The Sisodia heirs stood unrivaled in control and possession, their world a testament to their might. To onlookers, their lives were a manifestation of perfection, with their family and surname commanding respect, prestige, and reputation.
Yet, behi...
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It had been a week since Shirina joined Sisodia Industries, and her experience had been anything but smooth.
The chaos and challenges were exactly what she had anticipated. Her biggest hurdle, though, was her boss, Abhyudit Sisodia—the man she had aptly nicknamed 'Fireball'.
From overwhelming her with tasks to issuing orders and deadlines, he seemed determined to make her job as difficult as possible. His intimidating glares and warning remarks only added to the tension.
Perhaps, she had concluded, he suffered from some sort of personality disorder, making it a daring to work with him. It was constant struggle to remain cautious and tolerant.
Shirina hadn't bothered to make friends in the office, nor was she interested. However, her brief interactions with some of the colleagues had revealed a startling fact — no one in her position had lasted more than a month.
The realization filled her with a sense of disappointment. Not for the company, but for herself.
At present, she was standing before Abhyudit, placing his coffee and schedule on the table, patiently waiting for his dismissal.
"We will be leaving for the meeting in two hours. Take the important documents, and make the necessary preparations," he announces, making her look up at him hesitantly.
"We? But you didn't tell me this before." The words escape her before she could process them.
"Oh, I apologize for not reporting to you beforehand," Abhyudit replies, his expression turning animated. He leans back in his chair, asking, "By the way, do you mind reminding me of your position in this office?"
Shirina's gaze drops to the floor, while she mentally scolds herself for speaking without thinking.
Of course, this was part of her job.
"I am your personal assistant." Her response was laced with a hint of embarrassment.
After a subtle pause, she whispers, loud enough for him to hear, "I am sorry, sir."
"I have heard this sentence from you thirteen times since last week. I suggest you add it as a hobby." Abhyudit's sarcastic comment cuts through the air, and her anger simmers just below the surface.
She stands there silently, fighting the urge to retaliate. Only if she could dare.
"If you are done cursing me in your mind, you can leave to accomplish the tasks," he adds, and Shirina's head snaps towards him, disbelief etched on her face. She shakes her head in a mixture of denial and affirmation before excusing herself.
