Chapter 9 - Taming Trouble

Adhya's POV

The morning buzzed with excitement as Adhya stepped into Malhotra Enterprises, holding her sketchpad and a determined smile. Today was important—the first official meeting with Dior, and she was supposed to assist in presenting the initial design concepts.

No pressure.

She strutted through the office, her heels clicking against the marble floor, dressed in an elegant yet playful cream tweed blazer dress, cinched at the waist. She looked the part, but internally, her nerves were all over the place.

"Morning, Miss Adhya!" a few employees greeted her with friendly smiles. Ever since she brought coffee and croissants, she had become the unofficial office sweetheart—except to one person.

"Morning, guys!" she chirped back, but her joy was cut short by a sharp voice.

"Miss Chauhan, if you're done playing social butterfly, the meeting starts in twenty minutes."

Adhya turned to see Malini standing by the conference room, her lips pursed in irritation.

"Relax, Malini," Adhya sighed dramatically. "I know you love the sound of your own voice, but no one else does."

A few muffled chuckles echoed behind her. Malini's jaw clenched, but before she could snap back, the sound of footsteps—strong, authoritative— filled the space.

Reyan.

Adhya straightened unconsciously, her fingers tightening around her sketchpad as he strode into view. Polished. Powerful. Every inch the ruthless CEO. His navy three-piece suit hugged his tall frame perfectly, and his sharp gaze immediately zeroed in on her.

His presence did something to her, something utterly infuriating.

"Are you ready, Miss Chauhan?" His deep voice sent a strange shiver down her spine.

Adhya forced a confident nod. "Of course, Mr. Malhotra. Always ready."

His dark eyes flickered with amusement before he turned toward the conference room. "Let's see if that's true."

Inside the boardroom, the Dior representatives sat poised, flipping through files as Adhya set up her sketches. Reyan took his usual place at the head of the table, commanding attention effortlessly.

Everything started smoothly. Adhya spoke about the inspiration behind the designs, channeling her passion for fashion into every word. The clients seemed intrigued.

But then—

"And these color palettes reflect the upcoming trends in—"

Her tablet screen suddenly went black.

Panic hit.

She tapped the screen repeatedly, but it refused to turn on. The presentation was on her tablet, and now it was dead.

For a second, her brain froze.

"Miss Chauhan?" one of the Dior execs prompted, raising a perfectly arched brow.

Oh god.

Reyan sighed, and without missing a beat, he smoothly continued, flipping his own tablet toward the clients. "What Miss Chauhan is trying to explain is how these colors align with Dior's signature aesthetic—"

He took over flawlessly, masking her blunder as if it never happened.

Adhya exhaled in relief, but she also felt like a fool.

The moment the meeting ended, Adhya tried sneaking away, but Reyan's voice stopped her cold.

"In my office. Now."

Uh-oh.

She followed him reluctantly, stepping into his pristine, intimidating workspace. He stood by the window, hands in his pockets, looking annoyingly perfect as he turned to face her.

"You weren't prepared." His voice was calm but laced with authority.

"I was prepared," she argued. "Technology failed me. Not my fault."

Reyan exhaled sharply, stepping closer. "You should always have a backup, Adhya. If I hadn't stepped in, you would have humiliated yourself."

She folded her arms. "Oh, so now you're my knight in shining armor?"

His lips twitched. "Hardly. You're my responsibility now. Whether I like it or not."

Adhya huffed. "Well, if you're so responsible, maybe you should have warned me about our marriage before my dad dropped that bomb on me."

His expression darkened. "Would it have changed anything?"

She faltered. "No, but—"

"Exactly." He leaned in slightly, his gaze intense, unreadable. "And for the record, this company is my priority. Not you."

Her stomach twisted—whether in irritation or something else, she wasn't sure.

"Great," she shot back. "Then don't treat me like a fragile doll. I don't need special treatment."

His lips curled into something almost amused. "That's good. Because you won't get any."

The air crackled between them.

Adhya tilted her chin defiantly. "Fine. Challenge accepted."

She turned on her heel and walked out, but not before catching the way his lips curved—like he was looking forward to it.