Treacherous Souls

XXII. "Don't call me 'sir'."

Third Person

The cold and firm voice of her husband snapped Mishka out of her thoughts. She looked around her to see she was in her husband's office, waiting for him to grant her the permission to enter inside his expensive and classy cabin.

After consulting with her team, Mishka fixed up a meeting with Dhruv the next day, and was now standing in front of the opaque door with a few files in her hand.

She opened the door and stepped inside, noticing the presence of Mahi, his Personal Assistant, Maya, who was his Public Relations' manager and Vivaan, the manager of Human Resources' department.

"The meeting is dismissed." Dhruv ordered, looking at his wife who was decked up in a black turtleneck top and a pair of brown pants, with her black blazer hanging around her shoulders. Her black handbag was dangling from her arms and the minimal makeup she wore made her look enthralling. Her long, dark brown hair was cascading down her back in soft waves, and her lips looked plump and extremely kissable. Her eyes, those big, honey-coloured eyes Dhruv had grown fond of, were busy in observing his office and his employees who still hadn't gone to their own workplaces, being too entranced by Mishka Rajput's undeniable beauty.

Mishka was not only beautiful, but she was also kind, compassionate and understanding, making her even more lovable than she already was.

"Mr. Shastri, I suggest you stop looking at my wife and do your own business. I don't pay you to gawk at my wife." Dhruv's firm voice, filled with possessiveness and jealousy, made Mishka quite amused. She raised her brows at him, but didn't say anything, knowing that they had to keep up the image of being the perfect couple.

"Oh, sorry." Vivaan cleared his throat and went out of the office with Mahi and Maya following behind, softly greeting Mishka when they passed by her.

Shutting of the door was followed by utter, pin drop silence before Dhruv cleared his throat and pointed at the visitors' chair. Mishka made a beeline towards the chair after clearing her throat, her heels clicking loudly on the marble floorboard.

"So, are the designs ready?" Dhruv asked, clasping his palms together and resting his elbows on the sleek, black, glass table in front of him.

"They are, sir."

He shifted around in his chair, quite uncomfortable when his own wife called him 'sir', but it was, of course, his fault. Neither he nor she had forgotten the rude words he had hurled at her the last time she had stepped inside his office.

"Don't call me 'sir'."

"But why, sir? Weren't you the one who told me to call you 'sir' because you are way out of my league?" She mocked him, with a little smirk plastered on her face.

"We are equals, aren't we, Mishka? So, you don't have to call me that."

"Now we are equals, huh? Oh, how the tables have turned." She smirked, then continued,"Anyways, let's proceed with the designs, shall we?"

"We shall."

***

Aastha had known that she would face extra care and attention now that everyone knew she was Manav Rajput's wife, but she had completely forgotten that her safety would be jeopardized too.