Page 10 of Okay Boss
She sat immediately, still on the edge of the cushion, spine straight, hands folded in her lap. Every nerve in her body alert.
For another long moment, he just studied her. Up close, she could see the tiny scar near his right eyebrow that makeup artists usually covered for film. The slight asymmetry of his features somehow made him more attractive. The way one corner of his mouth naturally turned up, giving him a continuous hint of amusement even when his eyes remained serious.
This was the face that launched a thousand brand endorsements. That made teenage girls plaster posters on their walls. That commanded hundred crores per film.
And it was currently focused entirely on her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
“You’re Mrs. Menon’s recommendation.”
It wasn’t the question she’d prepared for, but Divya’s mind finally kicked back into gear. This wasn’t a god or a celebrity sitting across from her. This was her potential employer, and she had a job to do.
The thought steadied her.
“Yes, sir. Divya Mathur.” She resisted the urge to extend her hand for a shake. Mrs. Menon had mentioned that Vikram didn’t like unnecessary physical contact with staff. “I am completing my Mass Communication degree under her guidance.”
“And now you want to work in Bollywood.” Again, not a question.
“I want to work in media management, sir. This internship is part of my MA requirements.”
He leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees. The position made him seem both more casual and more intimidating somehow. “Call me Vikram. ‘Sir’ makes me feel like my father.”
“Yes, sir… I mean, yes.” She adjusted her glasses with her knuckle, a nervous habit she couldn’t control.
His eyes tracked the movement. “Do you know why my last assistants quit?”
Divya had prepared for this. “I understand the position has high work demands,” she replied calmly.
A small smile touched his lips. “That’s a diplomatic answer. Let me be less diplomatic.” He settled back against the sofa. “My assistants quit because they couldn’t handle the hours. One of them couldn’t deal with my schedule changing every thirty minutes. One of them found me difficult to work with when I’m preparing for intense roles.”
He paused, studying her reaction. Divya kept her expression neutral.
“And the last two,” he continued, voice dropping slightly, “developed feelings they couldn’t manage professionally.”
The statement hung in the air between them. Divya understood it for what it was. Not arrogance but a warning.
“I see,” she said evenly.
“Do you?”
“Yes. You’re clarifying expectations. And limits.” She held his gaze. “I’m here for my MA internship requirement and practical experience. Mrs. Menon recommended me because she believes I can handle pressure. I’m not here for anything else.”
For a second, something shifted in his expression. Surprise, perhaps. Or approval.
“Good,” he said after a pause. “You’ll shadow me for a week. Learn the rhythm. After that, you’ll manage my schedule, coordinate with my PR team, handle communication with production houses. You make sure I’m where I need to be, with what I need.”
“I understand.”
“Most days begin at six. Some end past midnight. Weekends aren’t guaranteed.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
He studied her again, more carefully this time. “You live in Andheri East, correct?”
The fact that he knew this unsettled her slightly. “Yes.”
“That’s a long commute at early hours. We’ll arrange a driver.”
“That’s not nec...”
