies calmly.
I swear my soul leaves my body for a second. Why does he always have to say things? Things that make sense but also make me want to flip the table.
I take a deep breath. He waits like he knows I need a second to recover.
I continue with the rest of the updates. He listens—really listens—even though he interrupts with little comments or questions that make heat crawl up my neck. He laughs at some point, a real laugh, loud and warm. I don’t remember what I said to trigger it, but I remember wanting to crawl into a hole.
I finish everything. My entire update. And he’s still smiling.
Why is he smiling?
I get up abruptly, closing my file a little too sharply. “That’s all I had to inform.”
He blinks. “Already? That was quick.”
“I speak fast,” I say stiffly. “And work fast. And when you’re done being amused,” I add, feeling my cheeks heat again, “if you still have any questions, you know where to find me.”
His smirk returns instantly.
No. No, no, no. Wrong choice of words, Ishika. Why did you say that? Why did you serve him that opportunity on a silver platter?
