Chapter - 34
Shivanya ~
By the time I reached the office the next morning, my ID card almost slipped out of my hand at the gate because I couldn't stop thinking about stupid things.
Like the way his hand had found mine in the dark.
Like the warmth of his lips against my forehead.
I tapped my card, walked in, and tried very hard to remember that here, this building with glass walls and polished floors and people walking around with files and laptops, he was not the man whose hand I fell asleep holding.
Here, he was my boss.
The one everyone was slightly afraid of, even when he didn't raise his voice.
"Good morning, ma'am," the receptionist greeted me.
I smiled. "Good morning."
I adjusted the strap of my bag, took the elevator up, and stepped into the corridor. The air conditioning felt extra cold against my skin, or maybe that was just nerves. Then, I made my way to my cabin and kept my bag on the chair, switched on my laptop and tried to focus on my inbox. HR reminders. Court listing updates. A client asking for a quick call that would definitely not be quick.
I was halfway through typing a reply when the desk phone rang.
"Hello?" I answered, balancing the receiver between my shoulder and ear while my fingers hovered over the keyboard.
"My office now, Sunshine." came Vihaan's voice. Short, clipped, all business.
My spine straightened automatically.
"Yes," I said. "I'll be right there."
He didn't say anything else. The line clicked.
I placed the receiver back in its cradle and blew out a slow breath.
Right.
Work mode.
Vihaan at home and Vihaan at work were not opposites, but different versions of the same man. One teased me until I didn't know where to look, kissed my forehead, and told me not to hide from him. The other could make senior partners from other firms nervous just by being quiet.
And both of them somehow lived in my head at the same time.
Very helpful.
He had left home very early today, I was still asleep. Maa had told me that he had reached the office by seven thirty because of some call from the United States.
I grabbed my notepad and a pen, smoothed my shirt even though it was perfectly fine, and walked towards his office and I could hear his voice before I even reached the door. Calm and low but carrying enough authority that you felt it even from outside.
"Yes, but you cannot tell the board that without written advice." he was saying, probably into the small Bluetooth earpiece he wore during calls. "Send me the revised note. I will look at it this afternoon."
I paused at the half-open door and knocked lightly.
"Come in." he said.
I stepped inside.
He was standing near the window, jacket off, white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, phone in one hand, a file in the other. Morning light filtered through the blinds, cutting across his face and leaving one side shadowed.
"Yes. I will have my secretary call you later." he said and disconnected.
He took off the earpiece, set it on the table, and finally gave me his full attention.
"Close the blinds," he said.
I blinked. "Sorry?"
He nodded once toward the glass wall facing the corridor. "Blinds."
"Okay."
I walked over and pulled the cord down and when I turned back, he was sitting behind his desk, one forearm resting on the table, the other hand tapping a file lightly.
There was already a file open in front of him, with a bright sticky note on top that had my name written in his handwriting.
"Sit." he said.
I sat opposite him, balancing my notepad on my knee.
He pushed the file slightly toward me. "Read the first page."
I leaned forward and looked.
"Scheme of Arrangement and Merger – Arunachal Foods Private Limited with Veridian Retail Limited."
I read it twice, then looked up. "Merger?"
"Merger." he confirmed. "Complicated, high value and in this draft, poorly done."
His tone was flat, but the slight edge in it made me want to laugh.
"Who drafted it?" I asked.
"Somebody who likes copy-paste more than they like thinking." he said. He flipped a couple of pages, showing me red marks all over the margins. "Our client is Arunachal Foods. Veridian's lawyers sent this draft over yesterday. The board wants to move fast, but this" he tapped the document once "is not going anywhere near court the way it is."
"Okay," I said slowly. "So we are rewriting it?"
"Restructuring it." he corrected. "Fixing it. Making sure it holds up in front of theNCLT, does not explode three years from now when people decide they cannot deal with the merger and want a harmful way out."
"Simple." I said under my breath.
He heard that. Of course he did. His mouth twitched very slightly, but he didn't comment.
"Client meeting tomorrow," he went on. "Joint call today. We have very little time and a lot of people who think they know what they are doing."
He nodded at the file again. "I want you to co-lead this with me."
I thought I heard that wrong.
"Co-lead?" I repeated. "With you?"
"No," he said dryly. "With the plant in your cabin." Then, before I could react, he added, "Yes, with me. You and I. Lead on this."
"I've never co-led something this big," I said, words tumbling out before I could stop them. "I've always been assisting or handling smaller matters, I don't...."
"You've handled enough parts of deals like this to know how they work." he interrupted, calm and unbothered by my panic. "And you notice things other people miss. That matters more to me than how many years you've been here."
"I'm not senior enough, sir." I tried again, because apparently my brain had decided today was a great day to argue with him.
He leaned back in his chair a little, eyes not leaving my face.
"This is my firm," he said, his tone still not harsh, just steady. "If I want you to co-lead a merger with me, you are senior enough. Do you understand?"
I swallowed. "Yes."
His gaze dipped to my mouth for a fraction of a second, then came back to my eyes.
"You look like someone just told you your vacation has been cancelled." he said. "Not like someone who just got trusted with a major transaction."
"I don't take vacations." I protested.
"Exactly," he replied. "So stop making that face. It doesn't suit you, sunshine."
"I'm just aware this is a lot," I muttered.
"Good," he said. "It is a lot. I would not give it to you if I didn't think you could handle it."
My heart did a small, ridiculous flip at that.
I dropped my gaze to the file so I wouldn't have to deal with how that made me feel.
"How are we splitting it?" I asked, trying to sound more like a lawyer and less like a person whose chest had just gone warm.
"You will handle employees and minority shareholders," he said. "I'll handle lenders, regulators and the board politics that will come with it."
I nodded, my brain already trying to organise tasks. "Do we know how many employees there are?"
"On paper? Yes," he replied. "In reality? We'll find out. You'll work with a competent associate on the employee data and communication plan. For minority shareholders, you'll take the lead with Rohan. He is good with numbers and you are good with people. Between you, I want something that looks fair and reads like a human being wrote it."
"And timelines?" I asked.
"The board wants to send shareholder notices in less than three weeks. Tribunal filing as soon as we have a scheme that won't get laughed out of the room."
"So," I said slowly, "basically... insane."
"Accurate." he answered, the ghost of a smile pulling at his mouth. "We're doing an initial internal meeting with the team at eleven. Before that, I want you to go through this draft once. Not as a lawyer. As a person."
I frowned. "As a person?"
"Yes," he said. "Read it the way an employee would. Or a minority shareholder. Someone who doesn't know the law and doesn't care about Section numbers. Mark everything that feels vague, unfair, or like someone is hiding something behind language."
"That's different." I said quietly.
"Most people read these things and just assume lawyers know what they're doing," he said. "I don't want that here. I want this scheme to make sense outside of a courtroom too."
There was something about that that made my chest tighten in a good way.
"Okay," I said. "I'll do that."
"Good," he replied. "You have a little over an hour before the meeting. Take the file to your cabin, go through it once and be back here at eleven. We'll go to the conference room together."
I nodded and stood, pulling the file closer and left.
For the next hour, my world was just black letters on white pages and a bright yellow highlighter.
I read the draft as if I was not a lawyer. As if I was one of the employees whose job description would be changed by a line buried on page twenty-six.
There were multiple references to legal jargons but very little about what that meant in actual lives.
There was a short paragraph about minority shareholders receiving fair value, but no clue what fair value meant, who would decide it, or what someone could do if they disagreed.
I marked all of it.
By the time my phone buzzed with a calendar reminder for the meeting, my copy of the draft looked like a battle had already taken place on it.
I straightened the pages, picked up my notepad, and walked back to his chamber.
The door was open this time.
He was already standing, sleeves rolled up, tablet in hand.
He glanced at the draft in my arms. "Anything worth panicking about?"
"A few things," I said. "Mostly for employees and minorities."
"So the important parts." he replied. "Good. Let's go."
We walked down the corridor together to the main conference room.
By the time we entered, most of the core team was already there. Rohan with his laptop open, glasses slightly crooked on his nose. Meera with a stack of colored sticky notes. Two more associates, one from tax, one from litigation, both with tired eyes and focused expressions.
The chatter died down as soon as Vihaan stepped in.
He had that effect everywhere from courtrooms, boardrooms, even our own conference room. He just walked in, and everyone became more alert.
He nodded once, took his seat at the head of the table and placed the tablet down.
"Let's begin." he said.
Everyone sat a little straighter.
"Quick background," he continued. "Arunachal Foods and Veridian Retail are proposing a merger. Veridian's lawyers sent this draft scheme yesterday. It is not usable. We have three weeks to turn this into something that is."
He glanced at me for a second. "Shivanya has gone through the draft from a non-legal perspective. We'll start with her observations, then move to lenders and tax."
The fact that he put my name there, first, in front of everyone... I felt it settle inside my chest like a warm stone.
I cleared my throat and tried to make my voice steady.
"The draft sounds nice on the surface," I began. "A lot of language about synergy and alignment. But there's very little clarity on what happens to the actual people involved."
"Employees?" Meera asked.
"Employees, yes," I said. "There's a line about alignment of roles and rationalisation of operations, but nothing concrete. No commitments about existing benefits, no timeline for communicating changes, nothing specific about relocated or redundant staff."
Meera nodded, already typing notes.
"If I worked there and read this," I went on, "I would assume it meant some people are going to lose their jobs and nobody wants to say it out loud yet."
Rohan winced slightly. "That... is probably accurate."
"Which is fine if it's the truth," I added. "But then they need a plan for how they're going to handle it. You can't just hide behind vague language and hope no one notices."
Vihaan's eyes were on me the whole time, his expression unreadable but attentive.
"Minority shareholders?" he asked.
"There's a clause that promises fair value for any dissenting shareholders," I said. "But it doesn't say fair according to what. No formula. No reference to an independent valuer. No explanation of process."
"So we need a clear mechanism." he said.
"Yes," I replied. "Something that tells a small shareholder if you don't like this, here is exactly what will happen, and here is what you can do, and here is how we'll decide what your share is worth."
"Good," he said simply. "You'll lead on that. Work with Rohan on the valuation methods."
Rohan nodded. "I can run the numbers and options. You can make sure it doesn't sound like a robot wrote it."
"I like robots." I joked.
"You don't talk like one, and that's the point." he replied, looking straight into my eyes with a sort of twinkle and his lips twitched upwards very slightly, humouring me.
A couple of people smiled.
"Employees will need a proper framework," Meera said. "Data first. Headcount, grades, locations, benefits. Then we can think about what kind of protections or commitments we want in the scheme."
"Correct," Vihaan said. "You and Shivanya will work together. She leads on approach. You execute and coordinate."
Meera shot me a small, encouraging smile.
"On lenders," Vihaan went on, turning slightly toward Rohan, "you've seen the basic numbers?"
"Yes, sir," Rohan replied. "Veridian is carrying more debt than the cover note suggests. On the face of it, it's manageable but we absolutely need full loan documentation. I've made a list of facilities and lenders from what little we have."
Veridian's lenders will not like surprises." Vihaan said. "Ask for the full set today itself. No summaries or selective extracts. I want every facility letter and security document on our system by tomorrow."
Rohan nodded. "I'll send the request right after this."
The tax associate ran through her points next. Stamp duty, capital gains, a few possible routes that might be cleaner in the long term but slower to execute.
Vihaan listened without interrupting, then summarised everything in three lines that somehow made the whole thing sound less complicated and more like a very intense checklist.
"That is where we are." he said finally, looking around the table. "We do not have the luxury of wasting time. Ask questions, even if you think they are basic. I would rather look at one stupid question today than one avoidable problem six months from now."
There were quiet nods around the table.
"We will speak to the client this evening," he added. "Until then, our only job is to understand this better than anyone else in the room. You know your roles. Keep me posted."
He glanced at the clock. "That's it."
Chairs scraped back, laptops closed and everyone got up to leave. I too gathered my notes, tucking the highlighted draft into the folder.
"Shivanya, wait." he said casually, just as I was about to step away from my chair.
I stopped at once.
The others filed out, one by one. A couple of them glanced between us, curious, but didn't say anything. It wasn't unusual for him to keep someone back after meetings.
The door clicked shut behind the last associate and we were alone.
He didn't move for a second. Just watched me across the length of the table, one hand resting on his tablet, the other lightly on the arm of his chair.
"You were steady," he said at last. "You didn't sound like this is your first time leading a seven hundred crore merger."
"I just... said what I thought," I replied. "Like you asked."
"You did more than that," he said. "You made everyone else actually think about people and not just numbers. That is not nothing."
I looked down at my notes, feeling my cheeks warm. "Thank you."
When I looked up again, his eyes were a little different. Still sharp, still focused, but softer in the way he was looking only at me now, not at the whole table.
"You know what my favourite part was?" he asked.
"You have a favourite part?" I answered, but my lips tugged despite myself.
"When you said if I worked there and read this," he said. "You put yourself in it. Most lawyers never do that. They stand outside and judge. You stepped in."
"I was just doing what you told me to." I said. "Read it as a person."
His mouth curved. "You usually over-achieve when I tell you to do something."
"That sounds like a complaint."
"It is the opposite of a complaint. It is the truth." he said quietly.
There was a small pause.
Then he stood.
"Come." he said, picking up his tablet. "Walk with me."
"Where?" I asked, frowning.
"Your cabin." he said simply. "I want to see those notes where you massacred the draft."
"I did not massacre it." I protested.
"We will see." he replied.
He opened the door and waited for me to step out first and as we walked side by side, he kept just enough distance that it looked professional, but I could still feel his presence like a solid line at my side. It was absurd how aware I was of the way his shoulder shifted when he walked, of the faint scent of his cologne every time the air conditioning moved the wrong way.
When we reached my cabin, he held the door open with one hand.
"After you." he said.
"Sir, this is my cabin." I muttered.
"And I am still your husband," he replied. "And your boss."
I narrowed my eyes at him and walked in.
He followed, closing the door behind him.
My cabin suddenly felt much smaller.
He glanced around once, taking everything in like he always did.
"Sit," he said.
I sat in my chair automatically.
He didn't take the visitor chair opposite me.
Instead, he came around to my side of the table and leaned one hand on the edge, close enough that if I shifted my elbow the wrong way, I'd brush against him.
I tried very hard not to shift.
"Show me." he said.
I pulled the draft toward the edge of the table.
He leaned over slightly, one hand braced near my laptop, the other resting on the back of my chair.
The back of my chair.
Which meant his fingers were a few inches from my shoulder.
He was close enough now that I could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the clean line of his throat with his tie knotted just right, the tiny crease at the corner of his mouth that appeared when he focused on something.
"This highlight?" he asked, pointing to a paragraph. "What bothered you here?"
"The part about optimising human resources." I said, glad to have something concrete to talk about. "It sounds cold. If they say this in their internal note maybe it's fine, but in the scheme that employees will read? It sounds like they're calling people assets they might discard."
His gaze skimmed the line again. "You are right. What would you say instead?"
"Something clear," I said. "If there will be changes, say there will be changes. If they will try to redeploy people before they let anyone go, say that. Don't pretend everyone is safe if they're not."
He was quiet for a second.
"Do you realise how rare that is?" he asked.
"What?" I looked up.
He was looking down at me, half-smile gone, expression serious.
"To sit here," he said slowly, "and tell me exactly what you think without softening it just because you're talking to me."
"I just care about this," I said, suddenly aware of how close he really was. "About how these things affect people and you are not allowed to say things like that to me in here."
"I know. That is one of the reasons I married you and Shivanya, I am allowed to say all kinds of things to you anywhere I want to, you are my wife." he whispered in my ear and my brain short-circuited for half a second.
"You can't say things like that in office," I blurted, before my filter could wake up.
His mouth curved, lazy and amused.
"I just did." he said.
"That's not the point." I muttered.
"What is the point, then?" he asked, his voice dropping a fraction. "That you don't like being reminded you're my wife when we are at work?"
"It's not that," I said quickly. "It's just people could walk in."
"I knocked," came a dry voice from outside, followed by a quick rap on the door.
I jumped.
Vihaan straightened, the movement so smooth I almost didn't see the shift from husband-who-teases to boss-who-terrifies.
"Come in," he said.
The door opened and Meera peeked in.
"Sorry to disturb," she said. "I just wanted to confirm whether we should loop in the internal communications consultant now or after the first call."
Her eyes flicked between us for a fraction of a second. It was subtle, but I saw it.
Saw the fact that Vihaan was standing a little too close to me.
Saw the draft on the table.
Saw my face, which I hoped didn't look as warm as it felt.
If Vihaan noticed any of that, he didn't show it.
"After the call," he said, tone smooth, easy. "We don't know yet what the client wants to say publicly. No point bringing in consultants until they have decided what truths they're willing to speak."
"Got it." she said.
She hesitated, then added, "The HR head from Arunachal confirmed a call at four. I've sent you the calendar invite."
"Good." he said. "Thank you."
She nodded and left.
The door clicked shut again.
Silence settled in the cabin, but it felt different now. Sharper. Charged.
"You were saying?" he asked calmly.
"I was saying you should not..." I stopped, because my brain had lost the original sentence halfway.
"Mention that I married you?" he offered.
"Yes." I said. "That."
He tilted his head slightly, considering me.
"It is a fact, Sunshine." he said. "Not a scandal."
"In this firm, it is very much a headline," I muttered. "They may not say it but they will assume things because I am your wife."
"Let them assume," he said simply. "We know the truth. You earned this file long before you shared my name."
"That's not how everyone sees it." I argued.
"That is how everyone will see it." he replied, "when I make it clear enough."
There was that certainty again. That absolute confidence that never felt like arrogance because he backed it with more work than anyone else in the room.
He watched my face, reading every flicker.
"You are worried," he said. "that they will think I favour you because you are my wife."
Heat crept up my neck.
"A little," I admitted. "Yes."
"And what if I do?" he asked.
I stared at him.
"At home," he clarified, eyes glinting very slightly. "What if I do favour you? What if I want to? Is that such a terrible thing, Shivanya?"
"I'm being serious, Mr. Raichand." I said.
"So am I, Mrs. Raichand," he replied. "At work, they will see this," he tapped the file again "for what it is. You earned it. I am not in the habit of risking a major deal just to indulge my personal life. They know that. And if anyone forgets, I will remind them."
The way he said I will remind them made a small shiver go down my spine.
"You can't fight everyone all the time." I said softly.
"I don't need to fight everyone," he answered. "People here trust my judgment. The few who don't will see you work and change their minds, or they will stay quiet. Either way, it is not your problem."
My chest felt tight, in a way that had nothing to do with work.
"You always sound so sure." I murmured.
"I am sure," he said plainly. "About you. About us. About this case. I don't say things I don't mean, Shivanya. That is not who I am."
His hand was still resting on the back of my chair.
He tapped his fingers once, lightly, almost like he was reminding himself to move, and then slid his hand down, brushing the fabric of my sleeve for a second.
The touch was small, quick, completely invisible if someone opened the door at the wrong time.
But I felt it like a line of heat from my shoulder to my fingers.
"You should go back to your cabin." I said, even though that sentence made no sense, since we were in mine.
"I should," he agreed. "And yet I am standing here, being told off by my own wife in her office."
"I am not telling you off." I said, scandalised.
"You are," he said. "A little. It's fine. I don't mind."
"How generous." I muttered.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
He leaned in just a fraction, enough that I had to tilt my head back slightly to keep looking at him.
"Do you know what I mind?" he asked softly.
I swallowed. "What?"
"When you let other people's doubts become your own," he said. "You are too good at what you do to shrink just because someone might whisper something that you think is a scandal but it is nothing but the truth."
I held his gaze for a moment, feeling more exposed than I ever did in a courtroom.
"I'm trying." I said.
"I know," he replied. "And you are doing better than you think."
We stayed like that for a beat longer, neither of us moving, both of us very aware of how close this was to a line, and how neither of us quite wanted to step back from it.
Then he straightened, just a little.
"Also," he added, as if it was an afterthought, "you look very attractive when you argue in meetings. It is highly inconvenient."
My mouth fell open.
"You cannot say that." I hissed.
"You really like telling me what I can and cannot say today." he observed.
"Because you keep saying the wrong things!!" I shot back.
"They are only wrong because you insist on pretending you don't like hearing them." he said calmly.
"I do not...."
He gave me a look and I shut my mouth.
"There it is," he said softly. "You blush, you stop talking, and then you pretend nothing happened. Classic pattern."
"Maybe I should go back to overthinking in silence." I muttered.
"I like this version better," he said. "The one that talks back."
His phone buzzed on the table then.
He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting back to work in an instant.
"Board secretary," he said. "I have to take this."
"Of course," I said, suddenly grateful for the interruption.
He stepped away from my chair, giving me space again.
But just before he reached the door, he looked back over his shoulder.
"Oh, and Shivanya?"
"Yes?"
"In the next team meeting," he said, "do not call me sir every time you look at me. Once is enough. Any more than that and people will suspect you're overcompensating."
I stared at him. "What am I supposed to call you then?"
He smirked, a slow, unapologetic thing.
"Try just looking," he said. "You'll manage."
I glared at him.
His eyes warmed in that way they only did for me.
"Get some lunch." he added, voice dipping just a little. "And drink water. You forget when you're buried in drafts."
"I do not." I protested automatically.
"Sunshine," he warned.
I exhaled. "Fine. I'll eat."
"Good," he said.
Then he left, phone already at his ear, his voice shifting neatly back into that controlled tone that made people on the other side of the line sit up straighter.
The door closed behind him and my cabin felt both too full and too empty at the same time.
I slumped back in my chair for a second, pressing my palms to my warm face.
This was madness, how does he so easily flirt with me!
But as I picked up my pen again and started marking the next brutal clause in the draft, I caught myself smiling.
I maybe losing it, just a little maybe.
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