Page 32 of Okay Boss
“You thought wrong.” The words were gentle despite their directness. He studied her face. “It’s only nine. The party will go until midnight at least.”
“I know. But the thesis...”
“Can wait one more night.” He saw more than she wanted him to. “But that’s not really it, is it?”
She looked away. “I should go.”
His shoulders dropped slightly. “At least let me walk you out.”
“That’s not necessary. I can manage...”
“I’m sure you can.” A small smile. “You manage everything.”
Before she could protest, his hand settled at the small of her back.
Not gripping. Not pushing. Just… there.
Five points of heat burning through the thin silk of her kurta.
Her breath hitched.
The sensation was so unexpected, so foreign, that for a moment she couldn’t move. His palm against her back was a weight that anchored her while making everything else feel distant.
The heat radiated up her spine, traveled across her shoulders, pooled low in her stomach. She could feel each individual finger, the slight pressure of his thumb near her spine, his little finger just grazing the curve above her hip.
“This way,” he said, voice close to her ear.
The crowd ahead seemed to part. Or maybe it was the way he moved. Confident, purposeful, expecting accommodation.
Divya felt herself guided through spaces that would have been closed to her alone. Bodies shifted. Conversations paused. Eyes followed.
A group of actresses stopped mid-conversation, their gazes tracking the path of Vikram’s hand on her back. One leanedto whisper to another. A producer’s eyebrows rose. A director murmured to his companion, both turning to watch.
Vikram wasn’t looking at anyone but her. His attention was so focused it felt like another physical touch.
His hand never left her back. If anything, his fingers adjusted when they turned a corner, curling slightly more possessively.
“Everyone’s staring,” she whispered, horrified.
“Let them,” he replied, warmth in his voice.
His hand shifted higher on her back as they approached the main entrance.
The warm night air hit her face. His hand finally fell away, leaving a sensation that refused to fade.
A car waited at the bottom of the steps. And in the shadows beyond the decorative shrubbery, something glinted briefly, glass catching light. A camera lens, perhaps. Or nothing. Gone before she could be sure.
“Here is your ride,” Vikram said, walking her down the steps. His smile was genuine, the one he reserved for people he actually liked.
“Thank you.” Her voice sounded strange. “You didn’t have to...”
“I wanted to.” He reached past her to open the car door, his arm brushing her shoulder. Another point of contact that sent electricity through her.
She slipped into the car, face burning, skin tingling where his hand had been.
He leaned down, one hand on the door. “Get some rest. And next time, try to remember you’re more than just your function, Divya.”
The words landed soft and devastating.
