After several hours of restless anticipation, I arrived at Kathir's towering office building by taxi. The sleek glass structure loomed above me, its surface reflecting the fading hues of the afternoon sky. The polished facade exuded an air of prestige, but to me, it felt cold and unwelcoming, a fortress of power that I wasn't sure I wanted to step into.
My heart pounded against my ribs as I adjusted the hem of my black skirt, smoothing down the creases of my formal white shirt. The business attire felt stiff, foreign—like a costume I was forced to wear to blend into this corporate battlefield. Taking a deep breath, I pushed through the revolving doors.
Inside, the air was crisp with the scent of expensive cologne, polished wood, and fresh paper. The lobby stretched wide with pristine marble flooring that gleamed under the artificial glow of the ceiling lights. A few employees moved about in their tailored suits, their conversations hushed yet purposeful. The faint click of heels echoed through the space, blending with the soft hum of air conditioning.
I walked toward the reception desk, my heels tapping against the floor with each measured step. The receptionist—a young woman with short, sleek hair and sharp eyes that missed nothing—barely looked up as she typed on her keyboard. She was the embodiment of efficiency, her expression unreadable.
Clearing my throat, I leaned slightly forward. "I want to know the reason behind his behavior," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to her.
She finally glanced at me, her gaze flickering with mild curiosity before she reverted to her neutral, professional demeanor. "May I help you?"
"I need to meet with Kathir," I said, injecting as much confidence as I could into my voice. "I have a few documents from Sanjay to hand over."
The receptionist arched a brow, as if assessing me. "Oh, wait a moment." Her fingers danced over the telephone keys, and within seconds, she was speaking into the receiver, her voice soft yet clear.
"Hello, sir. Sanjay's assistant is here to meet you." A slight pause. Then she turned to me. "What's your name?"
"Vidya," I responded, my voice steady despite the tension creeping up my spine.
She relayed the information, nodded at whatever Kathir had said, and then hung up. "He asked you to meet him."
I swallowed hard. "Okay."
The elevator ride to the third floor was agonizing. The cabin smelled faintly of metal and air freshener, but it did nothing to settle my nerves. Each floor chime felt unnaturally loud, like a countdown to something inevitable. I clutched my purse tighter, my thoughts racing. Would Kathir act the same way he did with Catlyn? Would he threaten me too?
When the doors finally slid open, I stepped out into a silent corridor, the soft carpet muffling my footsteps. My gaze instinctively landed on Kathir's office door at the end of the hallway. A rush of memories surfaced—the way he had grabbed Catlyn's arm, the sharpness in his voice, the ruthless dominance in his gaze.
I clenched my fists, steeling myself before approaching the door. With a deep breath, I knocked.
"Come in," a deep voice commanded from within.
I hesitated for a fraction of a second before pushing the door open.
Kathir sat behind a sleek black desk, his presence overpowering even from a distance. The sharp angles of his face, the piercing light brown eyes, the perfectly tailored black coat—everything about him screamed authority. His right hand held a stack of papers while his left twirled a pen absentmindedly. The rhythmic motion was a stark contrast to the intensity of his gaze.
The office smelled of leather, a hint of musk, and the faintest trace of room polish. The ambiance was sophisticated, yet suffocating.
I froze in the doorway, my mind momentarily blank. The memory of his grip on Catlyn's wrist flickered in my head, making my stomach tighten. But I forced myself to step inside.
"G-g-good morning," I stammered, the words slipping out before I could compose myself.
Kathir lowered the paper in his hands, his gaze locking onto mine with unnerving precision. One eyebrow arched in silent command. "Repeat."
I blinked, thrown off. "What do you mean, repeat?"
He exhaled slowly, as if I were testing his patience. "Call me Sir."
I stiffened. Was he serious? The arrogance in his tone was unbearable, but I knew better than to challenge him outright.
I gritted my teeth, swallowing my pride. "Sir," I muttered.
Kathir tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. "From the top. Say it again."
A flicker of defiance flared within me, but I kept my expression neutral. "Good morning, Sir."
He leaned back in his chair, studying me. "Where is the bow?"
My heart lurched. "Bow?"
His gaze didn't waver. "Start from 'good morning' and bow."
I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks. Was he testing me? Mocking me? My fingers curled into my skirt, frustration bubbling under my skin. But I needed to hand over the documents, so I forced myself to comply.
"Good morning, Kathir Sir." I bent slightly, my hair slipping over my shoulder. Hastily, I adjusted it and straightened, my face burning with embarrassment.
Kathir didn't react. His expression remained unreadable as he stretched out his hand, still focused on his papers.
Relieved, I quickly handed over the documents. I turned to leave, but his voice cut through the air.
"Wait."
I stopped, my fingers tightening around the door handle.
"I didn't ask you to leave," he said coolly, standing from his chair in a single, effortless motion. His presence seemed even more daunting up close. "I hired you. Why haven't you started working?"
I inhaled sharply, my pulse quickening. "I... I don't want to work here."
His jaw tensed. "Why?"
"Because I'm Sanjay's assistant, and my goal is to become a nutritionist."
Kathir's eyes flickered with something unreadable before they darkened. "How dare you reject my offer?"
Before I could react, he strode to a cabinet, pulled out a thick file, and turned back to me. The tension in the air became suffocating.
"Then I don't need this project," he muttered, gripping the papers as if ready to rip them apart.
Panic shot through me. "Stop!" I cried, my voice cracking.
Without thinking, I reached out, my fingers wrapping around his knuckles in desperation. His skin was warm, his grip iron-like. The moment my hand touched his, Kathir's gaze flicked to mine, and something shifted in his expression.
I snatched my hand back, my heart pounding. "Why are you doing this?" My voice trembled, but anger laced my words. "You can't force someone to work for you!"
Kathir's gaze turned to ice. And then, without warning, he grabbed my wrist.
I gasped at the sudden contact, his grip almost bruising. My pulse roared in my ears as his light brown eyes burned into mine.
"Do you know how many people would kill for this job?" he hissed. "I lost an employee because of you. Do you think that's easy for me?"
Tears welled in my eyes, my wrist aching from his grasp. I had no choice.
"Alright," I whispered, defeated. "I'll work here."
Kathir's breath fanned against my face as he exhaled. A shiver ran down my spine. Slowly, he released my wrist.
"Problem solved," he muttered. "Now, get out."
I fled.
As I sank into the taxi seat, I glanced at my reddened wrist, my chest tightening.
I can't believe I once had a crush on him.
I'm glad I never confessed. Such a bastard.