Chapter 3

Aria's POV 

Aria barely had time to breathe.

The week had been a blur of back-to-back meetings, endless client calls, and a flood of emails that never seemed to stop. The Tanishq campaign had gone live without a hitch, and engagement rates were already exceeding expectations. It should have been a moment to celebrate, but she didn't have time for that.

She thrived in this chaos. Work was straightforward. Predictable. It didn't leave room for unnecessary distractions—especially ones that came wrapped in cryptic gestures.

Like the bouquet of deep crimson roses currently sitting on her desk.

Paul had placed them there a few minutes ago, watching her reaction closely as he set them down.

"For you," he had said simply.

She hadn't responded, just given the flowers a single glance before turning back to her laptop.

"Throw them away," she said now, typing out an email.

Paul didn't move. "You don't even want to know who sent them?"

"No," she said flatly.

He sighed but didn't argue. The door clicked shut behind him, and she exhaled, pressing her fingers against her temples.

She already had a good idea who had sent them.

Her suspicion was confirmed when she noticed a small white card tucked between the petals.

She pulled it out, scanning the words written in elegant, almost lazy handwriting.

"Not the kind of woman who likes flowers? Let's see what you do with this, then."

No name. No direct hint.

But she knew exactly who it was from.

Kabir Oberoi.

She resisted the urge to crumple the card.

Ever since the first email exchange regarding Veda Islands, he had been—to put it mildly—insufferable. Their professional correspondence had been straightforward at first, but then he had started slipping in these… antics.

The email about the initial meeting had ended with a casual,"Try not to be late. I'd hate to think you're predictable."

The contract draft had come with a note,"Take your time reviewing it. But not too much time. Patience isn't one of my virtues."

And now, this.

She didn't have time for games.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her focus back to the screen. A calendar alert flashed across the screen. Veda Islands Pitch – Team Briefing.

Right. Work. The thing that actually mattered.

She shoved the card into her desk drawer and grabbed her notes before heading to the conference room.

The team was already gathered, waiting for her.

"Alright, let's begin," she said, placing her documents on the table.

A quiet hush fell over the room as everyone shifted their focus to her.

"Veda Islands is looking for a complete branding revamp. They want a campaign that differentiates them from every other luxury resort while reinforcing their exclusivity," she said, flipping through a set of documents. "They're a high-end property, steeped in history, but they don't want to lean on nostalgia alone. Their current branding is sophisticated but lacks a compelling narrative."

She gestured to the visuals spread across the table—breathtaking images of the resort, showcasing its white sand beaches, heritage suites with intricate woodwork, and sleek modern infinity pools juxtaposed against century-old architecture.

"They have the aesthetics, but they need a story," she continued. "Something that positions them as more than just a luxury retreat. A campaign that makes them unforgettable."

Shaunak, one of the strategists, leaned forward. "What if we lean into their heritage? Market them as a sanctuary of history?"

Aria considered it. "That's a start, but it's not enough. We need more contrast. Something that makes them feel alive."

A brainstorming flurry followed—ideas thrown out, some discarded, others tweaked and reshaped. They talked about escape, indulgence, history, and modern luxury. But nothing quite landed.

Then, an idea began to take shape in her mind.

"Contrast," she said suddenly. "We position them as a place where two worlds exist together—heritage and modern indulgence, past and present, tradition and contemporary luxury."

The energy in the room shifted. She could see it in the way her team sat up, interest piqued.

"We show guests stepping into the past without sacrificing the comfort of today," she continued, leaning forward. "Luxury that isn't just timeless—it's a bridge between two eras. A resort that allows you to live history while indulging in the present."

A murmur of agreement swept through the room.

"This isn't just about showcasing a beautiful property," she added. "It's about making people feel something. The contrast—the old-world charm woven seamlessly with modern opulence—that's what will make them unforgettable."

Shaunak nodded. "It's different from the usual 'luxury retreat' angle. It gives them an edge."

"Exactly," Aria said. "Now, let's develop this further. I want three campaign routes by Friday. One conceptual, one experiential, one content-driven. We need storytelling, execution ideas, and a clear plan for digital engagement. This isn't about trying to win this account. We are winning it."

With that, she gathered her papers and pushed her chair back. "That's all for now. Get to work."

As the team dispersed, Paul lingered by the doorway, watching her with a knowing expression. She barely had a second to glance at him before he gestured toward her office.

"By the way," he said, his voice casual, "I didn't throw the flowers."

Aria stopped mid-step.

Paul shrugged. "They look like they belong there."

She exhaled, brushing past him, but the second she walked into her office, her eyes landed on the bouquet. It was sitting by the window, catching the late afternoon sunlight, the deep red petals almost glowing against the backdrop of the city skyline.

Her jaw tightened.

Paul knew.

Of course, he did. He had access to her emails.

And in the last line of Kabir Oberoi's message confirming their upcoming branding discussion, there had been a casual, almost throwaway remark—

"I trust the flowers found their way to you. Seemed fitting."

She stared at the roses for a moment longer before shaking her head and sitting down at her desk.

She had work to do.

And Kabir Oberoi was not a distraction.