Tangled Alliances: Love in Legal Briefs (On hold)

Chapter - 8

Adrith's POV

Mukesh Mehra was a man who wore his vileness like a badge of honor. The kind of man who didn't bother to mask his lecherous nature, always surrounded by sycophants and women who fit his specific, objectifying tastes. Today was no exception; his entourage included two young secretaries, both fitting his preferred mold—attractive, with an air of vulnerability that he undoubtedly found appealing.

"Good morning, Rathore," he greeted, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Morning, Mehra," I replied, keeping my tone neutral. As I took my seat, I couldn't help but notice Vedika standing beside me, momentarily at a loss for where to position herself. Without a second thought, I pulled out a chair for her. It wasn't about chivalry—I've never been one for empty gestures—but rather a habit born of respect. In the cutthroat world of business, a small act of decency often stood out in stark contrast to the pervasive toxicity.

Vedika sat down gracefully, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. There was a flicker of surprise in her expression, quickly masked by her usual composed demeanor. It was a small, almost imperceptible reaction, but it didn't escape my notice. It reminded me, for a split second, of the complexities beneath her calm exterior—a blend of strength and vulnerability that was as captivating as it was disarming.

Mehra's eyes shifted to Vedika, assessing her with a look that made my skin crawl. "And?" he questioned, a predatory gleam in his gaze. The way he looked at her, like a commodity, made my blood boil. He had no right, not to her or to anyone.

The moment felt charged, like the air before a storm. I could feel the control slipping, the iron grip I maintained on my emotions loosening. Mehra's disrespect was infuriating, but it was the realization of what he saw in Vedika that struck a chord. She was more than just a woman; she was a force, a presence that demanded attention and respect. She wasn't someone to be ogled at or dismissed.

In that instant, I felt a surge of protective instinct, something I rarely experienced. Vedika was a formidable woman, the kind that could bring men to their knees—not because of her beauty alone, but because of her fierce intelligence and unwavering resolve. She was the type of woman who could hold her own in any room, yet Mehra's gaze reduced her to a mere object of desire. It was an affront not only to her but to the very essence of what she represented.

"Vedika Malhotra," I said, my voice steady, cutting through the tension. "My assistant."

Mehra's eyes flickered with something—lust. He gave a slow, condescending nod, clearly unbothered by my attempt to assert boundaries. "Ah, Vedika," he drawled, as if her name was something "Pretty name for a pretty woman."

The room felt stifling, the air thick with unspoken tension. I clenched my fists under the table, fighting the urge to say something more, something that would undoubtedly escalate the situation. 

Mehra's words dripped with sarcasm, but his eyes never left Vedika, lingering on her with a shamelessness that made my skin crawl. It was a look I'd seen before, in men who thought they owned the world and everyone in it. The kind of men who viewed women as trophies or conquests, not as equals.

"So what brings you here, Rathore? Trouble in paradise or something else?" he sneered, his voice laced with false camaraderie. The insinuation was clear—he was probing for weakness, trying to find a crack in my armor.

I leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to maintain a relaxed posture. "Not that I need much of your help, Mehra," I began, my tone casual, "but I heard someone is fighting a case against you." I let the statement hang in the air, watching for his reaction.

A flicker of something—unease, perhaps—crossed his face. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but it was there. He quickly masked it with a smug grin, dismissing his secretaries with a wave. As they left, the room felt heavier, the air thick with the weight of unspoken truths.