Page 1 of Okay Boss
Chapter 1
Vikram Khanna stood before the full-length mirror in his bedroom, adjusting his midnight blue Tom Ford bowtie. He tilted his chin slightly. Left profile. Right profile. The intense stare that had sold magazine covers and perfume ads. Satisfied, he gave his reflection a small wink.
Mirror time was not vanity. It was an inspection. When you were the brand, you made sure the brand looked flawless.
The tuxedo fit him perfectly. Three fittings. Custom tailoring. The shoulders sat sharp, the waist tapered clean, the trousers falling just right over polished Italian shoes. No one would notice the shoes on the red carpet, but Vikram believed details separated stars from legends.
“National Film Award for Best Leading Man…” he said softly, lowering his voice, extending his hand as if accepting a trophy. Then he shifted into his well-known half-smile, the one that made girls scream at airport arrivals. “It’s an honour just to be nominated.”
His phone kept buzzing on the bed. Messages from his PR team. Early reviews calling his performance powerful. Fans flooding his social media. He glanced once, then ignored it.
Success was not a surprise.
It was the standard.
“Vikram! The car is waiting!” His mother’s voice carried up the marble staircase, elegant even when shouting. “At this rate,you’ll walk the red carpet alone because Riya will have already gone inside!”
“Coming, Mom!” he replied, but he stayed in place for one more second. He loosened the bow tie slightly. Formal, but not stiff. Perfect.
“Vikram Khanna!” His mother again, closer this time.
He finally moved, picking up his phone and jogging down the curved staircase, taking the last three steps in one jump like he had done since he was ten.
Kavita Khanna stood at the bottom, wrapped in an emerald silk saree that caught the light beautifully. Even when annoyed, she looked composed. Silver streaks lined her neatly tied hair, and her expression held equal parts irritation and pride.
“Thirty-three years old and still not punctual.” She adjusted his already perfect bowtie.
“The film doesn’t start for another two hours, and the star never arrives early.” Vikram kissed her cheek. “And you look stunning. Trying to steal my spotlight?”
The compliment landed. Her mouth twitched, fighting a smile. “Your charm might work on your fans, but I changed your diapers.”
“And now I make you proud every day.” He grinned.
“In the dictionary, pride should come after punctuality,” she muttered, but her tone had softened.
The study door opened, and Harshit Khanna emerged, the evening newspaper folded under one arm. Unlike his wife, who dressed for every dinner as though photographers might arrive,Harshit wore simple linen trousers and a white kurta. Calm. Observant. Always thinking three steps ahead.
“You’re late,” he said, without emotion.
“Strategically late,” Vikram corrected, adjusting his cufflinks. “The film won’t start without its hero.”
Harshit let that pass. “Did Prerna finalise tomorrow’s interview schedule?”
A beat of silence.
“Prerna quit yesterday.” Vikram checked his watch.
“Another one?” Kavita shook her head. “That’s the eighth in two years.”
“Ninth if you count the one who lasted three days,” Harshit corrected.
Vikram shrugged. “It wasn’t working.”
Kavita studied him. “Or she fell in love with you?”
He didn’t answer directly. “I offered a fair settlement. Three months’ salary.”
“Expensive habit,” Harshit remarked. “What about tomorrow?”
