chapter 5

The morning had barely begun, but Nitika was already pacing outside Ivan's office with the determination of a soldier heading into battle. She clutched her tablet to her chest, inhaling deeply as if preparing to face a dragon. And in a way-she was.

Behind the heavy glass door, she could hear his voice. Calm. Controlled. Cold.

He was already on a call.

"Delay the shipment," Ivan said sharply. "If they have a problem, tell them to take it up with legal."

Nitika exhaled slowly.

This was it.

Today, she would demand something she'd been putting off for months.

Actually, nearly a year.

Holidays.

Time off.

Even a single day would do, but she was going to ask for a whole week. She had rehearsed in the mirror, practiced her tone, perfected her "please" face-complete with blinking eyes-to maximize persuasion.

But this was Ivan Rathore.

A man who could stare into the eyes of fire and not blink.

She pushed open the door.

Ivan was seated behind his massive black desk, posture straight, eyes like sharp steel. Kabir lounged on the sofa, kicking his feet up, sipping coffee he clearly stole from Ivan's private stash.

"There you are," Kabir said, waving lazily. "The angel of paperwork arrives."

"I am not in the mood," Nitika warned.

Kabir lowered his cup. "Uh-oh. She looks serious today."

Ivan didn't even look up. "You're late."

"I am not late," she said through clenched teeth. "I am arriving with intention."

"That," Kabir murmured, "sounds like trouble."

Nitika marched right up to Ivan's desk and placed her tablet down with a loud thunk.

Ivan finally raised his eyes. "What is this?"

"My patience," she announced dramatically. "Ending today."

Kabir almost choked on his coffee.

Ivan leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. "Get to the point."

"I want holidays."

Silence.

Not long silence-just enough for Kabir's eyebrows to shoot into his hairline, and for Ivan to blink once as if processing the audacity of her request.

"Holidays?" Ivan repeated. "No."

Nitika expected resistance, but this?

This was instant rejection.

"No?"

"That's correct."

"Sir, think about me!" she pleaded, pressing a hand to her heart. "For a full year-twelve months-I have not taken even a single holiday!"

"You took a half day last winter," Ivan said blankly.

"That was because the building was on fire!"

Kabir nodded. "Valid point."

Ivan ignored him. "Half day is still a day."

"It does NOT count!" Nitika snapped. "My hair almost burned!"

"It did not burn," Ivan corrected calmly. "It curled."

"That was TRAUMA CURLING!"

Kabir was having the time of his life, watching them argue like parents fighting over who left the stove on.

Nitika took a deep breath. She had promised herself she would stay composed. Mature. Professional.

That lasted two minutes.

She clasped her hands together and leaned forward, blinking rapidly.

"Please, sir. Please. I just want a week. Even four days! Three? Three and a half?"

She blinked again. Faster.

"Pretty please?"

Ivan stared at her, expression completely deadpan. "No."

She blinked more dramatically.

"No."

She blinked aggressively.

"Nitika," he said slowly, "stop blinking like a malfunctioning robot."

"It's called puppy eyes!"

"It's called manipulation."

Kabir snickered. "You have to admit she's good at it."

Ivan shot him a glare. "Do not encourage this."

Nitika slammed her hands on the desk. "Sir! I am a human being! I need rest!"

"You rest on weekends."

"No, I don't!" she shouted. "Because SOMEONE keeps texting me spreadsheets on Saturdays! And then Sunday night reminders! And Monday morning scoldings!"

"That's not work," Ivan said calmly.

"It IS WORK!"

Kabir whispered, "She's gonna explode."

Nitika pointed a finger at Ivan. "You are cruel."

Ivan raised a brow. "And?"

"I will complain!"

Ivan shrugged. "Still no."

"With whom you will complain?" Kabir asked, amused.

Nitika lifted her chin dramatically.

"To God."

Silence.

Then Ivan laughed a little.

Actually laughed.

A short, sharp, unexpected sound that caught Kabir off guard.

"You will complain to God," Ivan repeated, amusement breaking through his control. "Nitika, he will not come to Earth over something so silly."

Nitika gasped, offended. "Silly?! SIR! My mental health is NOT silly!"

Kabir leaned forward on the sofa, fascinated. "This is gold. Continue."

Nitika ignored him.

"My eye bags have eye bags," she said. "My back hurts from bending over spreadsheets. My hands have started shaking from typing too much. And look-look at my face!"

Ivan stared at her blankly.

"I will grow old early because of you!" she declared dramatically. "I will get wrinkles at twenty-nine!"

"You're thirty-one," Kabir corrected quietly.

She glared. "DO NOT."

Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nitika, we have a crisis. A traitor's confession. A rival company attacking us. A leak in our system. This is not the time for vacations."

"That is EXACTLY why it is the time," she said. "If I burn out, who will handle everything? You? Ha! You can't even book your own flights!"

Kabir burst into laughter.

Ivan's glare could have burned a hole through concrete.

"I am perfectly capable-" Ivan began.

"You once booked a flight for 4 a.m. thinking it meant afternoon!"

Kabir wheezed. "He did WHAT?!"

Ivan muttered, "That was a miscommunication."

"That was you not understanding AM and PM," Nitika said flatly.

Ivan opened his mouth-then closed it.

Nitika crossed her arms. "Sir. I demand holidays."

"And I reject them."

"You are cruel."

"You already said that."

"You are heartless."

"That too."

"You are a tyrant!"

Ivan finally looked up at her, leaning back in his chair with a cold smile.

"But you are still here."

Nitika sputtered. "Not for long! I swear I will pack my bags and leave-"

"Still no," Ivan said calmly.

"Oh, for the love of-WHY?"

He tapped his pen lightly on the desk.

"Because you won't leave."

Nitika froze. "How do you know?"

Ivan met her eyes.

"Because you care too much about your work. You care about the company. And whether I annoy you or not... you care about me."

Silence.

Kabir's eyes widened. "Oh boy."

Nitika's cheeks heated instantly. "Wha-NO! That is-NO. I don't-I care about my salary."

Ivan smirked. "Ah. The narcissistic assistant returns."

"I AM NOT NARCISSISTIC!"

"You are."

Kabir nodded. "Definitely."

She threw her hands in the air. "I hate both of you."

"You say that every day," Ivan replied.

"Because you both DESERVE IT."

He folded his arms. "Now sit down. We have work."

"No! Holidays!"

"No."

"You are cruel!"

"Yes."

"I will complain!"

"To whom?"

"To GOD!"

Ivan laughed again, shaking his head. "God will not intervene in this office."

"He should," she muttered. "Because this place is pure hell."

Kabir whispered loudly, "She's gonna start chanting holy verses soon."

"YOU BE QUIET," she snapped.

Ivan stood from his chair. "Nitika."

She glared at him.

"You will not old early."

"I WILL!"

"You will not."

"I WILL, SIR!"

"You won't."

"WHY?!"

He looked at her calmly.

"Because you don't have time for wrinkles. You're too busy yelling at me."

Kabir cackled. "He's not wrong."

Nitika groaned dramatically.

"This job," she whispered to herself, "is shaving years off my life..."

Ivan returned to his desk, already typing. "Back to work."

"No holidays?"

"No."

Nitika sighed, picked up her tablet, and stomped out of the office-muttering curses about bosses, tyrants, wrinkles, God, and the tragedy of working for emotionally constipated men.

Kabir leaned toward Ivan, grinning.

"You know she's going to try again tomorrow, right?"

Ivan smirked. "I know."

"And the day after?"

"I know."

"And eventually-maybe you'll actually give her holidays?"

Ivan paused.

Then-

"No."

Kabir burst out laughing. "You're evil."

"I'm practical."

Ivan's eyes lingered on the door Nitika had slammed shut.