Part 10
Maan sat at his desk, gripping the pen in his hand, but he wasn’t seeing the reports in front of him.
His mind was still stuck in that damn boardroom.
Geet.
The way she had stood her ground. The way she had challenged him. The way she had looked at him, daring him to acknowledge what was happening between them.
She had never looked at him like that before.
Not in defiance. Not in control.
And for the first time, he had been the one caught off guard.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He had made a mistake last night. A huge mistake. Calling her—letting his voice betray the one thing he had sworn never to reveal.
He wanted her.
Wanted her in ways he wasn’t prepared for.
And now?
Now she knew it.
And that was dangerous.
Geet tried to focus on the numbers, on the data, on anything but the way her heart was racing.
But it was impossible.
The moment in the boardroom replayed over and over in her head, her body still buzzing with the thrill of standing up to him.
She had seen it—the hesitation in his eyes.
For the first time, Maan Singh Khurana had no words.
She should have felt victorious.
But all she felt was exhausted.
She had played his game, walked the tightrope between professionalism and something else entirely, but she was tired of pretending.
She needed answers.
And she needed them now.
By the time the office emptied out that evening, Geet had made up her mind.
She wasn’t leaving without talking to him.
She strode toward his office, her pulse hammering against her ribs. The glass doors were closed, but his silhouette was there, his posture stiff as he stared at something unseen on his desk.
For a second, she hesitated.
But then she thought about the call.
The way his voice had sounded—raw, unguarded.
She squared her shoulders and knocked.
Silence.
Then—
“Come in.”
Geet pushed open the door, stepping inside before she could second-guess herself.
Maan didn’t look up immediately. He was staring at a document, but she knew he wasn’t reading it.
Slowly, he set his pen down and leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes locking onto hers.
“What do you want, Geet?” His voice was calm. Too calm.
She hated that.
She hated that he could act like everything was normal when nothing was.
Her hands clenched at her sides. “You called me last night.”
A flicker of something flashed in his gaze—regret, frustration, maybe even guilt—but it was gone before she could catch it.
Maan tilted his head slightly. “I don’t recall.”
Liar.
Geet stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
“You said you think about me too much,” she pressed, her voice unwavering. “You said it like it was some kind of confession.”
His jaw tightened. “I was drunk.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Right. So that means it wasn’t real?”
Silence.
Geet inhaled sharply, her fingers curling into fists.
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Maan’s words hung in the air, each syllable laced with something sharp and unfinished.
"I was drunk."
Geet’s breath caught in her throat, her hands curling into fists by her sides. The exhaustion—the constant push and pull, the mind games, the tension that never found release—it all came crashing down at once.
She didn’t want this.
Not like this.
Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out of his office.
Maan didn’t stop her.
He didn’t call her name.
Didn’t say anything at all.
And somehow, that hurt more than anything else.
The office was nearly empty. The only sound was the occasional click of Geet’s keyboard as she worked, drowning herself in numbers, formulas, projections—anything to keep her mind off him.
But it wasn’t working.
Her mind was a mess. The confrontation in his office replayed in her head like a broken record, over and over.
"I was drunk."
"So that means it wasn’t real?"
She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. Why did she care so much? Why did she let him do this to her?
A shadow loomed near her desk.
She looked up, startled.
Maan stood there, watching her. His tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and there was something unreadable in his gaze.
Her throat went dry. “Sir?”
He ignored the formality.
“Have you had dinner?”
The question was so simple, so normal, that for a second, she blinked at him in confusion.
Then, she shook her head. “No, not yet.”
A pause.
Then—
“Come,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Let’s go eat.”
The small restaurant was quiet, tucked away from the bustling city—a place Geet never would have expected Maan to choose. It wasn’t one of the high-end places he frequented, nor was it a corporate dining space.
It was comfortable.
Maan let her order for both of them, watching as she carefully selected dishes, as if she had done this for him before.
And for a brief moment, he let himself pretend that maybe she had.
As the food arrived, he broke the silence first.
“How are you liking it in the office?”
Geet glanced at him, surprised at the almost… normal conversation starter. She reached for a piece of naan, tearing it into smaller pieces before answering.
“It’s… good,” she said slowly. “Work is challenging, but I like it.”
He nodded, swirling his whiskey glass in his hand. “And how’s the work treating you?”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “That’s the same question, phrased differently.”
Maan smirked, taking a sip of his drink. “Then answer it differently.”
She sighed, stirring her dal absentmindedly. “It’s overwhelming some days. But I think I’m getting better at it.”
He hummed in response, watching her as she took a bite.
It should have been a normal conversation, just another CEO and his employee sharing a meal.
But the air between them was anything but normal.
There was an undercurrent.
A pull.
A tension neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
Geet watched as he lifted his glass again, the amber liquid catching the dim light. She hesitated before asking, “Was there a networking event?”
Maan’s lips twitched slightly. “No.”
Her brows furrowed. “Then why are you drinking?”
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
Her eyes widened slightly, her lips parting as she realized her mistake. “Sorry,” she murmured quickly. “Not my place.”
Maan didn’t respond right away. He just stared at her, his expression unreadable.
Then, after a long pause, he spoke.
“Habit.”
Geet nodded, not pressing further.
For once, Maan let the silence sit between them.
And somehow, that silence said more than words ever could.
The tension had been building for days.
A week had passed without a word from Maan.
No passing glances. No accidental brushes in the hallways. Nothing.
And it was driving Geet insane.
Because outside of Maan’s infuriating absence from her life, everything else was fine.
Her work had been going well. Her friendships at the office were solidifying. Raj and the others had become her little work family.
And that’s when it had started.
The teasing.
The jokes.
The subtle whispers about Raj and her.
Raj, who was always the first to pull her into conversation. Raj, who had once dramatically declared that if she wasn’t going to date anyone, she should at least pretend to be his girlfriend to save him from “desperate office gossip.”
Geet had laughed at the time, shaking her head. But she hadn’t realized how much people had actually started talking.
And apparently, neither had Maan.
Geet cooked for people she cared about.
It was just what she did.
Back when she had her catering business, back when she had to fight for every penny, food had been her love language.
She often brought extra lunch for Raj and the others, sharing whatever she had made the night before.
And one day, she had packed a box for Maan too.
Because she was stupid.
Because even after seven days of silence, she still found herself caring.
So when she walked toward Maan’s office with the neatly packed meal in her hands, she wasn’t expecting anything in return.
She just wanted to give it to him.
Maybe he wouldn’t even eat it.
Maybe he wouldn’t even look at her.
But as soon as she reached his door, she knew something was wrong.
Because Maan wasn’t calm and unreadable like usual.
He was tense.
His grip on the pen in his hand was too tight, his posture stiff as he sat at his desk.
And when he finally lifted his gaze to meet hers, his eyes were dark.
Not unreadable.
Not empty.
But furious.
Geet’s breath caught.
“What?” she asked, gripping the box a little tighter.
Maan’s voice was clipped. Cold.
“What do you want, Geet?”
Her stomach twisted.
She had expected indifference.
She hadn’t expected anger.
“I—” she hesitated, glancing at the container in her hands. “I brought food. I made biryani last night, and I thought…”
Maan exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair, the tension rolling off him in waves.
“You thought what?” he said, his voice sharp and biting.
Geet blinked, stunned by the hostility in his tone.
“I just… thought you might like some.”
A humorless smirk curled at his lips, but there was nothing amused about it.
“I’m sure Raj enjoyed it.”
Geet’s brows furrowed. “What?”
Maan stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor, his hands gripping the desk. His restraint was cracking.
“I don’t need your pity food, Geet,” he bit out. “You can save that for the people you actually care about.”
She stilled.
The words hit her harder than she expected, her pulse roaring in her ears.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
Maan let out a bitter laugh. And that’s when she knew.
He was jealous.
But instead of feeling triumphant, it just made her angry.
“You think this is about Raj?” she asked, incredulous.
Maan scoffed. “Oh please, don’t act clueless. Everyone in the damn office sees it. You and Raj. Laughing. Whispering. Bringing him food every damn day like he’s—”
He cut himself off. But it was too late.
Geet felt her own anger ignite.
She took a step closer, her fingers tightening around the container.
“And what, Maan?” she snapped. “What does it look like? Say it.”
His jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. He couldn’t.
And that’s when she lost it.
Because this wasn’t fair.
Because he didn’t get to be angry.
Not when he was the one who had ignored her for a week.
Not when he was the one who pretended like nothing happened between them.
Not when he was the one who called her in the middle of the night, saying things he never should have said, only to pretend it didn’t mean anything the next day.
And before she could stop herself, before she could take it back—
The words left her lips.
“I hate you.”
Maan’s eyes flashed.
And then—
He smiled.
A slow, dangerous smirk that burned.
And when he finally spoke, his voice was a whisper.
“You know what?”
He stepped closer, invading her space.
His breath fanned against her skin, his presence overwhelming.
“I hate you too.”
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