The elevator ride felt longer than it should have.
Aarvi stood beside Riyan, trying to keep her breathing steady. She had never been this close to someone who carried power so effortlessly. Even his silence felt heavier than most people's words.
He didn't glance at her once.
Not when the elevator doors closed.
Not when it stopped at three different floors.
Not when two employees entered, took one look at him, and immediately straightened their posture.
Aarvi swallowed.
She understood why everyone behaved this way. Riyan Malhotra didn't need to speak to command respect. His presence did the work for him.
When the elevator reached the ground floor, he stepped out without waiting for her. She hurried after him, holding her folder to her chest.
They walked toward the meeting hall—he with long, confident strides, she with quick steps just to keep up. At one point, she nearly tripped, her heel catching on the carpet.
His hand shot out instinctively.
He caught her wrist before she fell.
Aarvi froze.
His grip was firm but not harsh, warm in a way she didn't expect from a man who behaved like winter wrapped in a suit.
"Walk carefully," he said, his voice low.
"I—I'm sorry," she whispered, embarrassed.
He released her immediately, as if realizing the contact lasted a second too long.
Riyan looked ahead, giving no sign the moment affected him. But something subtle shifted in his face—like he wasn't used to touching anyone at all.
They continued walking, and this time he slowed down just enough so she wouldn't struggle to follow.
Aarvi noticed.
He didn't comment on it.
And she didn't question it.
When they entered the conference room, three men stood up instantly.
"Mr. Malhotra," they greeted, almost too politely.
Riyan nodded once. "Let's begin."
Aarvi sat beside him, her hands trembling slightly as she opened her notebook. She tried to focus, but the men's eyes darting toward her made her stomach tighten.
One of them—an older man with a thick moustache—leaned forward. "New secretary?"
Aarvi stiffened.
Riyan didn't even look up from the documents.
"Yes."
"She looks young," the man said, amusement in his voice.
Aarvi lowered her gaze.
Riyan's tone sharpened instantly.
"Is that relevant to today's discussion?"
Silence fell.
The man cleared his throat and looked away.
Aarvi blinked, surprised. He hadn't defended her gently. He hadn't defended her kindly. But he had defended her.
Throughout the meeting, she took notes as instructed. Riyan barely spoke—only when necessary, and always with absolute control. She watched him work, watched the way people reacted to him.
Power wasn't loud.
Power was quiet.
And Riyan Malhotra embodied that completely.
Halfway through, he leaned slightly toward her, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
"Write down: renegotiate clause five. Their offer is weak."
A shiver ran across her skin—not because of his words, but because he spoke close enough for her to feel his breath on her ear.
She wrote quickly, hoping her handwriting didn't shake.
Two hours later, the meeting finally ended. The men left quickly, almost relieved.
Aarvi stretched her fingers quietly, realizing how tense she had been.
"Show me your notes," Riyan said.
She handed him the notebook.
He scanned the pages. Slowly. Thoroughly.
She kept her eyes on the table, heart pounding. What if she made mistakes? What if he regretted hiring her?
But after a moment, he closed the notebook and handed it back.
"Good," he said.
Aarvi blinked. "Good?"
He nodded once. "Better than I expected."
Her chest warmed at the unexpected acknowledgment.
Before she could respond, his phone vibrated, and his expression hardened instantly—enough to erase whatever softness had appeared in the last few minutes.
He turned away slightly as he answered.
"What is it?"
A pause.
"I told you not to call me unless it was urgent."
A beat of silence followed.
Then his voice dropped to something that didn't sound like a CEO—
It sounded personal.
"I said I don't want to talk about her."
Aarvi looked down at her hands, pretending she hadn't heard the tremor in his tone.
Who was her?
And why did the mention of that woman change something in him so completely?
Before she could think further, he ended the call abruptly and said, "We're done for the day. Go back upstairs and organize the summaries."
Aarvi stood, gathering her things.
As she walked ahead, she didn't notice Riyan's gaze lingering on her—quiet, unreadable, and conflicted.
He had hired her to keep things professional.
He had made strict rules.
But rules were easy to make.
It was harder to follow them when the one breaking every boundary was himself.