His (Personal) Assistant

INTERVIEW

Annika smoothed her skirt for the nth time, nervously checked her watch again, and resumed her unflinching stare at the lavish door across the waiting area. She was applying for a job, a job she really wanted and really needed. She chewed her lips in anxiety wondering what could possibly be taking so long.

She had applied to this dream position only few days ago, hardly thinking whether she would get the job or even be considered, but after getting a call back for a follow up interview, she had turned into a complete nervous wreck. It wasn't like she was unprepared or underqualified, infact if anything she had more credentials than was strictly necessary – it was just that she'd never been good at sucking up and playing polite with high ministry executives, considering that she was certain that interviewing for the personal assistant of the Chief Foreign Minister would require both. That and the fact that the last candidate had been in there for almost half an hour now and she began to worry that maybe she was forgotten entirely.

Just as she resolved to knock on the door, it opened and the young woman who had gone in so long came out, smiling broadly and adjusting her skirt, which seem to have ridden up slightly. "Thank you for considering me for the position" she purred to the person who was conducting the interview. Haughtily she said "It's been an absolute pleasure."

"The pleasure was absolutely mine. We'll let you know, the results of your interview in a couple of days time," replied a deep, definitely male voice that Annika found oddly familiar, but before she could put a finger on who it might belong to, the other young women was striding across the reception area, looking smug, and cast her a condescending look.

"Good luck," she said, and laughed as though at some private joke as she continued on to the hallway that would lead to the lifts.

Annika opened her mouth to reply, disliking the feeling that it was her the other woman was laughing at, but just then, the deep voice from within the office called her name, and she stood up, quickly smoothing her skirt once more, and snatched up her bag. Her stomach churned and her mouth went dry as her nerves spiked, but she forced herself to exude cool confidence as she crossed to the door and stepped over the threshold into a largely appointed, very well decorated office.

A young man with curly-black hair and steely cerulean eyes, clad in a pair of sharply stylish charcoal suit, sat behind a large mahogany desk, a file and laptop in front of him, smirking up at her and looking more than slightly dishevelled. "Annika Vadhera," he repeated, standing up and offering his hand. "I'd introduce myself but it seems a tad unnecessary."

"Shivaay," Annika replied blankly, shock rendering her motionless. She merely stared at his proffered hand, gaping a little at her brother's longtime best friend who continued to smirk at her. "What are you-? Surely you aren't-?"

The man laughed, sitting back in his chair and waving her into one of the ones opposite. "Indeed, I am. Newly appointed Senior Foreign Minister ; well, relatively new, at least. Viren didn't tell you?"

Annika shrugged as she sat. "Why would he do that? It's not like I really c-" She cut herself off before she put her foot in her mouth as rambled on about not really caring about Shivaay's career achievements, but the overconfident man seemed to know what she'd been about to say anyway. "Anyway, congratulations I suppose," she continued trying to cover her embarrassment.

"Thank you," he replied, looking at her curiously. "So, down to business." He glanced down at the mess of files on his desk, plucked out what appeared to be her resume, and looked back at her. "I see you're very obviously qualified for this, and I've no doubts you're more than capable, but I will admit, I'm a little surprised you applied."

"In my defence I didn't think you-" Annika stopped herself again and changed tack at top speed, "I mean, that's to say rather, I want the experience. And like you said, I'm more than qualified, so-"

"You do realize the full breadth of what your duties would be, of course?" Shivaay cut across smoothly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, looking slightly amused. "This position, though coveted I'm told, has a notorious turn-over rate. Hell, I've already been through four in the last six months. You'd have no days off, no weekends, absolutely no holidays, and I can guarantee you won't be able to maintain a relationship; you'd be on call every hour of every day." He cocked a brow at her, almost as though he doubted her and the level of her dedication.

"I'm aware of the necessary sacrifices. And as for relationships, I don't have them; at least not in the sense you're thinking," she replied coolly, tossing her long, deep hair over one shoulder.

Shivaay's brow went up a fraction, his gaze turning appraising, and he sat back, steepling his fingers before him as he regarded her. Her brown eyes flashed away self consciously for a moment, but she forced herself to meet his gaze again and hold it. "So you're willing to do whatever I ask, whenever I ask it?" he drawled.

Annika's mouth hardened into a line; she positively loathed being underestimated. "If it pertains to the job, sure," she replied.

The arrogant man chuckled to himself. "That's the issue, Annika; I am the job when it comes to being my assistant. If I need it, I need you to know without being asked, if I forget something, I need you to remember before I realize I've forgotten it, and most important of all, if I look bad in pretty much any way, you, honey, look worse. Still game?"

"I can do that," she said firmly, sticking out her hand. "And so long as you never call me honey again, I'll be at your beck and call." She smiled sweetly and the notorious man grinned.

"Excellent. You start Monday, be here six o'clock sharp, coffee black without any sugar and piping hot sitting on my desk, and the newest figures for the benefit luncheon expenses. I swear that goddamn event-planner is trying to bleed the Ministry dry." Annika, who had quickly jotted the instructions down in a little black-bound notebook, nodded, facial muscles relaxing as it hit her that she'd just landed a pretty impressive position in the Ministry support staff, one that many young woman would curse for, and she grinned, eyes bright with excitement.

"Got it. And thank you, so much," she gushed, quickly gathering up her things. "I promise you, you won't regret this decision!"

He inclined his head slightly. "I should imagine I won't regret it in the slightest," he murmured as she walked quickly to the door. "Oh, and Annika?"

She turned back, face innocently curious, looking as eager to please as a new puppy. "Yeah?"

"When you come in Monday morning, if you're wearing those shoes, you're fired. That's all." He waved her out and, stunned, the poor girl exited, looking down at her shoes. They weren't that bad, she reckoned, and maybe he was just trying to be funny. She pursed her mouth and headed home, unable to let the shoe comment dampen her high spirits at having landed the assistant position. Sure, she probably only got the job because she happened to know Shivaay and he was best friends with her brother, but Annika also knew she was the best person for it; she was organized, efficient, hard-working, and meticulously professional. She smiled as she exited the lift into the Reception and headed toward the exit to take a bus towards her home, thoroughly pleased with herself and excited to start working, even if it had to be for Shivaay Singh Oberoi.

Author's Note : Another story on Shivika. This will be entirely different from My (Fake) Wedding. i.e. less family involvement, new character traits of Shivaay and Annika. Nothing borrowed from ishqbaaz just the name of the pairing. Also, it is a mature content so keep that in mind, Should I continue ? Do you like it? Do comment.

This chapter is 1300 words. Happy reading and Stay Safe.