Chapter 12

The next morning, the office was alive with the usual buzz—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, and hushed conversations filling the air. The artificial lighting cast a sterile glow over the neatly arranged desks, but I still felt sluggish from my restless night. Pushing my hair behind my ears, I sank into my chair, rubbing my temples in an attempt to shake off the exhaustion.

"Hey, Vidya! Good morning!"

Emma's cheerful voice snapped me out of my daze. I turned to see her approaching with a familiar green-and-white Starbucks cup in her hand, her brown eyes twinkling with warmth.

I straightened in my seat and smiled. "Good morning, Emma."

She set the cup on my desk with a little flourish. "For you."

My chest swelled with gratitude. A small gesture, but after everything that had happened yesterday, it felt like a lifeline.

"Awe, how sweet of you. Thank you, Emma." I wrapped my fingers around the cup, relishing the warmth seeping into my cold hands.

"No problemo, my friend," she chirped, giving me a wink before returning to her seat.

I took a careful sip, savoring the perfect balance of bitter coffee and sweet caramel, allowing myself a rare moment of peace. But it didn't last long.

A loud thud on my desk made me jump, nearly spilling my drink. My heart slammed against my ribs as I looked up, my stomach twisting at the sight before me.

Thiren.

His sharp eyes bore into me with something close to disdain, his expression unreadable but heavy with intent. His presence alone sent an uneasy chill through me.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "What's the matter?"

He didn't blink. "Go and get a signature from Sir Kathir."

My breath hitched.

"Me?"

I already knew the answer, but a part of me hoped he'd say no, that maybe he'd realize I wasn't the right person for this.

"Yes." His voice was clipped, leaving no room for argument.

I fidgeted with the hem of my sleeve, nerves creeping up my spine. "O-okay."

Thiren walked away without another word, leaving behind a mountain of paperwork and a pit of anxiety in my stomach. I inhaled deeply, gathering the files, and stood up on shaky legs.

The elevator ride to the third floor felt suffocating. I rubbed my forehead stressfully, trying to steady my breathing, but it didn't help. My palms were damp, and my heart pounded as the doors slid open with a soft chime.

There it was.

Kathir Rathore.

The door loomed before me like a barrier between me and something unpredictable. My fingers twitched at my sides as I took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. You can do this, Vidya.

Summoning whatever courage I had left, I lifted my hand and knocked lightly.

"Come in."

His voice was firm, devoid of warmth.

I stepped inside, my footsteps barely making a sound against the floor. Kathir sat behind his massive desk, his sharp features illuminated by the soft glow of his monitor. He was busy typing, his focus unshaken, his posture exuding an air of authority.

"Good morning, sir. I need your signature."

I bowed slightly out of habit, extending the files toward him. He finally looked up, his dark brown eyes locking onto mine for a fleeting second before shifting to the documents.

Without a word, he took the files, flipping through them with practiced ease. A few seconds passed, the only sound in the room being the faint scratch of his pen against paper.

Not even a good morning back? How arrogant.

I bit the inside of my cheek, rolling my eyes subtly when he wasn't looking. The moment he finished, he handed the files back to me without sparing me another glance.

"Have a nice day, sir."

I turned on my heels, eager to escape, but something made me pause. My fingers tightened around the files as an internal battle raged within me.

I should thank him.

For yesterday.

But I hesitated. Would he even care? Would he mock me?

I swallowed my nervousness and turned back to him, clearing my throat.

He didn't look up, but his fingers paused over the keyboard. "What?"

I hesitated, my nerves knotting in my stomach. "Umm… sir, about the incident yesterday—"

Before I could finish, he cut me off.

"I've already signed all the papers. Leave."

The dismissal stung more than I expected. My fingers curled around the edges of the files as irritation flared in my chest.

I just wanted to thank him. Was that so hard to listen to?

I cleared my throat again, refusing to let my frustration show. "Umm… sir, thank you for helping me yesterday. If you hadn't come at the right time, I can't imagine what could have happened to me."

His typing stopped.

For a long, drawn-out second, he didn't move. Then, with a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair and finally looked at me.

His gaze lingered for about three seconds before he spoke. "Okay. Leave."

I blinked.

"Okay?"

That's it? That's all he had to say?

I had just thanked him for saving me, and he acted as if I had told him it was about to rain. My irritation bubbled over as I hugged the files against my chest, rolling my eyes in sheer disbelief.

He caught the gesture.

His jaw clenched slightly, his sharp features tightening. "Are you deaf? I'm asking you to leave."

His tone sent a shiver down my spine. His eyes, dark and unreadable, held a quiet warning.

I suddenly felt like a trapped animal, standing in front of a predator.

Realizing I was pushing my luck, I nodded quickly and turned on my heels. The moment I stepped out of his office and the door shut behind me, I let out a big, exhausted sigh.

Huff… Why is he so creepy?

I muttered under my breath as I descended the stairs. My nerves were still tingling, my mind replaying the way his intense gaze had pinned me in place.

Thiren was waiting at my desk, his expression as pleasant as a thundercloud. I handed him the files, and he snatched them from my grip without a word.

Another annoyance.

Rolling my eyes, I slumped into my chair, mentally exhausted.

Emma leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Hey, are you okay?"

I forced a small smile. "Yeah, just… long morning."

She wasn't convinced. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Isn't Sir Kathir creepy?"

I hesitated. Shaking my head at first, not wanting to fuel any gossip. But then… I nodded. Because yes, he was creepy.

Emma grinned knowingly. "Told you. I've been here for a year, and I still avoid him whenever I can." She rubbed her arms dramatically.

I leaned in, curious. "But why does he behave like that?"

She shrugged. "Who knows? Probably some rich guy ego problem."

She rolled her eyes, and I nodded, sharing her frustration. With a sigh, I turned back to my monitor, but my mind kept drifting back to Kathir's piercing gaze.

The morning passed in a blur of keystrokes and meetings, the dull ache in my temples growing with every passing hour. The relentless hum of fluorescent lights overhead did little to ease my exhaustion. Five hours into work, my shoulders felt stiff, my fingers numb from typing. I rolled my neck, wincing at the uncomfortable crack that followed. A yawn escaped before I could stifle it, and I blinked at the glowing screen, my vision slightly blurred from overuse.

That's when Nitya approached my desk, her hurried steps breaking through the monotonous rhythm of my day. Her usual cheerful face was pinched with urgency as she placed a steaming cup of coffee onto my table. I noticed the slight tremble in her fingers, her nails tapping anxiously against the ceramic.

"Hey, can you help me give this coffee to Sir Kathir?" she asked, her voice laced with desperation.

I frowned."Why me?"

Nitya shifted uncomfortably and pressed a hand to her thigh. "I have leg pain, and I need to leave the office immediately. Please, do this for me."

I glanced at the coffee, then back at her.

"But he's not exactly... approachable," I muttered, lowering my voice as if his name alone could summon him.

Nitya exhaled sharply, her eyes darting around nervously. "Your room is closer to mine, so I thought you'd be the best person to ask. Just don't tell him I left before time. Please, I'm begging you."

Before I could protest, she was gone, disappearing down the hallway as if she couldn't get away fast enough.

I sighed, staring at the coffee cup as if it were my enemy. Of all the things I had planned for today, walking into Kathir Rathore's office was certainly not one of them.

Resigned, I picked up the coffee plate, balancing it carefully as I made my way to the elevator. As the doors slid shut, my stomach twisted uneasily. The memory of my last interaction with Kathir was still fresh—his cold stare, his clipped words, the way his gaze had dismissed me as if I was nothing more than an inconvenience.

And now, I had to serve him coffee.

As I stepped out onto the third floor, the tension in the air was immediate, wrapping around me like a suffocating fog. The hallway was eerily silent, the kind of silence that swallowed sound whole. Even the air felt heavier, colder.

Balancing the coffee plate in one hand, I knocked lightly.

No response.

I knocked again, pressing my ear to the door. Still nothing.

Frowning, I hesitated before testing the handle. To my surprise, it was unlocked.

A shiver ran down my spine as I pushed the door open, stepping inside cautiously. The rich scent of leather and something distinctly masculine filled my senses. His office was dimly lit, the floor-to-ceiling windows casting long shadows across the sleek black furniture. The entire space radiated power, dominance—like the lair of a predator.

And there he stood.

Kathir's broad frame was turned away from me, his stance rigid, shoulders squared with barely contained tension. His silhouette was sharp against the faint glow of his desk lamp. One hand was shoved into his pocket, the other pressed against his earpiece. His voice was low, yet razor-sharp, laced with cold authority.

"Do what I say. I don't want any changes to it. If I find out, I swear I won't think twice about firing you. Do you understand, damn it?" A sharp exhale. "Call me once you're done."

I hesitated. Should I wait for him to finish? But before I could decide, he turned around abruptly—straight into the coffee plate.

The world seemed to slow for a second.

The cup tipped.

Dark liquid splashed against the crisp white fabric of his shirt, staining it instantly.

A sharp gasp left my lips.

"Oh, shit." His voice was low, edged with controlled anger.

My breath caught in my throat.

"I-I'm sorry!" I rushed to set the coffee plate down, fumbling for my handkerchief. Without thinking, I reached forward, dabbing at the spreading stain.

The instant my fingers brushed the fabric, his hand shot up, gripping my wrist in an iron hold.

I froze.

His grip was firm—unrelenting. Heat seared through my skin, his touch burning like fire despite the chill in his expression. His dark eyes locked onto mine, an unreadable storm swirling within them.

"Stop it." His voice was a sharp command.

I swallowed hard. "Let me help—"

"I said, stop it."

His voice dropped lower, dangerously calm, and the quiet intensity in his tone made my pulse skitter. He shoved my hand away as he stepped forward, his sheer presence pressing against me like a heavy force.

"How the hell did you enter my office without permission?"

I stumbled back, my throat suddenly dry.

"I—I knocked, but there was no response. So, I thought—"

"I was on a call, damn it!" His voice cracked like a whip, slicing through the air.

I flinched as he ripped his earpiece out, tossing it onto the desk. He stepped closer, and instinctively, I retreated. My back met the edge of his desk, fingers gripping the cold surface for stability.

His gaze pinned me in place. "Usually, Nitya brings my coffee. Why are you here?"

I hesitated, mind racing. I couldn't tell him Nitya had left early—he'd fire her on the spot. My lips parted, scrambling for an excuse.

"Yesterday, you helped me… so I thought I'd bring you coffee as a thank-you gesture."

He exhaled sharply, his gaze flickering with something unreadable. Then, in one swift motion, he gripped my wrist again, yanking me forward, pinning my hand against the wall.

I gasped.

His closeness was suffocating. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, firm, scorching.

"Sir—Sir Kathir—please, let go." My voice trembled.

His jaw tightened, his grip unrelenting. "Yesterday, I helped you because I didn't want Paul's actions ruining my reputation. That's it."

I froze, my breath hitching.

"What do you mean?"

His eyes darkened. "Imagine if you had died. Imagine the headlines." His voice was cold, calculated. "'KDT ex-employee kills new employee.' My reputation—everything I've built—would crumble. I couldn't let that happen."

The air between us was thick—stifling.

So that was it.

I was nothing more than a liability to him.

My throat tightened, my chest constricting. I tried to pull away, but his grip only hardened.

"Sir, please—you're hurting me." My voice barely reached above a whisper.

Something flickered across his face—just for a second—but then it was gone. His fingers tightened, his presence consuming.

"Don't you dare take advantage of this situation," he warned.

Tears burned at the back of my eyes.

I felt trapped. Like prey in a predator's grasp.

Summoning what little strength I had left, I yanked my wrist free, stumbling backward. He didn't stop me.

Instead, he simply watched.

Cold. Unbothered.

And that, somehow, hurt more than his grip ever did.

I turned away, my legs shaky as I stormed toward the door. Just before stepping out, I paused, my heart still racing.

"I never took advantage of anything, sir." My voice was quiet but firm.

I didn't wait for a response.

The moment I stepped out, I exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to my chest. My skin still burned where he had touched me. My mind still reeled from his words.

Kathir Rathore.

The man was nothing short of an enigma.

And I hated how he was starting to consume my thoughts.