Tangled Redemption

Chapter 2

It is cold.

The icy air clung to me like a predator, chilling my skin. Rubbing my hands against my arms, I endeavored to generate heat to settle down the nervousness of the upcoming disaster. I wasn't sure if it could be a disaster when I was still in my office, waiting to embark on the journey to his office.

Cold. So cold.

With a stink eye, I stared at the AC, settled on the top of the wall, directly above my figure on the couch. If looks could kill, I would be delighted if the monstrous machine would magically stop working, and I could go back to curating the proposal.

"Stop it," The voice snapped me out of the staring contest between me and the decreasing temperature.

I shouldn't feel this cold when heat slithered through my body when eyes blazed with fury, but nothing helped.

I rolled my eyes, shifted my gaze to the words and figures on the paper and comprehended to memorize the proposal I had generated months back. "Who told you to commit?" I finally hissed, my voice laced with ice.

He shifted uncomfortably under my gaze; his carefree demeanour was replaced by a nervous twitch. "I had no choice. He had me at throat hold, threatening to break the marriage contract," Sagar justified.

Levelling my eyes to his figure, standing next to the glass table in the middle of the room, I hissed, "You could have called me." I was the head of the company, not he, but he made a statement which I couldn't break. "Pray tell, how are we supposed to pay the vendors?"

"We will work it out. Amanah is looking at the books, and by the end of the day, we will have a solution."

I wish I could grab his head, smash it against the glass table and knock sense about the gravity of the situation. We didn't have stored funds to pay the vendors, nor could we delay their payments because that's what made us better than others. Timely payments.

I held his gaze, fury clutching every corner of this room, his awkwardness bouncing in the corners, and he squirmed under my eyes.

"Vani, yaar," he broke the staring contest. "I am sorry, but I will work it out. Give me time."

"You better," I spat, curling my cold fingers around the black file. "I need the payments cleared by the end of this week, and if they are not, you know how bitchy I can be."

"I miss the old you." Internally, I cringed at his comment, but outwardly, I showed no impact his words could have.

If the old me was here, she wouldn't be running a business. The old me would have cowered to the threat made by Rehan two days back. The old me would have run away to the other corner of the room, hiding in the corner—waiting and thrashing for someone to save her from the problems.

Old me couldn't breathe anymore. I wouldn't allow it.

"The old Vanya," I echoed, my voice dripping with venom, "is buried six feet under. This Vanya plays her games, and she plays it to win."

I wouldn't back down despite his threat looming in the air.

I stood up, pressed my hand to the wrinkled beige pants and hoped to smooth out before I left for his office. I had to be the best of the best; no mistakes could be afforded at this stage. Or else I am on the verge of losing this contract that we got after references, struggle, and endless proposals.

You can do it.

I know.

Unknowingly, my fingers brushed the ring strapped to the left hand.