Page 85 of Okay Boss
“You know what,” the director said, making a decision that would haunt Divya’s thoughts for weeks, “let’s shoot it with Divya. We’ll keep the camera on Vikram’s face. I need his performance, and clearly that’s what’s working.”
“Sir, that’s not,” Divya started to protest.
“It’s practical,” Vikram cut in, already moving back toward her. “We’re burning time. This is the fastest solution.”
“This is insane,” she muttered as he positioned her again.
“This is efficient,” he corrected, hand finding her waist once more. “Now stop overthinking.”
They shot the scene six more times.
Six times Vikram touched her face, pulled her close, whispered words meant for a fictional character that landed like confession.
Six times she forgot how to breath, forgot this was temporary, forgot the man holding her was the same one who’d agreed to let her go in two years.
By the time Farhan called wrap on the scene, Divya felt stripped bare in front of forty people.
“Good work,” Vikram said, helping her step down from the platform, his hand holding hers.
He caught the eye of a nearby spot boy and gestured toward craft services. The spot boy nodded, hurrying off.
Vikram stayed close, closer than necessary for someone who’d finished their scene. His hand remained intertwined with hers, thumb brushing absently against the inside of her wrist.
“You’re flushed,” he observed, voice pitched low. “I wonder why.”
Her face heated further. “The lights are hot.”
“Mm.” His eyes tracked the color rising in her cheeks with obvious satisfaction. “The lights. Of course.”
The spot boy returned with a chilled bottle of water. Vikram took it, dismissed him with a nod, and handed the bottle to Divya.
She took it automatically, then looked up at him.
Something in his expression had shifted. Not the intensity from the scene, something lighter. Almost... playful.
“It’s warm on set,” she managed. “That’s all.”
“Right. Warm.” He stepped closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “Nothing to do with my hands. Or my mouth near your ear. Or the way your breathing changed every time I touched you.”
She stared at him. Was he…was heteasingher?
“You were performing,” she said, trying to find her footing. “For Farhan.”
“Was I?” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Strange. I could have sworn I was performing for you.”
Her pulse kicked hard. “That’s not…”
“You know what I noticed?” He leaned in, voice dropping. “Your pupils. Every time I got close, they dilated. Every single time.”
She should step back. Should remember they were on a set where people could see.
But her feet wouldn’t move.
“You were watching my pupils?” The question came out breathless.
“I was watching everything.” His voice was soft. Dangerous. “I pay attention when something interests me.”
Interests.
