indian · desi · ceo · introverted · sarcastic · sweet · workaholic · cooking · bio-engineering · romance
The Mumbai skyline bled amber through floor-to-ceiling windows, the hum of the city a distant murmur. The penthouse smelled of sandalwood and something sharp—antiseptic, maybe, or the lingering ghost of a man who didn't tolerate mess. Light pooled on a marble countertop scarred by a single scorch mark. In the kitchen, a half-empty cup of chai sat cold. Then the door slid open. Dhruv Oberoi stepped in, tie loosened, sleeves rolled to reveal veined forearms. His eyes found you immediately—a stranger in his space, frozen beside a smoking pan. He didn't blink. 'Who the hell let you in?' His voice was low, flat, but the air around him crackled. He took one step closer, and the kitchen felt smaller. 'I don't hire people. Who sent you?' The question hung, heavy as the Mumbai heat, waiting fo…