Humiliating.
I lean back in my chair and look around my temporary office. Sample books stacked in uneven towers. Fabric swatches pinned to boards. Pencil sketches layered over one another. Black coffee abandoned near my elbow. This room has always made sense to me. Work is the cleanest version of life. Budgets are clear. Walls can be repaired. Lighting can be replaced. Damage can be assessed and fixed.
People are where everything becomes chaos. And Aryan Khanna is the most chaotic person I have ever met.
Too warm.
Too persistent.
Too observant.
Too kind in ways that feel dangerous.
Men like him are supposed to be surface-level creatures. Charm. Money. Smile. Move on. He keeps refusing the script. He notices when I skip meals. He remembers things I say casually. He gives space when I need air and pushes when I hide too long. He jokes when I stiffen. Softens when I crack. He is either dangerous or rare.
Possibly both.
My phone buzzes across the desk. Kamlesh asking about delivery schedules. Life continuing with no respect for emotional crisis. I inhale once and straighten. This is simple. A project. Good money. Nothing more.
I will redesign his office. I will remain unaffected. I will ignore his smile. I willnotnotice his eyes. I will complete the work, take the payment, and move on.
Easy.
My heart gives one hard, traitorous thud at the thought of seeing him. I glare at my own chest.
“Control yourself,” I mutter.
It does not.
And beneath the caution, beneath the irritation, beneath every practical reason I signed—there is one small truth I do not want to touch.
I am looking forward to it.
Which means I am almost certainly going to regret it.
CHAPTER 36
ARYAN
She fell for it. The second she walks into my office carrying her laptop, sketch folder, and that deeply suspicious expression she reserves only for me, I know the plan worked. I should probably feel guilty for orchestrating an elaborate professional trap just to get her in front of me.
I do not.
Because she is here.
Across from me. Yeah, I told her I would be where she wants me to be but that didn’t include her avoiding me as if it were her life mission so I had to do something.
In my temporary meeting room, since the actual office now looks like a badly judged action sequence happened inside it. She lowers herself into the chair opposite mine with the posture of a woman who already regrets every life choice that brought her here.
And yet she came.
That matters more than it should.
She is wearing a plain shirt today, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair tied up in a loose knot that is failing at its job because soft strands keep escaping around her face. There is no dramatic dress, no event makeup, no polished version of her.
Just Ishika.
Sharp-eyed. Guarded. And Very irritated. Beautiful enough to make a man forget his own name. I rest my elbows on the desk and smile slowly. “I heard you were concerned for me, Sunshine.” Her eyes lift immediately, narrowing with practiced annoyance. “I’m hurt you didn’t come yourself to see me.”
