& Then They Loved (Ampersand Love #3)

2. Collision

2

Collision

Vihaan

H e straightened and strode into the semi-dark room, heading right for the main podium. It was a mid-sized space, filled with people he knew he wanted to retain. Acquisitions inevitably lost some employees who jumped ship because they were resistant to change or unwilling to accept new management.

The people within this room were the ones who were held in high regard by the previous CEO, and whose support was essential for Vihaan to hit the ground running. He usually excelled at retaining talent, and his employees, in return, were loyal to Stork.

He wanted Ethos to be no different.

“Thank you for the introduction, Mr. Verma,” he acknowledged, shaking the older gentleman’s hand before turning towards his audience. His eyes focused on the people closer to him, noting similarly curious and wary expressions on them. One corner of his lips tilted up in a crooked smile .

“I am Vihaan Oberoi, and you’ll be seeing me here regularly for the next little while. I’ll keep this short and simple. In the next five minutes, everyone watching the news will become aware that Ethos is now under Stork management. Let’s make this an incredible year and get Ethos noticed as a major player among the broadcast channels in India. I have no doubt that every person in this room wants to achieve this goal as much as I do. Good quality late night programs, short series and intentional advertising will have my immediate attention. I will be calling a meeting with the team heads shortly so come prepared with your ideas. I’m here to work with you to get us all ahead. Together.”

A moment later, scattered applause filled the room, slowly growing in strength. Vihaan let out the breath he’d been holding. No matter how many times he did this or how confident he seemed, easy acceptance carried with it a satisfaction that he’d come to appreciate.

Life was tough enough. There was no reason for him to hope for things to be challenging, only to experience that sense of accomplishment that people always bragged about. He wasn’t afraid of working hard, but he liked it better when he had to work less.

He spent the next several minutes shaking hands and getting introduced by Mr. Verma to the stream of people who’d come to welcome him to Ethos.

“Your words of endorsement were very kind,” Vihaan said, facing him as the crowds thinned out.

“Not at all. I am glad I get to retire, secure in the knowledge that Ethos is in good hands.”

Vihaan shot him a polite smile, his gaze travelling behind the older man as people streamed out of the room. His sights fell upon the form of a woman whose face was obscured by her open hair, struggling to find a way to leave. She was tall, svelte, with a figure that he was sure had people taking notice of her. Her black skirt hid little of her long, shapely legs, or the perfect peach of her heart-shaped ass. Her hair, the first thing he’d noticed about her, was thick and glossy, and looked like it would put the models in shampoo ads to shame.

Vihaan never fooled around with his female employees— he had no need to. There were plenty of beautiful women he knew outside of work who were interested in nothing more than a good time in bed. Despite what his friends believed, he did not fraternise with people he signed paychecks for.

So really, his curiosity was not because he was overcome with a mad lust for a woman whose face he had yet to see. No, it was something else.

It was the panic in her actions, the desperation to leave the room that had him wondering what was going on. It was as if a silent fire alarm had been triggered that only she could hear.

He saw her straighten when yet another person cut in front of her, blocking her exit. The annoyed jerk of her shoulder, the way her fist clenched, Vihaan could almost picture that she was a second away from stomping her foot. An amused smile graced his face as an ember in his brain crackled to life, poking and prodding him to recognize why that mannerism felt familiar. He brushed away the mild wave of unease that arose in him. It must be the remnant of anxiety from this announcement, he decided, sliding back his cuff to check his watch. It was 4:02 p.m. and he was officially responsible for all operations within Ethos.

He raised his head up once more, his gaze inevitably drawn to her. Mr. Verma must have noticed his preoccupation because he glanced back as well, following Vihaan’s line of sight.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, raising one hand to wave to someone who was ready to leave the room, gesturing for them to stop the lady.

“Come, Vihaan. Let me introduce you to one of our star employees,” Mr. Verma said, leading him towards the now still figure who was whispering furiously to her colleague, shaking her head and pointing out the door. “I was wondering where she was when her team stopped by, but this is good. I’ll make the introductions myself. She has just been promoted to team lead and I think you’ll be pleased with her work.”

“Vera,” he called to the woman, who stiffened at the same time Vihaan did. His steps faltered, but he caught himself before anyone could notice.

It’s not her. Why would she be working at a small channel like this? He chastised himself for immediately thinking of the one person he shouldn’t. She’s not the only Vera in the world. Get a fucking grip, Vihaan.

He came to a stop a few feet away. The lights in the room brightened just as she turned to face him. Dark eyes clashed with his, making his gut twist painfully. For an instant, all the blood rushed out from his brain, drumming instead in his ears, leaving him lightheaded.

He almost wondered if he was hallucinating. He’d skipped his meals today and maybe his empty stomach was playing games with his mind.

He blinked slowly to clear away the blur that had crept into the edges of his vision, until she came into focus once more.

She was still there. She was still looking at him. She was still . . . her.

Fuck. Me. It's. . .

“Vera Talwar, meet Vihaan Oberoi, your new boss. Vera is one of our brightest talents, and. . .”

Somewhere, in the recesses of his brain, he acknowledged that Mr. Verma was still speaking, gesturing towards the woman in front of him, possibly giving him information about her that he should be paying attention to. Instead, his mind was occupied with cataloguing details no boss would ever need of an employee.

Her shoes—simple, black pumps with a pointed heel that looked like it needed a good buff. Her clothes, while serviceable, were rather unremarkable and he noticed the signs of wear on her ruby blouse. The colour of her skirt had seemed fine from a distance but up close, he could see the black was faded along her thighs—a clear indication of use.

His memories, subdued and coloured by distaste, had not done her justice. The pretty girl he had known had matured into a stunning woman. Her cat eyes were set evenly on either side of a sharp nose that looked like it had been drawn on with a pencil. Her unblemished skin and lack of makeup made her seem younger than he knew her to be. Her oval face was clean, her sculpted cheekbones standing high when she pursed her plump lips in displeasure.

What the fuck did she have to be annoyed about? If anyone should be irritated, it was him. She looked far too beautiful for it to be fair.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The few times he’d been unable to stop himself from wondering about her, he’d always pictured her dressed in furs, silks and glittering jewels, on the arm of some rich idiot she’d trapped. He’d have bet money that she was living a hedonistic life of decadence, syphoning funds and luxuries out of foolish men, one after another, the lifestyle eventually ripping her beauty from her and revealing the ugliness within.

She wasn’t supposed to be here, looking perfectly alluring in her plain clothes and her worn shoes, no flashy manicure or gaudy accessories that would allow him to feel vindicated in his belief that she was a greedy and scheming woman.

His keen eyes scanned her face once more, looking for something that would prove that even his most uncharitable thoughts about her had been valid. Plastic surgery perhaps? Excessive fillers? Botched botox? Chin surgery? A golden tooth?

No. Nope. Nothing about her was purchased from a surgeon.

A few strands of her hair flew onto her face and her hand swept up immediately. His attention homed in on the action, noting the lack of jewellery on her wrists when she tucked her hair behind her ear. Her fingers were barren, as was her neck. No ring or black-beaded necklace declaring her marital status. Nothing to suggest that she was taken, or in a long-term relationship.

The knot in his gut loosened, and immediately he hated himself for the inkling of relief he’d felt at the idea that she was unattached. He told himself he didn’t care and set his mouth in a firm and severe line, lest any semblance of a smile slip out. He wanted her to be single only because no man deserved to be taken advantage of, he decided ungraciously.

Noticing that neither Vihaan nor Vera had spoken for several seconds, Mr. Verma shifted uncomfortably, placing a gentle hand on Vera’s shoulder.

Had Vihaan’s entire focus not been on her, he wouldn’t have seen her startle lightly, as if she too had been jostled out of her memories.

Her crimson lips parted, distracting him. In the same husky voice he’d once been obsessed with, that had formed the fantasies of his youth but had since become the sound that tortured him in the silence of the night, she wished him, “Welcome to Ethos, Mr. Oberoi.”

But he heard the words she hadn’t said out loud.

I hate you, Vihaan Oberoi.