Navya’s POV

By Wednesday, things felt… normal again.

If “normal” meant:
• Avoiding eye contact longer than necessary
• Pretending that wrist moment didn’t exist
• And maintaining strict professionalism

Navya was updating the quarterly presentation when the elevator doors opened.

A man stepped out.

Tall. Confident. Charismatic in a way that didn’t require silence to command attention.

He wasn’t from their office.

She knew that instantly.

He walked straight toward her desk.

“Hi,” he smiled easily. “I’m Kabir Mehta. External strategy consultant.”

She stood politely.

“Navya Kulkarni. Assistant to Mr. Malhotra.”

His smile widened.

“Ah. The famous assistant.”

Her brows knit slightly.

“Famous?”

“Yes. I heard you handled the audit interrogation like a lawyer.”

She blinked.

News traveled fast here.

“I just answered questions.”

“Still impressive.”

He leaned casually against her desk.

Too casually.

“I was hoping you could brief me before my meeting with Aarav.”

The way he said Aarav — informal — was intentional.

“Of course,” she replied professionally. “Please have a seat.”

She didn’t notice the cabin door opening behind her.

But Aarav did.

And he noticed everything.

Aarav’s POV

Kabir Mehta.

Charming. Calculated. Too comfortable in unfamiliar spaces.

Aarav stepped out of his cabin just as Kabir leaned against Navya’s desk.

Too close.

Too relaxed.

Navya was explaining something on her screen.

Focused.

Unaware of how Kabir’s attention lingered longer than necessary.

Aarav’s jaw tightened slightly.

He walked toward them.

“Kabir.”

Kabir turned smoothly.

“Aarav! Good to see you.”

They shook hands.

Firm. Professional.

But the undertone was territorial.

“I see you’ve met my assistant,” Aarav said calmly.

Kabir smiled.

“Yes. She’s very efficient.”

“I’m aware.”

Navya glanced between them.

The temperature in the air felt… different.

Kabir looked back at her.

“She was just briefing me. I must say, you’ve hired well.”

Aarav’s gaze shifted to her briefly.

“I don’t hire carelessly.”

The emphasis wasn’t accidental.

Kabir laughed lightly.

“Relax. I’m not stealing her.”

Aarav’s expression didn’t change.

“She’s not transferable.”

Navya almost coughed.

What?

Kabir’s smile sharpened slightly.

“Possessive, aren’t we?”

Silence.

Aarav’s voice lowered just enough.

“I value structure.”

Kabir understood the subtext.

And enjoyed pushing it.

“Navya,” Kabir said casually, “do you ever take lunch breaks? Or does he run you on back-to-back schedules?”

She smiled politely.

“I manage my time.”

“Impressive. Maybe you could manage mine too. I could use discipline.”

Aarav’s gaze darkened almost imperceptibly.

“That won’t be necessary.”

The words were calm.

But final.

Navya’s POV

The meeting ended forty minutes later.

Kabir walked out with his usual charm intact.

Before stepping into the elevator, he paused at her desk again.

“Coffee sometime?” he asked casually.

She blinked.

“Professional discussion?”

“Depends,” he smiled.

Before she could respond —

“That won’t be required.”

Aarav’s voice came from behind her.

Kabir turned slowly.

“Aarav, you don’t control her schedule outside office hours.”

A pause.

Aarav’s expression remained unreadable.

“I control what affects my operations.”

Kabir smirked faintly.

“I’m sure she can decide what affects her.”

The silence that followed felt sharp.

Navya stepped in gently.

“Thank you, Mr. Mehta. I’ll let you know if I require clarification on strategy.”

Professional. Neutral. Safe.

Kabir studied her for a second.

Then smiled.

“I’ll be waiting.”

And he left.

The moment the elevator doors shut —

The air shifted.

Navya slowly turned toward Aarav.

He was standing too still.

“You didn’t need to intervene,” she said calmly.

“I wasn’t intervening.”

“It sounded like it.”

He stepped closer.

“It sounded like someone forgetting professional boundaries.”

Her brows lifted slightly.

“Mine?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t accept the invitation.”

“You didn’t reject it either.”

The accusation was subtle.

But clear.

Navya crossed her arms lightly.

“With respect, sir, my social interactions aren’t company property.”

A flicker crossed his eyes.

“I don’t appreciate distractions within my workspace.”

“I was working.”

“He wasn’t.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Yes.”

The honesty slipped before he could measure it.

Silence.

They both felt it.

The line.

The thing they weren’t naming.

Aarav’s POV

Why did it bother him?

Kabir wasn’t incompetent.

He wasn’t a threat professionally.

But watching him lean against her desk —

Watching her smile politely —

Something primal tightened in his chest.

He didn’t like it.

Didn’t recognize it.

And definitely didn’t want to examine it.

“You’re here to focus,” he said evenly.

“I am focused.”

“Then behave like it.”

Her eyes sharpened slightly.

“I always do.”

He stepped closer again.

Too close.

“You seem unusually defensive.”

“Because you’re unusually authoritative about something irrelevant.”

The tension snapped tighter.

“Is it irrelevant?”

“Yes.”

A pause.

Unless it isn’t.

He held her gaze.

“Do you want to have coffee with him?”

The question landed heavy.

She wasn’t expecting it.

“Why does that matter?”

“Answer it.”

Her heart thudded unexpectedly.

“I don’t mix work with personal life.”

A beat.

“Good.”

The word came too quickly.

She noticed.

“So it does matter.”

He didn’t respond.

Because yes.

It did.

More than it should.

Navya’s POV

She took a slow breath.

“This conversation feels inappropriate.”

“Why?”

“Because it sounds like you’re asking as more than my employer.”

The room went still.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t deny it immediately.

And that silence spoke louder than words.

Her pulse quickened.

“You warned me about making this personal,” she said softly.

“Yes.”

“And yet…”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

He did.

“And yet I don’t like him near you.”

The confession wasn’t loud.

But it was undeniable.

Her breath caught.

The air felt charged.

Unstable.

“That’s not professional,” she whispered.

“I’m aware.”

Silence stretched.

The kind that changes dynamics.

She stepped back first.

“I won’t entertain him,” she said quietly.

He looked at her.

“Because I asked?”

She shook her head slightly.

“Because I don’t want to.”

Something inside him shifted again.

Not victory.

Not control.

Something warmer.

More dangerous.

Later That Night

Navya sat alone at her desk, replaying the conversation.

He doesn’t like him near you.

That wasn’t authority.

That was jealousy.

And the realization made her stomach flutter in a way she didn’t approve of.

Inside his cabin, Aarav stood near the window again.

Looking at the city.

He didn’t like Kabir’s smile.

He didn’t like how close he stood.

He didn’t like the thought of Navya laughing with someone else.

And that was the problem.

Because jealousy meant attachment.

And attachment meant vulnerability.

And vulnerability meant loss.

He had built his life avoiding exactly that.

As she packed her bag, the elevator doors opened again.

Kabir stepped out briefly.

Forgotten file in hand.

He caught her eye.

“Still here?” he smiled.

Before she could answer —

Aarav stepped out of his cabin.

His gaze moved from Kabir.

To Navya.

Back to Kabir.

Controlled.

Cold.

Calculated.

“Your file,” Aarav said evenly.

Kabir took it.

Smirked slightly.

“See you tomorrow, Navya.”

A pause.

Aarav spoke without looking at her.

“You won’t.”

Kabir’s smile faded slightly.

“Excuse me?”

“Your contract ends Friday.”

Silence.

Kabir blinked once.

“That wasn’t discussed.”

“It is now.”

The message was clear.

Not shouted.

Not dramatic.

But decisive.

Kabir understood.

He looked at Navya one last time.

Then left.

The elevator doors closed.

Navya slowly turned.

“You ended his contract.”

“He wasn’t aligned with company culture.”

Her brows rose.

“In two hours?”

“I observe quickly.”

She stared at him.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re distracted.”

The words lingered.

She walked toward the elevator.

He followed instinctively.

“Navya.”

She turned.

“Yes?”

His voice lowered.

“Don’t test how far I’m willing to go.”

Her heart skipped.

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It’s a warning.”

“For whom?”

Silence.

For myself.

He didn’t say it.

But they both felt it.

The elevator doors closed between them.

And for the first time —

The jealousy wasn’t subtle anymore.

End of Chapter 5