By Friday evening, Navya realized one undeniable truth.

The forty-first floor was easier than Aarav Malhotra’s silence.

The entire day had been strangely quiet.

No sharp remarks.
No unexpected evaluations.
No “Don’t overstep” warnings.

Just work.

Which was somehow worse.

At 6:12 p.m., his cabin door opened.

“Navya.”

She looked up immediately.

“Yes, sir.”

“Cancel tomorrow’s 10 a.m. meeting.”

“It’s with the Singapore investors.”

“I’m aware.”

“Should I reschedule?”

“No.”

She blinked.

He never canceled high-profile meetings without reason.

“Is everything alright?”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“That’s not a required concern.”

She nodded.

“Understood.”

He paused.

Then added, “You’ll accompany me tomorrow evening.”

Her fingers froze over the keyboard.

“I’m sorry?”

“Family dinner.”

The words landed unexpectedly.

Her brows knit slightly.

“Sir, I don’t believe assistants usually attend—”

“They don’t.”

“Then—?”

He stepped closer to her desk.

“You will.”

Silence.

She searched his face for sarcasm.

Found none.

“May I ask why?”

He exhaled once.

“My mother believes I don’t have stability in my life.”

Navya didn’t respond.

“She believes the solution is marriage.”

Ah.

Now it made sense.

“I assume she’s arranged something.”

“She always does.”

“And you want…?”

“You will attend as my assistant.”

Her stomach tightened slightly.

“As…?”

“As proof that my life is structured. Organized. Under control.”

The irony almost made her smile.

“But sir,” she said carefully, “that won’t stop marriage discussions.”

“It will delay them.”

She studied him quietly.

This wasn’t about control.

This was avoidance.

And for the first time — he didn’t look intimidating.

He looked cornered.

“Do I have a choice?” she asked softly.

“You’re free to refuse.”

But his tone didn’t match the sentence.

She tilted her head slightly.

“Will I be paid overtime?”

His eyes narrowed faintly.

“You’re negotiating?”

“I’m clarifying.”

A beat.

“Yes.”

She nodded once.

“Then I’ll be ready.”

Saturday — 7:30 p.m.

Malhotra Mansion did not look like a home.

It looked like legacy carved in marble.

Navya stood near the entrance in a simple midnight blue saree. Elegant. Minimal jewelry. Hair tied neatly.

She wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

But she wasn’t going to embarrass herself either.

A black car pulled into the driveway.

Aarav stepped out.

For a brief second — he didn’t speak.

She looked… different.

Softer.

Still composed.

But not corporate.

“You’re late,” she said calmly.

“I’m on time.”

“It’s 7:32.”

His lips almost twitched.

“Don’t start.”

They entered together.

Inside, chandeliers glowed over polished floors.

Voices echoed from the dining hall.

And then —

“Aarav.”

A graceful woman in silk turned toward them.

Mrs. Meera Malhotra.

Sharp eyes. Controlled smile.

“And you brought someone.”

Navya folded her hands respectfully.

“Good evening, ma’am. I’m Navya Kulkarni. Mr. Malhotra’s assistant.”

A flicker of assessment crossed Meera’s face.

“Assistant?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Aarav spoke evenly.

“She manages my schedule and operations.”

His mother studied them both.

“Interesting.”

They moved to the dining table.

Two other guests were already seated.

One of them — a poised woman in a designer gown — looked directly at Aarav.

“Aarav,” she smiled. “It’s been months.”

Ah.

There it was.

The arranged candidate.

Navya felt the air shift.

“This is Rhea Kapoor,” Meera said smoothly. “Her family owns Kapoor Industries.”

Rhea’s gaze flickered briefly toward Navya.

“And you are?”

“Navya. His assistant.”

Rhea’s smile thinned almost invisibly.

“How… dedicated.”

Dinner began.

Conversation flowed between business families.

Mergers. Expansion. Social events.

Navya stayed quiet.

Until —

“Aarav works too much,” Rhea said lightly. “He needs someone who balances him.”

Navya focused on her plate.

Meera added smoothly, “Yes. Someone who understands his world.”

Rhea leaned forward.

“Do you even take days off, Aarav?”

“I don’t see the necessity.”

“See?” Rhea laughed softly. “That’s unhealthy.”

Navya finally spoke — politely.

“Mr. Malhotra’s discipline is why his company leads the market.”

The table went quiet.

Aarav looked at her.

Rhea raised a brow.

“Oh? You seem very certain.”

“I work closely with him.”

Rhea smiled.

“I’m sure you do.”

The implication was subtle.

But not invisible.

Navya held her composure.

“I meant professionally.”

Aarav’s jaw tightened slightly.

His mother observed everything.

“Navya,” Meera said smoothly, “how long have you been working with my son?”

“Three days.”

A pause.

“Three?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rhea laughed softly.

“Three days and already defending him?”

Navya met her gaze calmly.

“Three days is enough to recognize competence.”

The tension thickened.

Aarav placed his glass down deliberately.

“That’s enough.”

Silence.

His tone wasn’t loud.

But it was final.

Dinner resumed awkwardly.

Later, in the hallway —

Rhea approached Aarav privately.

Navya stayed at a respectful distance.

But she saw the body language.

Close. Familiar. Comfortable.

Something unfamiliar tightened in her chest.

She immediately suppressed it.

This is none of your concern.

Aarav returned moments later.

“Car’s ready,” he said shortly.

They left.

In the Car

The silence was heavier than usual.

“You handled yourself well,” he said finally.

“I wasn’t aware I was being evaluated.”

“You always are.”

She looked out the window.

“Is she the one your mother wants you to marry?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Is it?”

He glanced at her.

“You seem unusually interested.”

She met his gaze.

“I’m not interested.”

“Then why ask?”

“Because if you get married, I’ll need to adjust scheduling priorities.”

That answer was professional.

Too professional.

He looked away first.

“Rhea and I are not compatible.”

“Your mother disagrees.”

“My mother prioritizes alliances.”

“And you?”

“I prioritize control.”

A beat.

“And do you control this?” she asked quietly.

He didn’t answer.

Because tonight had unsettled him more than expected.

When Rhea had placed her hand lightly on his arm —

It hadn’t affected him.

But when Navya had defended him at the table —

Something had.

Outside Her Apartment

The car stopped.

She unbuckled.

“Thank you for accompanying me,” he said.

“You needed damage control.”

“Yes.”

She paused before stepping out.

“Sir.”

“What.”

“You don’t need to prove control to anyone.”

His expression hardened slightly.

“You don’t understand my family.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted softly. “But I understand pressure.”

He studied her.

“For someone who’s been here three days, you speak with confidence.”

“I observe.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Only if you’re hiding something.”

Their eyes locked again.

The air between them felt charged.

Unspoken.

Almost personal.

He looked away first.

“Good night, Navya.”

“Good night, sir.”

She stepped out.

As the car drove away, neither of them realized the same thought echoed quietly in their minds.

This was no longer just professional.

End of Chapter 3