Chapter 40

Not a good idea.

"He's the CEO. I doubt he will have the time to attend the functions," I counter weakly.

"I have to invite him. It is up to him, if he would like to attend," Rohit replies with a shrug.

We disperse after deciding on the place to meet on the designated Saturday. I go back to my workstation, wondering how to avoid Mr. Vicky Grewal.

I have to prepare Vicky's speech in addition to updating all our social media accounts and websites with latest news.

I finish the speech first and email it to him. I convince myself that I did it because it was easy to do, as his instructions were very clear. I can then attend to my other tasks with ease. But inner voice kept reminding me, it was because I wanted to be rid of his lingering thoughts, ever present, while working on his task.

It was late afternoon, when my office desk phone rang. I pick it up without looking at the caller ID, engrossed in typing out a furious message to DeWorld sales team who were holding up my updates for the newsletter and website, by delaying their monthly report.

"Tarana," I answer in my usual business tone.

"Ms. Dheer? This is a call from the CEO's office. Mr. Vicky would like to see you in his office at five this evening." A female voice on the other side informs me.

Reema!

"Sure."

"Our CEO is a busy man; he does not like to be kept waiting. Make sure you are here at five sharp," she remarks condescendingly. I wonder if she is the same with everyone or whether she has a special dislike for me.

"Yes Ma'am! I will be there on time," I reply before hanging up, not waiting for any further snide comments.

Five minutes to five, I am heading to the twentieth floor, by the exclusive lift reserved for the occupants and visitors to the top two floors. It is manned by a liftman in a crisp uniform. This is the first time I have the opportunity to visit the hallowed seat of power of DeGlobal Corp.

While the decor of the offices on the floors below is warm, simple and functional, this floor is brighter and imposing in comparison.

To my right, the floor to ceiling glass windows serves as the wall. It overlooks the main entrance of the building and provides a great view of the city, with all its hustle and bustle. People entering and exiting the building below look like those miniature Lego figures. I would have loved to stay and observe the city from here, but Reema's stern voice rings in my ears. She reminds me of a tough school principal of a reform school.

The reception area seems straight out of an international decor magazine, befitting the power and stature of the chief of one of India's top companies.

A wooden partition separates the reception area from the rest of the floor. The secretary' s desk is situated in the middle. On either side of the desk are two doors, behind which would be the offices of the MD and the CEO.

At first glance everything looks black and white, from the off-white carpet under black leather sofas surrounding a large steel and glass coffee table. Double height walls painted white, and the large black workstation of the secretary. But as I look around, I see paintings on the walls, aesthetically placed sculptures and potted plants, breaking the monotony. A 60-inch TV mounted up on the wall is set to a news channel, for the benefit of waiting visitors.

One side of the room is occupied by a huge display cabinet, holding awards, plaques and citations received from various governmental and international agencies.

A large oil painting on the wall behind Reema is an abstract art which looks to me as if the artist took the entire set of paints and threw them on the canvas and randomly twirled a brush over it. I recall the time Jeet and I were at News of the Nation office and he explained the intricacies of art. I bet this piece of art is an original work and when I spot the little bright white signature in the lower right corner, I give a small smile.

Reema looks up from her computer as I approach her. She looks at her watch, ready to pounce if I am late. I look at my watch as well, which shows sharp five. I smile innocently at her.

"Have a seat," she points towards the seating area, without offering any pleasantries. "Ms. Dheer is here," I hear her speak on the phone, as I walk towards the sofa. Before I could reach my seat, Reema calls out. "Ms. Dheer follow me."

I follow her as she turns toward the left door, places her ID on the card reader machine, and the door buzzes open.

I walk behind Reema along a carpeted corridor, unconsciously smoothing my green and white cotton kurta, which is obviously not very suitable for a meeting with the CEO.

She knocks on the glass door and holds it open for me to enter. My eyes widen at the size of Vicky's office.

"Thank you Reema!" Jeet politely dismisses her, while I admire the sight of the CEO's office.

Vicky's office is bigger than my entire apartment. One side of the wall has huge glass windows. If I thought the view from the elevator lobby was great, this is stunning. Not only does it offer a great view of the city, but also an expansive view of the Arabian Sea.

While the reception area outside is modern and formal - designed to impress, the decor in Vicky's office is a mix of funky and traditional, more suited to his personality.

He is sitting at one end of the room behind a large and tidy L shaped solid wood table, his jacket hanging on a coat rack near the window. Behind him is a bookshelf of similar wood filled with thick volumes of books, ranging from law, economics to engineering and management. A midnight blue sofa set, is placed in the middle of the room near the glass wall, affording a spectacular panorama of the city to anyone sitting there.

Of course, this being Jeet's office, there are a couple of abstract paintings hanging on the wall, these ones more colourful and bright than those in the reception. An industrial looking clock on the wall and a floor lamp in the shape of a stick man, add an element of fun to the room.

"Have a seat," he instructs, continuing typing on his computer. I pull out the chair in front of his desk, when he stops me. "On second thought, let's sit on the couch, I can show you my notes better."

I take a seat at one end of the larger couch, the one facing the sea (obviously!), assuming Vicky will sit on the adjacent single seat couch. Instead he crosses over and sits next to me, giving me a close up view of his fitted shirt hanging on for dear life to his taut body.

My body immediately goes on high alert at his proximity, like iron drawn to a magnet.

His woody, citrusy perfume hits my senses and I have trouble remembering why I am here. I clench the pen tightly in my hand, willing my body to control my reaction to his presence. He shifts closer to hand the papers over to me, our knees almost touching. I can swear my face is on fire.

"So um, what did you want to discuss?" I ask, clearing my throat.

"What you have written is good, but I want it a bit fine-tuned. I need to add more information on technology and development. I have added my comments here," he says pointing to the places where he has made notes. His handwriting is almost illegible, and I have to concentrate hard to understand what he has written.

One more point to add to my list of 'cons' for Jeet. So far, I have two. He's way out of my league and he's got bad handwriting.

Still the list of 'pros' is greater. He's kind, intelligent, sensitive, caring, hot, gentle, great kisser, voice that makes me melt, did I mention hot? and the list keeps growing.

OK that's it!! I need to stop or else I will throw myself at him, forgetting all limits of decency and protocol.

I squirm in my seat and Vicky immediately scoots backward. See? caring and sensitive! I am doomed!!

A sharp knock before the doors opens, interrupts our conversation. Reema briefly looks at us, then turns her attention solely to her boss. "Vicky, I am ready to leave now. Is there anything else you wish to discuss before I go?"

Vicky stands up and I mirror his action. "You sit, I haven't finished our discussion as yet." he orders me, while walking to his desk.

"Important numbers, location of documents, passwords and other details you may need are in this file," she says handing him a file. "Roshni has been briefed thoroughly on all procedures and how to access any information you may need. And if there is anything else, you can call me anytime."

"Don't worry about me, I can manage myself. You have a wonderful vacation and forget about the office for a while."

"But I mean it, if you need anything, I mean anything at all, just call me and I will be back instantly," she persists.

Jeet smiles benevolently at Reema, "My dear Reema, it is a matter of one month. I am sure we will manage. And besides, if we need you urgently, of course I will call you. But for now, go and enjoy the company of your newborn granddaughter."

"Alright then, you take care of yourself and I will see you soon." She turns to leave.

"Reema wait!" Jeet calls out. He pulls out a small jewellery box from a drawer and hands it to her. "A small gift from me, for your little angel."

Reema's face twitches as she struggles to keep her emotions in check. She opens it and looks at him in surprise. "This looks extravagant. I couldn't possibly accept this, Vicky," she speaks slowly.

"It is worth nothing compared to the little one and besides it is supposed to bring luck. It would make me happy if you accept it," he says pushing the box back to her. Reema merely nods, too choked up with emotion to reply. "Thank you. I, we, appreciate it a lot," she whispers.

She looks at me as she is leaving. I smile at her, "Congratulations," I wish. Reema gives a brief but genuine smile and a nod, before closing the door behind her.

Damn you Jeet, I cry inwardly. Don't be that sweet guy. Give me a reason to hate you, not fall in love with you more.

"Ok, where were we?" Vicky sits next to me again, back to business mode.

"Uh, um, the speech." I stutter.

"Yes, right. Like I was saying, I need to adjust the speech. The introduction needs more details, and the sequence of the points will be changed."

I try really hard to concentrate on his words, listening carefully to him. But every now and then my mind slips.

How many girls has he seduced with that sexy voice? His caramel eyes with those long lashes are so beautiful. Look at those pecs moving so gracefully under that shirt every time he lifts his hands.

"Tarana? Did you hear what I just said?" Vicky's sharp voice pulls me out of my daydreaming.

"Sorry. I was thinking where I should add the information," I cover up.

He looks at his watch. "It's past 6. You should be going now. I will email you the information and you can incorporate it in the speech and send it to me tomorrow morning."

I did not realise it was this late, but with Jeet time seems to fly. I look out the window. Sure enough daylight is dimming.

"Goodness gracious!!" I exclaim, hurrying to the window.

"What happened?" Vicky follows me, worry clear in his voice.

"The sunset! its magnificent!!"

And it is! The sun is slowly setting, colouring the sky with almost every colour of the rainbow. The fluffy clouds speck the sky like a blanket of cotton.

"Yes! ordered it specially for you," he says with a straight face, standing next to me.

I let out a chuckle. "You are so fortunate to be able to view these beautiful sunsets from here every day."

"Actually, this is the first time I am observing a sunset from here."

"What?! Just look at this. How could you miss this opportunity?" Shocked, I turn to look at him.

I almost bump into him, before we both take a step back. I did not realise he was standing so close next to me.

"I seem to be missing a lot of opportunities," he says in a wistful tone.

I look at him wondering if I am supposed to read between the lines. His caramel eyes, looking at me intently, reflect the golden orange of the setting sun, making them glow like smoldering embers.

"I uh, late, leave.. go."

I cannot seem to string a simple sentence together, but it was enough to break the trance.

"Yes! of course!" he says tersely, retreating behind his desk, sorting out papers scattered on it.

I hurriedly gather my things and head for the door. Vicky beats me to it, opening the door for me.

"Tarana, I can drop you home," His voice sounds most hopeful.

As exciting as it sounds, I cannot accept his offer. Coming here to his office, it has dawned on me, just how important and powerful Vicky Grewal is. I am less than a small fry in his world. Expecting him to like me back, will only cause me more heartache.

"Thank you, but I am not going home. I have other plans." Those being, buying vegetables from the market.

"Oh! I see." His face falls and I am almost tempted to accept his offer, but I stop myself.

Spend more time with Vicky alone?

Not a good idea.