Page 88 of Carnal Games

“It is the peak of the summer season.”

“Stupid me.” Curious, she asks, “You and I need to catch up. This is the last place I expected to meet you. What happened to studying journalism? Out of everyone in the class, you were the only one with a clear goal set for yourself.”

The fact that she remembers my dream after not staying in touch for so long pleases me. “It hasn’t changed. I’m in journalism school. This job is for my summer internship.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Which department are you in?”

“I’m one of Mr. Singhania’s personal assistants.” Oh shit. Kian’s breakfast. I hastily check the time on my phone, realizing I should be upstairs. He has a ten-minute break, and I’ve already wasted half of it. “Yukta, I’m so happy you’re back, but I gotta run. Meet me here on your lunch break. Okay?”

“Oh, okay. Sure.” Standing up, she shares, “One thing I learned fast is Mr. Singhania doesn’t like his routine disrupted.”

My second day and I’m already botching it epically.

I make a mad dash for the elevators, which eats another two minutes, and once I reach my floor, I almost crash into not one, but two people on my way to the desk. A glance opposite it shows me a smug Arjun, leaning back with his arms crossed.

“You’re late.”

Asshole.

I ignore him and strut toward the gray double doors. Without knocking, I push inside and start profusely apologizing. “I am so, so sorry, Kian. I swear, I didn’t mean to be late. The unlikeliest thing happened to me. I ran into my childhood best friend, who also works here, after three years. I mean, can you believe it? So, of course, we starte—”

A throat clears.

I jerk my gaze up, screeching to a halt upon noticing we aren’t alone. Dash sits across from Kian with his green eyes locked on me, and it’s difficult to tell if he’s surprised to see me here or not.

My breath catches in my throat, heat traveling to my face because both of the men make an impressive and intimidating pair with their cold and impassive expressions. How does anyone function normally having them both in the same room?

While I know Dash is capable of smiling, his bandwidth of emotions is exclusively reserved for his wife. The same can’t be said for the other man since I haven’t seen his stony features resemble anything other than madness or daunting calmness.

Or sizzling heat when I challenge him.

Does he ever smile? When was the last time he did?

“I see, this is your new assistant,” says Dash, rolling his chair to smirk at Kian.

“Temporarily,” retorts Kian.

Ignoring his partner’s scowling face, Dash turns to me. “Iris.”

“Hey, Dash.” Sliding my gaze to Kian, I wince apologetically, “I should’ve knocked.”

That freaking bastard Arjun!

I’m going to send Rosa after this ass.

Shuffling back a step, I mumble, “I’ll come back later.”

“No, it’s fine,” Dash says before standing up and buttoning his suit. “I was just leaving.”

No sooner is he gone, Kian begins to reprimand me coldly. “No one barges inside my office without knocking, nor do they address me by my first name in front of my business partners. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior at my company. Inside this building, I’m your boss, not your neighbor, Miss Mannan. Otherwise, we’ll need to revisit our arrangement. Next time bring my breakfast and coffee on time or don’t bother at all.”

“Yes, Mr. Singhania,” I reply in a small voice without looking at him. “It won’t happen again.”

“Go grab your stuff, we’re leaving for the meeting in five minutes.”