SWARAGINI (Her Impossible Boss)

Prologue
And so here she was. Barely in Kolkata for five seconds and fixed up with a job for just the sort of pinstripe-suited money-man that she had always hated.

The penthouse apartment had its own private lift and she was discharged into a masssive carpeted landing. Disoriented she wondered whether she was actually in the apartment. And if so where was the dreade Sanskar Maheshwari?

Miss Ragini I take it?

The sound of his voice shocked her into spinning round red-faced and feeling as guilty as if he had caught her stealing the family silver.

For a few timeless seconds Ragini stared. Every cosy image she had of Sanskar Maheshwari was shattered i an instant. This was six foot two inches of hard-packed alpha make. Suffocatingly masculine.