What keeps the world moving? Love? Certainly not. Hope? Not really. Money? Absolutely, and no one knows it better than the rich upper class elites of India. But money is not the only thing you can earn. In fact, these elites will tell you there is o...
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I am discussing the company's monthly budget with my father and the CFO, when my PA's face peeks out from the door.
"Sir-"
"Not now, Neha. I told you not to disturb me. Whatever it is, it can wait." I say, not bothering to look up from the reports in front of me.
"But, sir, there's a woman in your office claiming to be your fiancée." My head immediately snaps upwards. After a moment of confusion I realize there is only one woman who can say anything of that sort.
"Who is this woman?" I ask. She hesitates.
"Samiksha Arora." What the fuck is she doing here?
"And where is she now?"
"Sh-She's in your office."
"And why is that? You know the protocol- nobody enters my office without my permission." I say in a deadly calm manner.
"Yes, sir, I know, but she th-threatened to sue me if I so much as touched her, and then went straight to your office." Neha looks like she is about to cry because she knows she fucked up. I look at my dad who is trying to hide his smile, but failing miserably. Of course, he thinks all of this is funny.
I don't reply, because I know I won't have any control over my words if I do. I am fuming, at Neha for disobeying me, but mostly at my dearfiancée, because who the fuck does she think she is? I get up, not bothering to dismiss the meeting, and march straight to my office. I don't know what to expect. I've become accustomed to people being scared of me, after all it did take work to be able to make grown men shake in their boots with just one glare. But I know she's not afraid of me, as she's made it clear on our date/meeting.
What I don't expect, though, is for her to be sitting on my chair behind my desk, a phone to her ear. I take her in as she replies to whoever she is on call with. She's dressed professionally, in a white silk blouse tucked in dark pants. She's wearing minimal makeup except the bold shade of lipstick.
"No, that's inconvenient. If I don't get the final contract by evening, he's done." She doesn't wait for a reply as she cuts the call. She looks up at me from her position, but doesn't say anything.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" I ask her in a strained voice, barely containing my anger.
"I need to talk to you about something important. Take a seat." She motions at the chair across her, and leans back into my chair, as if this office belongs to her and I am the visitor. I remain standing.
"If you need to talk to me, make an appointment with my secretary. I don't care whether it's important or not, you don't come into my office without my permission." I almost yell at her while she seems unfazed. I am usually more... composed when I am angry. I prefer to let my actions do the talking than my words. When somebody wrongs me, I don't yell or throw tantrums. No, I make sure there are consequences. People are scared because they know their life is about to be destroyed, and it's because of me. But, this woman in front of me pisses me off to an extent where all I can see is red. Where I lose all control.
