Diya stood in the kitchen, staring at the empty countertop.

> What should I even make?

What if he doesn't like it... and he actually "eats" me? 😳

She scratched her head nervously.

> "Soch Diya, soch! Kuch toh soch..."

And then suddenly-

"Idea!"

Without wasting a second, she turned around and ran toward Aryan's room.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, laptop open, typing something - focused and sharp.

> "Sir..." she called softly.

Aryan didn't look up.

> "Hmm?"

> "What do you like in breakfast?" she asked politely, standing like a student in front of a principal.

> "Bread. Omelette. Cold coffee," he replied casually, still typing.

Diya blinked.

> "Sir... mujhe ande todhna nahi aata..."

Aryan stopped typing.

He turned his head slightly, smirk forming.

> "What?"

"Okay fine... I'll make the omelette, tum coffee bana lo."

In the kitchen again - Aryan picked up an egg.

Diya stepped closer, curious.

> "Sikha do na sir... kaise todte hain..."

He raised an eyebrow, then looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Without warning - he took the egg and gently tapped it on her head before cracking it open into the bowl.

> "Bas aise," he said casually, like nothing just happened.

> "Sirrrr!!" she pouted.

Aryan laughed.

Then he started cutting onions... but suddenly-

> Slice!

"Ah-!"

Blood started dripping from his finger.

Diya panicked, rushing toward him.

> "Sir, rukhiye!"

She took his hand and without thinking - brought his finger to her lips... and softly placed it in her mouth, sucking the wound gently to stop the bleeding.

Aryan froze.

> Her lips.

Her tongue.

Her breath against his skin.

Something snapped inside him.

His eyes darkened as he looked down at her.

> What was she doing?

What was he letting her do?

He slowly pulled his finger out, but didn't move away.

Instead, he used that same finger and gently traced it across her bottom lip, smearing the last drop of blood.

Diya's eyes widened.

The

ir faces inches apart.

His breath heavy now.

And then...

Aryan moved closer to Diya - so close that she could feel his warm breath brushing against her skin.

Panicking slightly, Diya tried to take a step back. But Aryan caught her wrist and pulled her closer, their bodies almost touching.

Now, he could feel the softness of her chest pressing lightly against him... and the fast rhythm of her breath.

He was losing control.

Aryan slowly leaned in, his lips just inches away from hers.

Diya froze. She could feel the heat, the tension, the desire.

> "S-Sir... please..." she whispered, barely audible.

But Aryan didn't stop.

Just when his lips were about to touch hers,

Diya pushed him back suddenly - her voice loud and shaken.

> "Sir, leave me! Ye kya keh rahe ho aap?!"

Aryan blinked, reality hitting him. His face turned cold.

> "You're raising your voice on me?" he said, voice low and dangerous.

> "No sir," Diya replied, breathing heavily. "But what were you trying to do...?"

Aryan smirked bitterly.

> "It's called tit for tat. You touched me without permission ... when you took my finger in your mouth.

Now you know how it feels. Don't do it again."

Diya looked down, stunned.

> "Okay sir..." she said quietly, eyes avoiding his.

Aryan turned and walked into his room, slamming the door behind.

Inside, he sat on his bed, jaw clenched.

> "How dare she push me? Did she just say no to my kiss? No one says no to Aryan Khan..."

His eyes were burning with anger...

and something even darker.

After a few minutes, Diya went to Aryan's room and knocked on the door.

> "Sir, breakfast is ready."

Because before that intense kiss moment, Aryan had already broken the eggs.

> "Okay, I'm coming," Aryan replied.

He walked over to the dining table and sat down. They both started eating in silence. Diya glanced at him nervously and finally spoke.

> "Sir, I am sorry... sir ap bura mat mano please sir

..." Aryan looked at her.....

He walked over to the dining table and sat down. They both started eating in silence. Diya glanced at him nervously and finally spoke.

> "Sir, I am sorry... sir ap bura mat mano please sir..."

> "Okay," Aryan replied shortly, not showing much expression.

Still uneasy, Diya tried to make conversation again.

> "Can I ask you something, sir?"

> "Okay, ask."

> "Why are you alone in this apartment?"

Aryan took a sip of his cold coffee and calmly answered,

> "You don't know? Mannt is under construction, that's why me and my family have temporarily shifted here.

And one more thing - everyone in my family is a working person. They're all busy."

> "Ooo h acha esi baat," Diya replied in a very understanding tone.

Aryan stood up and handed her a document - 5 full pages.

> "This is my schedule... and yours too. I've written down every responsibility clearly. Read it properly."

Diya sat down and started reading through the pages.

Meetings... PR handling... wardrobe planning... social coordination...

And then - she reached the last page.

Suddenly, her eyes widened. Her voice trembled.

> "Sirrr... really? You???"

She looked up at Aryan in complete disbelief.

Aryan gave a slight smirk, leaned back in his chair, and said,

> "Yes. That part is also important. If you want to be my manager... you'll have to manage everything."

While flipping through the schedule, Diya's eyes stopped at one shocking line:

"Work hours: 18 to 20 hours daily. Manager must be present full-time."

She looked up, wide-eyed.

> "Sir... 18-20 hours? Aap seriously expect kar rahe ho ki main itni der aapke saath rahun?"

"What about my sleep? My time?"

Aryan leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips.

> "Don't worry, main tumhari neend mein bhi madad karunga..."

"And Diya, no arguments. This is the last time I'm asking - will you accept this responsibility or should I find someone else?"

A sudden tension filled the room.

> "No, sir... I-I'm okay. I'll stay," she replied, almost breathlessly.

Diya got up from the table and started walking toward the kitchen. Her mind was spinning, but she was trying to focus.

Suddenly - cling!

A spoon slipped from the empty plate she was carrying and clattered loudly on the floor.

Aryan, who was still sitting at the dining table, immediately turned at the sound.

As Diya bent down to pick up the spoon, her dupatta betrayed her again - it slipped off her shoulder.

This time... her cleavage was clearly visible.

She didn't even realize.

She simply picked up the spoon and walked into the kitchen like nothing had happened.

But Aryan... Aryan wasn't so unaffected.

He was frozen for a moment. Staring. Lost.

Then he slowly stood up... and walked toward her.

His eyes-dark, hungry-didn't blink once.

His thoughts?

> "No one's home. She's here. Just me and her. Alone. And she doesn't even know what she's doing to me..."

His footsteps were slow, heavy with desire.

He was getting closer.

Closer to Diya.

And she had no idea what storm was walking up behind her.

Diya was washing her hands in the kitchen when suddenly... she felt someone right behind her.

A warm breath brushed against her ear.

She turned quickly, taking a step back in surprise.

Aryan was right there.

He didn't say anything. He just reached around her, his hand brushing slightly against her waist as he turned on the tap and started washing his hands.

Diya froze for a moment. Then she realized... he was just washing his hands. Nothing more.

He stepped back calmly and asked with a smirk,

"Why do you get so scared every time I come a little close?"

She stayed quiet.

"Let me guess... strict boyfriend?" he teased.

"No sir, I don't have a boyfriend," she replied, a little nervous.

"Oh? Seriously? So you broke up or what?"

"No... I never had one."

He looked at her, clearly surprised.

"Not because I didn't want to," she added softly, "I just studied in girls' schools and even my college was all girls. I never really got the chance."

Aryan chuckled.

"So... what about now?"

Diya looked down.

"I don't know how to talk to guys... or how to connect with them."

There was a pause.

Then Aryan asked in a low voice,

"Diya... are you a virgin?"

She blushed hard.

"S-sir... what kind of question is that?! I told you, I never had a boyfriend. So obviously..."

He laughed lightly, eyes still locked on her.

"That's good. Very good."

He stepped closer again.

"I can help you," he said smoothly. "I Will Teach you how to understand men... how to keep them happy."

She looked confused.

"Sir, I really don't get what you mean."

He leaned in just a little more and whispered,

"It's not hard to understand... you just have to make him a little... harder."

Diya froze.

"W-what?! What are you talking about?!"

Aryan didn't explain.

He just smiled

Aryan was too smart - every word, every question, every look... it was all a game.

And Diya? She didn't even realize she had already lost the first round.

He had learned everything he wanted to know about her - her past, her present... even her innocence.

And he was loving every second of it.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Ding-dong.

Aryan smirked and said casually,

"Ah... I guess the house helpers are here."

He turned back to Diya with that same unreadable expression.

"Alright Diya, you can go now."

"Your real work starts tomorrow... sharp 7 AM. So sleep well tonight. You're gonna need it."

He winked.

She gulped.

And walked out - clueless that the game had only just begun.

Diya was about to leave when Aryan said, "If you want, I can drop you home."

"No sir, it's okay! Main chali jaungi," she replied, trying to sound confident.

But Aryan smirked, "I wasn't asking, Diya. I'm telling you-I'll drop you. Wait a second."

He picked up his car keys and walked toward his car like a complete boss.

Aryan, obviously a rich guy, had a sleek and expensive car. Diya couldn't help but admire it. "Ooooh! Ye aapki car hai, sir? Wow 😳 kitni beautiful hai! Bhout expensive hogi na?"

Aryan chuckled. "Oh no, this is my cheapest car... compared to the others."

"Kyaaa!" Diya's jaw dropped. "Ghamandi," she mumbled under her breath.

"What did you say?" Aryan asked with a teasing look.

"Log mujhe ghamandi bolte honge... bas isliye kyunki unke paas ye sab nahi hai jo mere paas hai."

"Now sit in the car," he ordered.

They both got in, and Aryan played soft romantic music. The lyrics and tune brought back the memory of their close moment in the kitchen. Diya started getting a little nervous. She tried not to look at him but when her eyes landed on his hands-those sharp veins while he was driving-uff, something hit different.

Aryan caught her staring and said with a smirk, "Mujhe aise mat dekho 🤭."

Diya immediately turned away, embarrassed. But Aryan just laughed.

They finally reached Diya's home. As she opened the door, Aryan stopped her. "Don't forget-you're mine now, professionally. You'll work for me, follow my rules, and do whatever I want you to do."

He handed her an agreement. "Sign this. You're not allowed to leave this job before one year."

Diya looked at the paper, then at him... confused, nervous, but still signed it.

As she stepped out of the car, Aryan looked at her one last time and said in a low, intense voice, "Aur haan... don't you dare say no to me."

Then he drove away, leaving Diya standing there-completely confused about what exactly he meant by that last line.

To be continued.....