Page 87 of Carnal Games

The first day was lackluster but grueling. I spent the entire day learning the ropes of my assistant gig at my new desk, which was previously Farah’s. It has my nameplate on it now. How cool is that? I don’t even have that atSahara Times.

Not that Arjun let me bask in the glow of that for longer than a minute before he started firing a lengthy list of all my administrative and supportive tasks. The gist of which is that I’ll handle everything related to Kian’s business in India, while Arjun handles the overseas. From his schedule, bringing him coffee and food, answering communication that doesn’t require his immediate attention, coordinating meetings, as well as preparing presentations and reports.

I won’t lie, I felt overwhelmed with all the information Arjun dumped on me. Anytime I’d ask a question or request him to repeat something since I was writing notes, he’d look at me like I was stupid.

If anyone’s going to be happiest if I fuck up, it’d be him.

Too bad I won’t give him the opportunity.

Except, luck isn’t on my side because when I enter the building, I see the two people who hate me the most conversing with each other.

Arjun and the mean receptionist, Rhea.

As I get closer, I observe their body language. They’re both leaning over the desk. Him with his arms folded on the surface while she has her chin propped on her palm, smiling and biting her lip. He says something that makes her throw her head back and laugh. My eyes widen, catching him grazing her palm and cupping it.

Clarity comes when I discover the real reason for his animosity toward me.

He’s dating Rhea, who must’ve tattled to him about our interaction.

Ahh crap! No way I’m ever winning him over.

I try to pass by them unnoticed, but as if her mean girl radar is on, Rhea’s beady eyes shoot my way, causing Arjun to follow suit. She utters something low in his ear that has him snickering. I walk faster until I’m safely inside the elevator.

Stepping on the floor below Kian’s office, I smile and greet colleagues I run into on my way to the staff kitchen. I need to grab Kian’s breakfast from the fridge, prepared and delivered by an online food delivery company.

While I haven’t seen him since yesterday, I did receive a text from him. I had almost dropped my phone when I saw the notification. He must’ve gotten my number from the employee forms I had to fill out.

He has a meeting across town at nine a.m. that I am to accompany him to.

I keep my fingers crossed that we drive there together.

I’m shivering at the possibility of sitting in such close proximity to him.

Opening the fridge, I see his packed breakfast as well as lunch in a container with his name on it on a Post-it. Curious, I lift the lid of the first box, and there’s a healthy salad inside with dressing. My nose wrinkles at the bland food, wondering if he eats this every day. I don’t bother checking his lunch, assuming it’ll be something just as boring.

I’m about to back away when a stunned voice startles me.

“Iris? Oh my god! Is that you?”

My head bumps against the top of the fridge as I turn around too quickly.

“Wow! It is you,” the same quirky voice says with a sigh.

“Yukta?” I exclaim, blinking several times to make sure I’m not hallucinating my childhood best friend, whom I haven’t seen in three years after she moved abroad, causing us to drift apart for many reasons. It was a sad acceptance because we were thick as thieves throughout high school.

What is she doing here?

“Hi, I can’t believe this.” She laughs jovially.

While I’m still processing with my mouth agape, she bridges the gap and bear-hugs me, almost lifting me off the ground in her excitement.

“This is such a pleasant surprise.” Pulling back, she grips my shoulders and gazes down at me. “Do you work here too? Please say yes.”

Dressed in a black pair of slacks that match the color of her shoulder-length curly hair and a sleeveless white button-down shirt, she looks grown-up like a hotshot manager but with the same mischievousness in her eyes from when we were younger.And still very much a yapper, because she hasn’t let me get a word in edgewise.

Once I realize she’s real, I’m grinning back and squeezing her hands. “Yes. It’s my second day. When did you come back to India? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I planned to, but I lost everyone’s number, dude,” she replies, tugging me to sit around the round table. “I moved back to India six months ago to start a job here. Then I got busy with all the unpacking, finding a place, settling in, and the weather. Jeez, I forgot just how hot it can get here.”

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