The Silent Seduction

9. MAHIRA

The ticking of the clock echoed in my cabin, each second a reminder of the weight that had settled on my shoulders over the past month.

I leaned back in my chair, the dim light from the lamp casting long shadows across the room as I scanned the document in front of me.

My eyes flicked over the figures, the words blurring together as my mind wandered back to the past weeks—weeks of stolen glances and brief exchanges with Arjun.

We had developed a silent rhythm, a dance of proximity and distance that neither of us acknowledged but both of us understood.

It was as if an invisible thread tied us together, pulling us closer with every passing day, yet never close enough to break the tension that simmered between us.

It was maddening, this unspoken connection, a constant undercurrent that neither of us dared to address directly.

But now, something felt off. The unease had been growing steadily over the past few days, a nagging feeling that something was amiss, lurking just beneath the surface of the company’s smooth operation.

I tried to shake it off, to focus on the task at hand, but the sensation only grew stronger, coiling tighter around my thoughts like a snake preparing to strike.

A soft knock on the door pulled me from my reverie. I looked up, and there he was—Arjun, standing in the doorway, his presence commanding the room even in silence.

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was something in his gaze, something darker and more intense than usual, that made my pulse quicken. I quickly pushed the feeling aside, straightening in my chair.

“Come in,” I said, my voice calm, betraying none of the turmoil that his mere presence stirred within me.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. The room seemed to shrink as he approached, the space between us charged with the tension that had been building over the past month.

He walked with purpose, his movements deliberate, but there was something else too—a heaviness in his steps, as if he carried the weight of something far more serious than our usual business matters.

“Mahira,” he began, his voice low and measured, “we have a problem.”

I frowned, the unease that had been gnawing at me all day suddenly flaring into full-blown concern. “What kind of problem?” I asked, leaning forward slightly, my attention now fully on him.

He placed a file on the desk in front of me, his expression grim. “There’s been a significant discrepancy in our financial reports—something that shouldn’t be possible, given how closely we monitor everything.”

I opened the file, my eyes narrowing as I scanned the pages. The numbers didn’t add up. There were gaps, sudden drops in revenue that had no logical explanation.

Transactions that didn’t align with our records, yet were there in black and white. It was as if money had vanished into thin air, without a trace, without a reason.

“How did this happen?” I muttered, more to myself than to Arjun, as I flipped through the pages, my mind racing to find an explanation.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his tone as controlled as ever, but there was a tightness around his mouth that betrayed his own frustration. “I’ve gone over the accounts multiple times, but nothing makes sense. It’s almost like…like someone is deliberately trying to sabotage us.”

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut. Sabotage. The word lingered in the air between us, heavy and ominous, carrying with it all the implications that I had been too afraid to consider.