Chapter 5
Meera
I slide into the passenger seat beside Samarth and shut the door. My palms press together in my lap, my fingers knotting and unknotting, as he pulls out of my house without a word.
He’s still annoyed. I can tell. He didn’t greet me the way he usually does. He didn’t even open my door. And it’s all because of last night.
When I got home after dealing with that jerk, Dev, I’d called Samarth and told him what happened. He sounded worried, so much so that he came over immediately to make sure I was okay. Only after I reassured him did he finally relax. But even then, he was upset that I’d been alone at that hour.
I shift my gaze from the trees passing by to Samarth. His hands are clenched around the steering wheel, his eyes fixed straight ahead. His silence presses hard against my ribs. I know he’s holding back. He always does that, letting his anger simmer instead of exploding.
But sometimes, the quiet hurts more.
Finally, halfway down the road, I mutter, “Look, I know you’re upset. But can we talk about it instead of this silent treatment?”
“I told you they’re trouble, Meera. Then why did you leave the office when you knew I was coming to pick you?” he asks as he pulls up in front of our office building.
Neither of us steps out. Instead, he turns in his seat to face me.
“Samarth, my article got rejected. I just—” I let out a slow breath. “I needed to clear my head. I wasn’t thinking about anything else.”
“You could’ve texted me. You could’ve waited. How could you be so careless?”
“Careless?” I repeat, frowning.
He drags a hand through his hair. “Yes, careless. You walked out upset, alone, at night. Anything could’ve happened, Meera.”
I scoff under my breath. “So it’s my fault now?”
“I am not blaming you. You need to know I care about you. And you disappearing like that… it isn’t safe.”
“I get that you care, Samarth, but I am not a child. I can take care of myself, even on bad days. And Dev showing up wasn’t something I expected.”
“Of course he’d show up. Men like him thrive on creating drama whenever they sense even the slightest threat.”
“Nothing dramatic happened,” I say quietly.
I haven’t told Samarth how Dev’s light touch got under my skin. Or the way his closeness rattled my nerves. Telling him would only add to his worry. All he knows is that Dev showed up to warn me, and I didn’t pay heed.
He shoots me a look. “You sure? Because from how tense you were when you got home, it didn’t feel like ‘nothing.’”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “That… wasn’t because of him. I was just overwhelmed.”
He watches me for a moment, his eyes softening. “Meera, you’ve got to be careful. You get dragged into things without even realising it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s true,” he counters matter-of-factly. “And Dev, he’s not someone you just talk to and forget.”
I swallow, because somewhere it’s too close to the truth.
He sighs and looks ahead through the windshield. “Anyway, forget it. We’d better go in. We’re already late.”
“Yeah,” I nod, reaching for the door handle.
But just as I push the door open, his phone rings.
He glances at the screen. “I need to take this call.”
“You take the call. I’ll head in,” I tell him, stepping out.
He hesitates for a fraction of a second, then nods. “Okay. See you inside.”
I give him a small smile and close the door, watching him lift the phone to his ear as I make my way towards the office entrance.
I push through the glass doors, my eyes glued to my purse as I search for my access card.
Where did I even keep it? I mutter under my breath, heading straight for the elevator without looking up.
My fingers finally brush the plastic edge, and I exhale in relief as I step into the lift and press the button for my floor.
Just as the doors start to close, an annoyingly familiar husky voice cuts through.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
I jerk and turn to see Dev standing right beside me, leaning casually against the elevator wall.
“You?” I whisper in disbelief.
He grins. “Yes, me, sweetheart.”
I jab the button for the lift to stop, wanting nothing more than to get away, but the elevator halts abruptly. My stomach drops.
“Why did the lift stop?” I ask, pressing the button again. And again. Harder.
“Thank me for it, sweetheart. I figured this was the only way to make a stubborn kid like you talk to me.”
I whirl towards him. “Don’t act too smart, Mr. Dev Rathore. Do you think I am some stupid, helpless girl who can’t handle herself when you do something so absurd?”
He chuckles, a deep, amused sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “Of course I don’t. If you were stupid or helpless, I wouldn’t bother stalking you.”
My breath catches as he steps closer, and I stumble back until my back hits the lift wall.
“Relax,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on mine. “I only want to spend a few minutes with you.”
“Minutes?” I scoff. “I can’t even spend a second with you.”
Before I can move, he lifts his hands and places them on either side of me on the metal wall, caging me in.
“Then who do you like spending time with? That loser journalist boyfriend of yours? The one whose car you just stepped out of?”
My breath stutters. “That’s none of your business.”
“Oh, it is,” he says calmly. “And I must say, it’s a sad choice. No, actually, a bad choice.” He leans in slightly. “But I guess girls like you prefer boys like him.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean by girls like me?”
“I mean, goody two-shoes like you usually pick boring boys.”
“Well, not just girls like me. Any girl would pick boring boys over someone like you and your brother, who get a thrill out of playing with people’s emotions,” I shoot back.
Something flickers in his eyes. Hurt. Challenge. Something darker.
“Sweetheart, your words are really tempting me to change your mind,” he drawls with a smirk that grates on me. I refuse to carry this conversation any further. I won’t give him that satisfaction.
“Move,” I say sharply.
“Make me.”
Just then, the elevator jolts and shudders back to life. I exhale in relief but keep my glare fixed on him. Smiling, he drops his hands and steps back. The next moment, the doors slide open, and just as I am about to step out, his voice stops me.
“I am lucky that I got to spend even a few minutes with you.”
I pause at the threshold and turn just enough to look at him.
“You surely were lucky it was only a few minutes,” I fire back, my voice icy-sweet. “Because if it had been any longer, I would’ve definitely ended up killing you.”
His grin widens. “Careful with threats, sweetheart. I don’t take them lightly.”
I roll my eyes and walk out, my heart hammering in my chest, almost beyond my control.
Storming into my cabin, I slam the door shut behind me. I throw my bag onto the desk, my pulse still racing.
I pull in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, trying to reset myself, when the door bursts open, making me jump and spin around.
“What the hell is Dev doing here?” Samarth demands, his eyes sharp with irritation.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Creating a nuisance. It’s what he’s good at.”
Samarth shuts the door behind him and steps closer. “Are you okay? You look—”
“Fine,” I cut him off, even though I am anything but. And it’s all thanks to that annoying Dev. Just a few minutes with him is enough to throw me off balance.
His brows knit together, but before he can ask anything, a knock interrupts us.
We both turn as Mr. Keshav pushes the door open and walks in.
“Meera, I need you to take an interview,” he announces, standing in front of me.
“Interview?” I ask. “Who is it, sir?”
A voice answers from behind him.
“Me.”
My heart skips a beat, then another, as I glance over his shoulder and see Dev leaning casually in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his eyes locked on me. Samarth stiffens beside me instantly.
Mr. Keshav nods, looking at him and then back at me. “Yes. Mr. Dev Rathore. He’ll be our feature for the weekend column. We are very lucky to have him.”
Dev smirks lightly, walking further in. “The pleasure is mine.”
I swallow hard. “Mr. Keshav, can’t someone else—”
“No,” he cuts in. “You’re the best journalist we have. And Mr. Dev Rathore insisted he’d only speak to you.”
My gaze snaps to Dev. “You what?”
He shrugs. “I always want the best.”
Samarth steps forward, his jaw tightening. “Sir, if you want, I can take the interview instead—”
“No, Samarth.” Mr. Keshav looks at him. “I need you in my office. Right now. There’s something important we need to discuss.”
Without waiting for a response, he then turns around and walks out, closing the door behind him.
Samarth’s eyes flick to Dev. “What are you trying to pull here?”
“I am not answerable to you!” Dev replies, his eyes darkening as he glares at Samarth. “So stop asking questions and know your place!”
“Then stay out of her way, Mr. Rathore,” Samarth fires back, not backing down.
“If she wants me out of her way, let her say it herself. Why are you being her mouthpiece?” Dev shifts his gaze to me. “Do you want me out of your way, sweetheart?”
But before I can answer the asshole, Samarth cuts in sharply, his nostrils flaring at the endearment. “Meera, you don’t have to entertain his absurd question.”
Dev’s eyes flick back to him, clearly irritated. “You really are an annoying jerk. But for once, can you stop playing this macho man and not shut her down? Instead, let her vent whatever emotions she has for me.”
“I think it’s better if you leave,” Samarth grits out.
Dev lifts his brows. “Well, if I leave, I am pretty sure Mr. Keshav won’t be happy. In fact, he might just kick you out of your job.”
Samarth takes a step forward, but I quickly move between them.
“Samarth, I can handle this.” I look over my shoulder at Samarth.
“You heard her. She can handle me,” Dev pokes lazily, and Samarth’s muscles tense. But before he can say anything, his phone beeps with a message. He looks down, exhales hard, and then meets my gaze again.
“Meera, I need to be in Mr. Keshav’s office. Call me if he’s too much to deal with.” His eyes flick to Dev, full of warning, before he finally leaves.
The moment the door shuts, I glare at Dev, who grins back at me.
“I am confident you can deal with me without needing to call that idiot.”
“If you’re done with your nonsense, can we start the interview?” I ask, paying no heed to his remark.
“Sure… but before that, I want to ask you something.”
He leans against my desk, looking entirely too comfortable. “Do you always look this hot when you’re angry?”
“You are truly disgusting.”
“Relax.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, don’t answer that. Tell me this instead. Why do you hate me so much?”
I stare at him in disbelief. “You’re seriously asking me this?”
“Yes.” He shrugs. “Because I honestly don’t get it? I am rich, handsome, and hot.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but some people actually value personality over looks. And you clearly don’t have much of it.”
I try to walk to the door, but his hand shoots out and grabs my arm, pulling me back towards him. His eyes lock onto mine.
“I want to hate you,” he growls, his grip tightening. “I fucking should. But the way you challenge me, the way you don’t fear me, the way you fight back… it makes me lose my damn mind.”
My pulse spikes, but I don’t show it. And before I can give him a piece of my mind, my phone beeps.
I pull my arm free, grab my phone from my purse on the desk, and glance at the screen. I read the message, then look up straight into his dark, smug eyes. And this time, I smirk.
“Sorry, Mr. Dev Rathore, but I can’t stand here and listen to your crap. I have somewhere better to be.”
He narrows his eyes. “Where?”
I sling my purse over my shoulder. “You’ll know soon enough. And when you do, you’ll have every reason to hate me... properly, completely.” I wink at him and walk out, leaving him staring after me.