..Out of the Blue ..💙

42.Caught!

The room was dim, sunlight filtering in through the blinds in slits across the dark wooden desk. Monica stood near the window, phone pressed to her ear, her voice low but sharp-edged.

“Yes. I don’t care how deep the hole is, Aaron,” she said calmly. “Just make sure he’s off the radar — permanently. No names. No prints. No ashes, even.”

There was a pause as the voice on the other side replied. Monica’s fingers tapped against the desk once, her jaw set.

“I trust you. But if even a scrap of evidence leaks back... I won’t be half as kind as I was last time.”
Another pause. Then, “Good. And Aaron?” Her voice dropped an octave, slow and commanding. “Burn everything. And disappear for a while. I’ll wire the rest.”

Behind her, the door creaked just slightly. Zoya had been leaning in, clearly having heard enough to know Monica was still very much that woman — cold, in control, terrifyingly intelligent. And god, it was hot.

“Jesus,” Zoya said with a half-smirk, arms crossed as she stepped inside. “Do you have any idea how sexy you sound when you threaten people?”

Monica turned, caught off-guard. “Zoya,” she muttered, reaching to end the call. “You were eavesdropping.”

“No. I was admiring,” Zoya said, sauntering closer. “Honestly, you sounded like the dark queen of a mafia novel. I think I need a cold shower... or you to repeat every word you just said — slower.”

Monica rolled her eyes but failed to hide the amused curve of her lips. “It wasn’t sexy. It was a threat.”

“And that,” Zoya said, placing a hand over her heart dramatically, “is why I’d let you ruin me.”

Monica leaned against the edge of the desk, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

Zoya came closer, slipping between Monica’s legs with a cheeky grin. “And you, Miss Mittal... are dangerously irresistible when you're bossy.”

Monica tilted her head. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. And don’t get me started on the way your voice drops an octave when you say ‘burn everything’. Like... who even are you?”

Monica smirked“You’ll find out if you keep interrupting classified conversations.”

Ha ha ha...

Zoya was reading a magazine

The house had finally settled into a quiet lull. Athena picked up by Grace earlier that morning, leaved once-chaotic space breathing in a strange, rare calm

For the first time in a while, Monica allowed herself a slow, intentional pace.

She stood at the kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, a strand of hair falling loose from her bun as she stirred a fragrant curry. The scent of garlic and cumin wafted through the air, layered with the sharp bite of green chilli and coriander. It was comfort food—nothing lavish, but made with something oddly close to affection.

Zoya padded in quietly, hugging the doorway like she wasn’t sure if she should interrupt. But the sight of Monica, so calm and domestic, tugged at her in ways she couldn’t explain. She leaned on the frame, smirking.

“You’re cooking… again? Is this how you secretly win people over? Through spice and silence?”

Monica glanced sideways. “Athena’s gone. You’re still here. Someone has to feed the little troublemaker.”

Zoya placed a hand over her chest dramatically. “Did you just call me trouble and feedable in the same sentence?

Monica just arched an eyebrow and returned to slicing cucumbers with surgeon-like precision. Zoya moved closer, standing too near just to provoke a reaction.