Mumbai never slows down.
Neither does power.

“I don’t tolerate inefficiency.”
That’s what Aarav Malhotra says — billionaire CEO, ruthless strategist, a man who trusts contracts more than people.

Assistants quit.
People fail.
Empires survive.

Until she walks in.

Five minutes early.
Coffee already spilled.
Smile intact.

“You won’t last here.”
He says it like a verdict.

She doesn’t argue.
She just looks up and replies —

“Then I’ll learn.”

And somehow… she does.

She fixes meetings he didn’t know were broken.
She sees mistakes no one dares to point out.
She stays when walking away would be easier.

“Are you saying my numbers are wrong?”
“Yes, sir.”

No fear.
No hesitation.

That’s when the balance shifts.

Because irritation turns into attention.
Attention into dependence.
And dependence into something dangerously close to attachment.

“You work for me.”
He reminds her.

She answers quietly —
“I don’t belong to you.”

There are rules.
There are boardrooms filled with betrayal.
And one clause that forbids everything he’s beginning to feel.

“I don’t do emotions.”
“Good,” she says. “Neither do I — I do honesty.”

But honesty is expensive.
And trust costs even more.

When secrets surface and loyalties are questioned —

“Whose side are you on?”
She meets his eyes.
“The truth’s.”

They don’t touch.
They don’t confess.
Yet every silence feels louder than words.

“You’ll resign within three months.”
He says it like a challenge.

She smiles — steady, unshaken.
“Careful, sir. You don’t know what you’re betting against.”

Grumpy billionaire CEO × Sunshine assistant
Slow burn. High stakes. Modern India.

This isn’t a love story that happens easily.

It happens quietly.
Reluctantly.
And once it begins —

“If you walk away now,” he says, voice low, “I won’t stop you.”
She pauses.
“That’s what scares me,” she replies.

Some rules exist to protect power.

Others exist to be broken.

Start reading.
Because this story doesn’t ask for permission —
it takes its time.