His (Personal) Assistant

NEWYORK

After breakfast came an hour of introductory meetings for Shivaay where Annika was sent to wait with various other assistants and aides, all of whom wore dark suits, looking extremely buttoned up compared to her. She was tempted to put her hair back up as a middle-aged woman in severely-cut black dress glared at her, but Annika merely scribbled away in her day planner, trying to figure out a semblance of what she would wear to the various appointments she hadn't known she'd have. Luckily she'd over packed, as was her habit, and although she felt bummed she wouldn't get to wander the city like a real tourist, she was glad she wouldn't be showing up to any meetings in her ratty old jeans.

After the meeting, she and the others left out of the serious talk, were taken aside by their employers and Annika scribbled furiously, nodding as Shivaay spoke about setting up more meetings with the American side of things to go over the finer points of detail the Minister couldn't be bothered with.

Once they were on their way down to lunch in the hotel dining room, Annika sprang at Shivaay. "You set me up back there," she snapped.

He raised a brow, pulling out her chair for her. "How so?"

"Everyone else was wearing all black very business-like suits. Why would you tell me to show more skin?"

He grinned. "Because I like being able to find you in a crowd." She bit back the rude retort to that.

A:"I have dark long hair, Shivaay,and probably the only olive skin coloured, it shouldn't be hard."

S: "That, and the American minister they have as Senior Undersecretary here-"

"He's called the Chief of Staff," she cut in. Shivaay rolled his eyes.

"Whatever he's called, he kept commenting how it takes our end too long to finalize things. I figured why not provide the man some excuse as to why we're so slow." Her brow furrowed and he grinned. "Needless to say he's shocked we get anything at all done with 'pretty beautiful assistants looking good enough to eat' around us all day."

Annika felt her face going red as she blushed and Shivaay chuckled. "Well that's still not very nice," she mumbled, even if she was a little flattered.

"Imagine what he would've said had you been showing a little more skin like I said," her boss teased. The afternoon was filled with more meetings between Shivaay and the American Chief of Staff, and Annika sat in the conference room, taking notes and passing the odd thing to Shivaay as he needed it, making sure his coffee was at his elbow before he asked for it at three, and avoiding meeting the eyes of the American, a Mr. Reynolds, who she could feel staring at her as he talked.

Much later, when Annika was sitting down to dinner with Shivaay, she was feeling tired and grouchy. Reynolds had come up to her at the end of the meeting and offered her triple what Shivaay was paying her to come to America and work for him instead, promising to make the move 'well worth her while'. She'd politely declined smiling through the urge to jab her pen into his eyeballs.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I can't wait to get back to India," she said after they placed their orders. The arrogant man grinned.

S:"Missing home already?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I don't know how you do it." In the months she'd worked for him, Shivaay had gone away overseas at least a half-dozen times.

He shrugged. "You get used to it. And it's probably harder when you have people to miss." He delivered the comment with his usual quirk of the mouth that hinted at a smile but there was a resigned look in his eyes that made her wonder.

"Who do you miss when you go away?" she asked. His grin was sincere this time, but his cerulean eyes were still resigned and there was a definite hint of sadness there.