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“Send her in.”
Ranveer rolled his chair to face away from the door. He didn't want her to easily see him. If she really knew him, she would recognize him easily, and he wanted to see her reaction when that happened.
“May I come in?”
He heard her voice at the door. He gestured for her to enter.
“Close the door,” his voice was commanding.
Maya shut the door and stood there. She couldn't see his face, and neither desired. It would be easier if they spoke without seeing each other. If only her wishes fulfilled so easily.
“Sit down, Miss Bajaj,” he flipped through the file he had been pretending to read, keeping his back to her.
“Thank you,” she sat on the chair.
“Did you like your pictures in the newspaper?” he asked.
Maya swallowed hard. Oh yes, she had almost forgotten about that. Did he have those articles printed?
“Yes, it was not necessary though,” she replied, hesitating.
“You are not in a position to decide that. Anything that gives me and my work publicity will always be on every channel and in every magazine.”
Maya rolled her eyes agreeing to this point though. Did he allow the media to broadcast this event on TV? If so, she was in deep trouble. She could hide the newspaper, but she couldn't hide the TV remote. Her mother shouldn't watch that channel at any cost.
“I thought you were a woman of opportunity, Miss Bajaj. You have changed my opinion of you.”
He turned around, and as their eyes met, Maya clenched her fists below the table. He smirked knowingly. So, she recognized him. Good. He read exactly what was going on in her mind. Maya had clenched her fists in anger, wondering how to handle this situation, how to react to him. He knew the apology that she thought she was here for was now out of the question.
Her eyes burned with anger she couldn't contain. If she had known it was him, she was meeting today, she would have gladly accepted the loss of incentives rather than facing him. Even though this was the first time they were seeing each other, she should have recognized him by his voice. How could she forget that cruel voice that had brought her to tears in the past, even before he could finish a sentence over the phone?
“So, how's life?” he asked casually, trying to avoid the discomfort reflected on her face. Maya remained silent, and for once, he appreciated it. She was wearing an outfit in his favorite color, red, although he knew it was unintentional. Ranveer's gaze grew intense when he noticed a drop of sweat forming on her forehead. Immediately, he handed her a tissue, but she refused to even touch it.
“This meeting is over,” she snapped, standing up to leave. She had barely taken a few steps towards the door when his strong arm pulled her back. It all happened so quickly that she lost her balance, but his other hand came to her aid, gently resting on her waist to steady her. There was everything in their gaze—fire, anger, pain, and above all, the power to burn each other.
It took her a moment to shrug off his support.
“Whether this meeting is over or not, it is my decision. Not yours,” he growled.
“Keep the incentives. I don't need them anymore,” she snapped.
He grinned wolfishly; his eyes gleaming darkly.
“That means he is still supporting your needs.”
Maya's hand twitched, wanting to slap him, but she knew it wouldn't be so easy. She wasn't afraid for her career, even if he destroyed it, but she worried about the impact it would have on her mother's health treatments.
“Go to hell,” she shouted at him and stormed out of the cabin. He followed her to the door, watching her disappear into the wide lobby.
“Hell?” he muttered to himself. “I am already in Hell, Miss Maya Bajaj, and very soon I'll need company… You.”
Angry, he slammed the door shut and got back to work. He picked up the intercom to give the next set of orders to Aman.
“Cancel Miss Bajaj's incentives. I don't want her to be paid for this contract at all.”
Aman was confused. What had happened to his boss? Just a few hours ago, he had shown extreme fondness for this woman, and now that he had the information he needed, he wanted to push her away. Why?
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