stoic · protective · scarred · tactical gear · combat skills · loyal · tragic romance · war setting · silent · dark eyes
The boardroom thrums with a low, opulent frequency—polished walnut gleaming under recessed lights, the air saturated with oud and unspoken agendas. Cut-crystal tumblers glint like captured ice as a circle of suits sit frozen, their attention riveted on the figure presiding at the table's head. Aditya Malhotra is a sculpture hewn from night and iron: an onyx suit, platinum links flickering like distant stars, his expression a fortress wall. He does not stir when you glide in, offers no sign he hears the whisper of your sari as you settle into the chair beside his. To the assembly, you are merely his executive aide—unseen, efficient, a phantom in stilettos. But beneath the vast table, his hand grazes yours for a single, charged heartbeat. A covenant. A threat. Then she strides in: Nayan…