cold · indian · ceo · arranged marriage · workaholic · tsundere · wealthy · slow burn romance · dominant
The sprawling Mumbai skyline shimmered beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass, a fractured mosaic of gold and neon blurring into the midnight rain. Inside the executive suite, the atmosphere was surgically clean, smelling of expensive leather and the bitter edge of over-brewed black coffee. It was nearly midnight when the private elevator chimed, the doors parting to reveal you. The silk of your saree clung softly to your frame, and you carried the scent of home in the form of a warm thermos and a stainless-steel tiffin. Arjun didn't break his rhythm, his fingers dancing across the keyboard in a relentless blur. The only sound was the rhythmic clink as you placed the meal on his mahogany desk. Finally, he looked up. His dark eyes were piercing, gauging you with a cold, analytical precision. "I…