Chapter 10.
At one o'clock the next afternoon, Zoya went up to the eightieth floor and was informed by Mary that Mr. Khan wanted to see her immediately. Fighting down her nervous tension, Zoya smoothed her hair, which was held in a loose knot at her nape, and walked into his office. "You wanted to see me?" she said politely.
Asad tossed the documents he was reading down on his desk, leaned back in his chair and lazily surveyed her. "You were wearing your hair up like that the day we left for Alibaug," he said, his deep voice pitched seductively low. "I like it."
"In that case," Zoya said lightly, "I'll start wearing it down." He grinned.
"So that's the way we're going to play it, is it?"
"Play what?"
"This little game we started yesterday."
"I am not playing your game," she said with quiet firmness. "I do not want the prize." But she did. She wanted him forever, for herself. And she despised herself for that same stupid weakness.
Asad observed her troubled expression with a feeling of satisfaction and nodded toward the chair in front of his desk. "Sit down. I was just about to review a file I had sent up."
Relieved that he was ready to get to work, Zoya sat down, but her breath caught in her chest when he picked up the file and opened it. CONFIDENTIAL"PERSONNEL FILE was stamped across the front, and beneath it was a typed label that read, ZOYA FAAROQUI/EMPLOYEE NO. 98753.
A flush tinted her delicately molded cheekbones as she remembered deliberately failing her tests and listing president as her first preference for a job. Asad would see that and"
"Hmmm," he said, "Zoya Faaroqui. Zoya is a beautiful name. It really suits you."
Unable to endure the sweet torment of having him flirt with her, Zoya said repressively, "I was named after an aunt. She had a squint."
Asad ignored that and continued aloud. "Color of eyes, blue." He regarded her over the top of the file, his gray eyes intimate and teasing. "They are definitely blue. A man could lose himself in those eyes of yours "they're gorgeous. "
"My right eye used to wobble unless I wore my glasses," Zoya informed him happily. "They had to operate on it."
"A little girl with wobbly blue eyes and glasses on her nose," he reflected with a slow grin. "I'll bet you were cute."
"I looked studious, not cute."
Asad's lips twitched as if he knew exactly what she was trying to do. He turned over the application, and Zoya watched him scanning it, his gaze nearing the bottom where she had listed her job preferences. She knew the exact instant he spotted what she had written. "What the... !" he said, astonished, and then he burst out laughing. "Anand and I are going to have to be careful. Which of our jobs do you want the most?"
"Neither," Zoya said shortly. "I did that because on my way to the interview at AAK Corp, I decided I didn't want to work there after all."
"So you purposely flunked your tests, is that it?"
"That's it."
"Zoya..." he began in a soft seductive voice that instantly put her on her guard.
"I've had the dubious pleasure of reading through your file," Zoya cut in coolly. "Your public-relations file," she clarified, at his stunned look. "I know all about Mona Kapoor and the movie star. I even saw the picture of you that was taken with Ananya Gupta the day after you sent me away because a 'business acquaintance' was coming to see you."
"And," he concluded evenly, "you were hurt."
"I was disgusted," Zoya shot back, refusing to admit to any of the anguish she'd felt. She caught hold of her temper and said with a measure of her former calm, "Now can we please get down to work?"
A moment later Asad was called into a meeting that lasted the rest of the afternoon, so Zoya was left in peace. A peace that was disturbed by Mary D'costa's frequent thoughtful glances.
At ten o'clock the next morning, Samar, looking annoyed, appeared at Zoya's desk. "Asad just called. He wants you up there right now, and he's going to need you for the rest of the day." Sighing, he gestured toward the report she'd been preparing for him. "Go ahead. I'll finish that."
Mary was gone when Zoya arrived, but Asad was seated at his desk, his suit coat and tie removed, his dark head bent as he concentrated on the notes he was writing. His shirtsleeves were rolled up on his tanned forearms and his collar was unbuttoned. Zoya's gaze drifted to the tanned column of his throat. Not so long ago, she remembered, she had pressed her lips to the hollow there where his pulse beat...
She looked at his beautifully styled dark hair and the ruggedly chiseled angles of his jaw and cheek. He was the handsomest, most compelling man she had ever seen, she thought with a pang of longing. But when she spoke, her voice was calmly detached. "Samar said you needed me up here right away. What do you want me to do for you?"
Asad turned and looked at her, a smile sweeping across his features. "Now there's a question," he teased.
She pointedly ignored his sexual innuendo. "I understand that you have an urgent task for me."
"I do."
"What is it?"
"I want you to go to the coffee shop and get me something to eat."
"That"" Zoya choked. "That's your idea of urgent?"
"Very urgent," Asad replied imperturbably. "I happen to be starved."
Zoya clenched her hands into fists. "To you I may merely be some silly, amusing sexual object, but downstairs I have an important job to do, and Samar needs me."
"I need you, sweetheart. I've been here since""
"Don't you dare call me sweetheart!" she burst out, reeling with unwanted joy at the casual endearment.
"Why not?" he cajoled, a smile lighting his face. "You're sweet."
"You won't think so if you call me sweetheart again," Zoya promised.
His brows drew together at her tone, and Zoya had to remind herself that he was still her boss. "Oh all right!" she capitulated ungraciously. "What do you eat for breakfast?"
"Irritating secretaries," he mocked.
Zoya stalked back to her temporary office and discovered that Mary had returned. "You won't need money, Zoya," the woman said. "We have an account set up at the coffee shop."
Two things hit Zoya at once: the first was that Mary had just called her Zoya instead of her usual frosty Miss Faaroqui. And the second was that she was smiling"and what a smile Mary D'costa had! It seemed to glow from inside her, lighting her face and softening her features in a way that made her seem absolutely lovely.
Zoya found herself returning that contagious smile. "What does he eat for breakfast?" she sighed.
Mary's eyes twinkled. "Irritating secretaries."
As if to atone for sending her on such an unimportant errand, Asad thanked her for the sweet rolls she brought him and courageously insisted on pouring her a cup of coffee.
"I'll make it myself, but thank you anyway," Zoya said firmly. To her discomfort, Asad strolled over to the bar and casually leaned against it, watching her add cream and sugar.
When she reached out to pick up her cup, he put his hand on her arm. "Zoya," he said quietly, "I'm sorry I hurt you. Believe me, I never intended to do that."
"There's no need for you to keep apologizing," she replied, carefully pulling her arm away. "Let's just forget the whole thing happened." She picked up her cup and started toward her desk.
"By the way," he said casually, "I'm leaving for Italy tonight. But beginning on Monday, I'll need you up here in the mornings too."
"For how long?" Zoya asked, appalled.
He grinned. "For as long as it takes me to win this game of ours."
With those words the ordeal was tossed, and the battle of wills that ensued promptly wore Zoya to a frazzle.
She had scarcely put down her coffee cup when Asad buzzed her on the intercom and asked her to come into his office and take a letter to Rossi, the Italian inventor. "And bring your coffee," he invited.
In the middle of his rapid-fire dictation he said softly, without pausing, "When the sun is on your hair, it shines," and launched back into his letter. Zoya, who had carelessly taken half of the compliment down in shorthand, gave him a killing glance, and he chuckled.
At one o'clock he asked her to sit in on a meeting in his office and take notes. In the middle of the meeting, she glanced up to find his heavy-lidded gaze on her lips. Her whole body turned warm. Asad looked into her eyes and smiled knowingly.
When the meeting adjourned Zoya stood to leave, but Asad stopped her. "Have you finished typing your Italian translation of that list of questions I dictated, so that Rossi will understand what I want to know?" Flicking a charmingly apologetic smile in her direction, he added, "I hate to rush you, sweetheart, but I have to take it with me to Italy."
Why, Zoya wondered resentfully, did her stupid heart turn over when he called her sweetheart? "It's ready," she answered.
"Good. And have you figured out from the work you've been doing what the Rossi project is all about?"
She shook her head. "No, not really. It's all too technical. I know Rossi is a chemist who lives in Italy and that he's invented something you're interested in. And I know you're considering financing his research as well as producing his product in the future."
"I should have explained it to you before. It would have made your work up here more enjoyable," he said, changing unexpectedly from seducer to considerate boss. "Rossi has developed a chemical that appears to make certain synthetic materials, including nylon, completely waterproof, fireproof, weatherproof and soil-proof, without changing the appearance or texture of the original substance. Carpeting and clothing made of these synthetics would be virtually impossible to wear out or ruin."
He was treating her like a business associate, and Zoya relaxed in his company for the first time since their weekend together. "But does the chemical really work, without changing or harming anything?"
"Damned if I know," Asad admitted wryly. "But I intend to find out on this trip. So far all I've seen are demonstrations. I need a sample to bring back with me for testing in a legitimate lab, but Rossi is paranoid about secrecy. He says he's testing me. "
Zoya wrinkled her nose. "He sounds a little crazy."
"He's eccentric as hell," Asad sighed. "He lives in a little cottage in Italy, a tiny Italian fishing village. He keeps dogs to protect him, but his laboratory is in a shed a half mile away, protected by nothing."
"At least you've seen demonstrations."
"Demonstrations don't mean much without thorough testing. For example, his chemical may make something waterproof"but what will happen if milk is spilled on it? Or a soft drink?"
"But what if it's everything he says it is?" she asked.
"In that case I'll put together a consortium"an alliance between Global Industries and two other cooperating corporations"and we'll present the world with Rossi's discovery."
"He's probably afraid that if he gives you a sample to test, someone at the lab will analyze it and learn what chemicals he's using. Then they could steal his discovery."
"You're right," he replied with a grin. Without warning, he put his arm around her and tipped her chin with his free hand. "I'll bring you a present from Italy. What would you like?"
"My mother's earrings," Zoya said flatly. With a sharp jerk backward, she freed herself from his arms, then she turned on her heel and marched into Mary's office. Asad's throaty chuckle followed her.
As he watched her walk away, Asad felt a strange, unfamiliar emotion budding deep inside him, a tenderness that made him feel vulnerable. The sight of her pleased him, her smile warmed him and touching her sent desire exploding through his system. She had poise and a natural, sophistication. In comparison to the other women in his life, Zoya was a tender innocent"and yet she had the courage to openly defy him and the strength to resist the pressure he was putting on her.
His smile faded. He was pressuring her, and he had never done that to a woman in his life. He was stalking her, backing her into corners, and he was disgusted with himself for it. And yet he couldn't stop ... He felt more for her than desire; he genuinely liked her. He admired her courage and her stubbornness, and even her idealism.
That unnamed and unwanted emotion stirred inside him again, and Asad mentally kept it aside. He wanted her because she was a beautiful enigma. He liked her and he desired her. Nothing more.
At 4:55 a joint conference call that Asad had scheduled came through from Banglore, Delhi and Dubai. When Mary told him it was ready, Asad asked her to send Zoya in to take notes.
"He's putting it on the speaker phone," Mary explained. "He'll only need you to take down any figures that are discussed."
The call was already under way when Zoya walked into his office. Asad gestured toward his chair and got up so that she could sit at his desk and take notes. Two minutes after Zoya sat down, he leaned over her from behind, braced his hands on the desk on either side of her and brushed his lips across her hair.
Zoya's self-control snapped. "Stop it!" she burst out.
"What?"
"What?"
"What?" three masculine voices chorused.
Asad leaned toward the speaker and drawled, "My secretary thinks you're talking too fast, and she'd like you to stop it so she can catch up."
"Well, all she had to do was ask," one offended male replied.
"I hope you're satisfied!" Zoya whispered furiously.
"I'm not," Asad chuckled in her ear. "But I'm going to be."
Fully intending to leave him to take his own notes, Zoya slammed her notebook closed and tried to shove her chair back. Asad's body blocked the chair. She twisted her head around to say something scathing, and his lips captured hers in a kiss that forced her head against the back of the chair, tripled her pulse rate and robbed her of thought. When he took his mouth away, she was too shaken to do anything except stare at him.
"What do you think, Asad?" a voice asked over the speaker.
"I think it gets better every time," he answered huskily.
When the call was finally over, Asad pressed a button on his desk, and Zoya saw the door leading into Mary's office swing shut electronically. He grasped her arms and drew her out of the chair, turning her toward him. His mouth came closer to hers, and Zoya felt herself being helplessly drawn into his magnetic spell. "Don't!" she pleaded "Please don't do this to me."
His hands tightened on her arms. "Why can't you just admit you want me and enjoy the consequences?"
"All right," she said wretchedly, "You win. I want you... I admit it." She saw the gleam of triumph in his eyes, and her chin lifted. "When I was eight years old, I also wanted a monkey I saw in a pet store."
The triumph faded. "And?" he sighed irritably letting go of her.
"And unfortunately I got him," Zoya said "Daisy bit me, and I had to have twelve stitches in my leg."
Asad looked as if he was torn between laughter and anger. "I imagine he bit you for naming him Daisy."
Zoya ignored his mockery. "And when I was thirteen, I wanted sisters and brothers. My father obliged me by remarrying, and I got a stepsister who stole my clothes, and a stepbrother who stole my allowances."
"What the hell does that have to do with us?"
"Everything!" She raised her hands in a gesture of appeal, then dropped them in defeat. "I'm trying to explain that I want you, but that I'm not going to let you hurt me again."
"I won't hurt you."
"Oh, yes you will!" she said, fiercely fighting back tears. "You won't mean to, but you will. You already have. When I left you in Alibaug, you went off to Banglore with one of your girlfriend. Do you know what I was doing while you were there?"
Asad shoved his hands in his pockets, his expression guarded. "No. What were you doing?"
"I," Zoya said on a note of hysterical, choking laughter, "was sitting by the phone waiting for you to call and knitting you a gray sweater to match your eyes." She looked at him, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "If we have an affair, you won't be emotionally involved, but I will. I can't detach my emotions from my body, hop into bed and have a wonderful time, and then forget about it. I'd want you to care, and I'd care. I'd be jealous if I thought you were with another woman. And if I knew you were, I'd be hurt and furious."
If he had mocked her or tried to persuade her, she would have burst into tears. But he did neither and she gained strength from that. She even managed a sad smile. "If we had an affair, when it was over you'd want us to be friends, wouldn't you? You'd expect it."
"Naturally."
"Then since our 'affair' is over, can we be friends now?" Her voice shook as she added, "I"I would really like to think of you as my friend."
Asad nodded, but he didn't speak. He simply stood looking at her, his gray eyes enigmatic.
Afterward, Zoya walked to her car, congratulating herself on the maturity with which she'd handled the situation. She had been honest and direct; she'd withstood temptation and upheld her principles. She had done the "right" thing, and she was a stronger, better person for it.
She folded her arms on the steering wheel and burst into tears.
Fan Fictions
Kabhi Neem Neem Kabhi Shahad Shahad
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