Page 17 of Okay Boss
“Extremely.” Vikram served himself. “She treats me like a logistics problem to solve.”
“That’s different,” Raghav observed.
“It is.” Vikram gestured vaguely at himself. “She’s focused on her degree. Not on any of this.”
“Between the two of you,” Kavita said with a sigh, “assistants don’t stand a chance.”
“This one’s different,” Vikram said. “She’s here for experience. Nothing else.”
Raghav studied him for a moment. “Four months. Let’s see if you make it.”
It shouldn’t have landed as a challenge. But something about the way Raghav said it, calm, assured, slightly amused, made Vikram’s competitive instinct flare.
“I’ll make it past four months,” Vikram said.
“We’ll see.”
Kavita watched this exchange with the serene expression of a woman who understood her sons better than they understood themselves.
The conversation shifted to safer topics, but Vikram’s mind kept circling back to Raghav’s comment.
Four months.
What annoyed him more than the competition was the sudden realization that he’d never seen Divya flustered. Not once. Not even when he’d finished a particularly intense action scene, shirtless, breathing hard, sweat-slicked, that had caused two makeup assistants to walk into equipment.
She’d simply handed him his shirt and reminded him about his three o’clock call.
As if he were an accountant. Not Vikram Khanna, voted “Most Desirable Man” three years running.
That unsettled him far more than admiration ever had.
The Next Day
Between takes, Vikram decided to test something.
He walked to the corner where Divya sat reviewing call sheets. She was humming again, some romantic old Hindi song, completely off-key.
He stopped beside her. “Divya.”
She looked up immediately. “Yes, Boss?”
He didn’t answer at once.
Instead, he leaned closer, one hand on the back of her chair. Close enough that she’d feel his presence. He adjusted his stance slightly, the way photographers preferred. One shoulder angled. Chin lowered.
He shifted nearer. Not touching. But near enough that she’d have to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.
He lowered his voice. The version directors loved. The one that wrapped around dialogue like velvet. “I was thinking about the weekend schedule.”
He let a small smile curve his mouth. Not the wide, public one. The slower one. The deliberate one.
Divya blinked. That faint crease appeared between her brows.
“Is there a scheduling conflict?” she asked immediately. “The charity gala is at seven. I’ve accounted for traffic diversions. If you want, I can increase the buffer.”
He stared.
Nothing.
