The Silent Seduction

7. ARJUN

The brief touch of her hand against mine was enough to send a ripple through my entire body. It was a fleeting moment, the kind that could be dismissed as an accident, but there was nothing accidental about it.

I could feel the tension crackle in the air between us, sharp and undeniable. As Mahira stepped out of the elevator, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

My eyes followed her as she walked toward her cabin. The sway of her hips, the deliberate pace in her steps, the way her hair brushed against her back—it all seemed to tug at something deep within me.

I straightened my tie, trying to suppress the sudden surge of heat that flared in my chest.

I shouldn't be feeling this way. I knew that. She was the boss's daughter, soon-to-be CEO, and I was just the secretary—a damn good one, but a secretary nonetheless.

But the intensity of my thoughts was getting harder to ignore. The memory of her scent—something floral, with a hint of something darker—lingered in the air, wrapping around me like a shackle I couldn’t escape.

As I followed her into her cabin, the usual routine felt different. There was an edge to everything, like walking on a razor’s edge, knowing one wrong step could send us both spiraling into something uncontrollable.

I closed the door behind me, the sound of it shutting a stark reminder of the isolation we now shared within these four walls.

She didn’t say anything at first, just moved around her desk, flipping through papers, tapping her pen, pretending to be absorbed in the task at hand.

But I could see it in her eyes—the way they darted to me when she thought I wasn’t looking, the slight tremor in her fingers. She felt it too, didn’t she? This pull, this… whatever it was between us.

“Arjun,” she finally spoke, her voice steady but lacking its usual sharpness. “Did you bring the reports from yesterday?”

“Yes,” I replied, reaching into my bag to retrieve the files. My fingers brushed against the leather of my bag, but my mind was still on that brief touch in the elevator, how her skin felt against mine. I handed her the reports, careful not to let our fingers touch again.

I wasn’t sure I could handle it if they did.

As she flipped through the pages, I let my gaze roam over her features. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, her lips pursed in that way they always did when she was deep in thought.

I had memorized these small details over time, not because it was necessary for my job, but because I couldn’t help it. It was an involuntary response, like breathing.

The silence between us was thick, almost suffocating. I needed something to break it, something to pull me out of the spiral of thoughts that was rapidly tightening around me.

“Mahira,” I began, and her eyes flicked up to meet mine, sharp and questioning. I was about to say something, anything, when the door to her cabin swung open, and Neha walked in.

Neha’s presence was like a splash of cold water, jarring and unwelcome. But I masked my annoyance with a polite smile.

She greeted Mahira with her usual cheerfulness, completely oblivious to the charged atmosphere she had just walked into.

“Morning, Mahira! Morning, Arjun!” Neha said, flashing a bright smile as she placed a folder on Mahira’s desk. “I just need your signature on these.”

Mahira nodded, but I could see the slight crease between her brows, the way her eyes darted toward me for a fraction of a second before she quickly looked away.