TRISHA
With each passing day, I found myself more drawn towards Krish despite my attempts to remain professional.
There was so much about this man that drew me in and excited me.
He had awakened in me hopes and emotions I’d long kept dormant.
In my life, I’d always prioritised my career over relationships.
Even with Sanjay, my ex-fiancée, it was never like this.
There were no secret glances, playful banter, or electrifying touches.
But with Krish, every interaction left me yearning for more.
As a GLEN agent, I knew I should keep my distance. Personal ties were dangerous in this world of covert missions. But when Krish was near, my professional instincts faltered. Being around him awakened my feminine side that craved affection. His affection.
Our recent lighthearted moments together had shown me a glimpse of something beautiful developing between us. He had a way of making me feel special in a way no one else ever had. And in his absence, I kept replaying his flirtatious words and stolen glances in my mind.
I had no doubt Krish, too, felt this undeniable connection between us.
His heart also fluttered every time our hands accidentally touched.
With Krish, I felt a sense of possibility that both thrilled and terrified me.
I knew giving in to my feelings was risky.
Yet the thought of denying this rare chance at love pained me too.
For now, I could only take each moment as it came, while my heart continued to wish for more.
I was in the intelligence room, focusing on the case files for an upcoming mission, when Krish walked in. And as usual, whenever he was around, I found it hard to focus anywhere else.
“Hey there,” Krish greeted casually, pulling up a chair beside me. “Prepping for the Drug Lord case?”
I nodded, trying to remain professional even as my pulse quickened being so close to him.
“I was thinking...” Krish continued, his tone thoughtful. “For a case this big, we should celebrate after cracking it. Maybe over dinner?” His gaze held a tentative hopefulness.
“Why are you so fixated on the dinner thing?” I inquired, locking eyes with him.
“Wrong question,” he smirked, leaning in closer.
“I’m not fixated on just the dinner thing, but a date with you, over dinner.
” Krish winked at me before adding, “I’ve even decided what I’m going to wear for our dinner date.
How about Bermuda shorts, a linen button-up shirt, flip flops, and a straw hat? Does that tempt you?”
Gosh, he never missed a chance to flirt.
“Are we heading to a beach location for dinner?”
“That sounds like fun, doesn’t it? I love beaches. What about you? Are you a beach person or do you prefer hill stations?”
Unsure how to respond, I lightly bumped his shoulder with mine. “Neither. And cracking the case comes first, Director,” I replied in a playfully evasive tone.
Krish sighed.
“You’re right, duty calls.” He was about to get up but then paused, his gaze danced mischievously as he looked at me again. “But just so you know, I don’t give up so easily on things I really want.”
My cheeks flushed at the insinuation. Our gaze lingered longer than needed. This was the first time I caught a whiff of his aftershave, or was it his musky, woodsy cologne?
“Just a dinner date, Agent Trisha,” he insisted. “I have only two days here before I fly back to Austria.”
His eyes pleaded with me to say yes, and then he left. I watched him saunter away, while trying to keep my heart in check. Despite my better instincts, I was looking forward to what might unfold next. Would I continue to decline his request for a dinner date, or would he succeed in convincing me?
The Next Morning…
Krish was in the middle of his morning workout routine at the GLEN gym facility. Clad in a sleeveless vest that highlighted his muscular arms and track pants, he was engrossed in a set of pushups. As he rhythmically lowered and raised his body, a light sheen of sweat glistened on his skin.
Unbeknownst to him, I walked into the gym at that very moment and paused in my tracks, momentarily distracted by the sight of Krish’s athletic form. His focused expression as he trained, the flex of his arm muscles with each pushup—it all made my heart involuntarily flutter.
“Is that an expression of admiration on your face?” Krish inquired, glancing at me and breaking into a grin.
“83...84...85,” he counted his pushups aloud in his breathy voice.
“You observe too much,” I muttered, moving further ahead.
“Do I?” he chuckled. “Then why are you here? To join me for a workout, Agent Trisha?” he asked with a playful glint in his eyes.
“Perhaps,” I replied coyly.
“Quit giving me evasive answers. I know you’re mesmerised watching me do the pushups.”
I laughed. “Oh, please, Director. I’ve seen agents doing pushups with weights on their backs. That’s the kind of scene that captures my attention. What you’re doing is just the basics.”
Krish stopped doing the pushups.
“You are talking to the Director, Agent. I’ve done more than just basics. Don’t underestimate me. Back in Austria, during my training, I’ve shouldered more weight during pushups than you can ever imagine.”
“Really?” I asked, walking over, and before Krish could react, I sat lightly on his back as he remained in his pushup position.
“Is 55 kg enough of a challenge for you to do ten more pushups like this, Director?” I dared.
Krish chuckled at my bold move, a thrill sparking in his eyes, visible in the large wall mirror before us. “Or is that all you’ve got?”
I crossed my legs and perched on his back, applying my full weight.
To my surprise, Krish continued with his pushups.
Honestly, I didn’t expect him to. I’d settled on his back, contributing just sufficient weight to transform his workout into a playful challenge.
On the tenth pushup, Krish pretended to buckle under my weight, collapsing dramatically to the floor.
I yelped in surprise as I fell with him, landing on his chest as he rolled over.
We both continued to laugh until I realised that he had stopped laughing.
Krish’s eyes flitted to my lips, his heart racing at our sudden closeness.
For a fleeting moment, our faces were inches apart, and the air between us crackled with possibility.
Just as I was about to close my eyes, giving in to the unknown, the distinct sound of footsteps reached us from the gym door.
And just like that, our spell was broken.
We had been caught in that compromising position, in the vicinity of GLEN’s building, by none other than the President of this organisation—Mr. Ratan Rajvanshi—Krish’s father.
I scrambled to my feet, mildly flustered, while Krish helped himself up.
“Dad?” he uttered, a hint of surprise in his voice. “What… what are you doing here?”
“Director,” his father responded strictly. “In my cabin, now,” he commanded, casting me a disapproving glance before leaving the scene.
Shit! My eyes met with Krish’s in a wordless exchange before I left the gym, grappling with the realisation that I might have just jeopardised our professional standing.