Author’s POV

The headquarters of Oberoi Glow was a testament to Anjali’s personality—minimalist, glass-walled, and intimidatingly silent. At exactly 10:00 AM, Vihaan stepped into the lobby. He wasn't wearing the soft, approachable smile from the night before. Today, he wore a charcoal grey suit that fit like armor, his eyes shielded by dark aviators.

He didn't look like the 23-year-old boy Anjali had dismissed. He looked like a man who knew exactly what he was worth.

Anjali’s POV

I watched the security feed from my desk. Vihaan Singhania was sitting in my waiting area, his legs crossed, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression. I had kept him waiting for forty-five minutes. Most men his age would have been pacing or checking their watches. He hadn't moved once.

"He’s patient," I muttered to myself.

"Or he’s just arrogant," my secretary replied.

I stood up, adjusting my blazer. "Let’s see how sharp the Singhania heir really is."

I walked into the boardroom. Vihaan stood up slowly, his height more apparent in the small room. He didn't greet me with a 'Ji' or a respectful bow today. He looked me straight in the eyes, his gaze heavy and focused.

"Oberoi," he said. Just her surname. No honorifics.

I felt a prickle of annoyance. "Singhania. You’re late with your proposal. I hope the logistics are more efficient than your punctuality."

"I’ve been here since 9:55," he replied, his voice a low hum that vibrated through the air. "You were the one testing my patience. I don't mind. I have plenty of it for things that are worth the wait."

Author’s POV

The meeting was a surgical strike. Vihaan didn't talk about 'family ties' or 'grandmothers.' He talked about supply chains, maritime law, and cost-optimization. He countered Anjali’s demands with a ruthlessness that forced her to actually sit back and listen.

Anjali didn't care if he was "ruthless"—she respected it. To her, business was a war, and Vihaan was finally showing he had the weapons to fight it. Every time she tried to corner him on a percentage, he threw back a figure that was better for her bottom line but gave him total control over her shipping.

When the contract was finally signed, Anjali looked at his signature—sharp, jagged, and bold.

"You’re not the boy I met last night," she said, leaning back, her eyes narrowed.

Vihaan stood up, leaning over the table. The distance between them vanished. "Last night was for my grandmother. Today was for the business. I wonder which one you prefer, Oberoi."

Before she could answer, he turned and walked out, leaving the scent of expensive sandalwood and cold steel behind.

Vihaan’s POV

I walked into my private office at the Singhania headquarters, slamming the door. Yug and Rishi were already there, lounging on the leather sofas.

"How was the Ice Queen?" Rishi asked, spinning a pen. "Did she freeze you out?"

I threw my blazer onto the chair and loosened my tie, my mind replaying the way her eyes had widened when I called her 'Oberoi' without a title. "She’s sharp. She tried to rattle me by making me wait. She thinks I’m a puppet being handled by my father."

"And?" Yug asked, his voice low. "Did you show her the Lord, or the Son?"

I sat at my desk, staring at the empty space in front of me. "That’s the problem. I’m stuck. If I play the 'good boy'—the respectful, loving grandson—she’ll never see me as a man. She’ll treat me like a younger brother she has to tolerate at family dinners."

I leaned back, my eyes darkening. "But if I play the businessman—the ruthless Singhania—she’ll respect me, but she’ll keep her guard up. She’ll see me as a rival. She’ll never let me in."

"You need a middle ground," Rishi suggested. "A wolf in sheep's clothing."

"No," I whispered. "I need her to be confused. I want her to wonder why the 'good boy' she sees at Dadi's house has the same eyes as the man who just dominated her boardroom. I want Oberoi to be so focused on solving the puzzle of who I am that she forgets to keep me out."

"You called her 'Oberoi' to her face?" Yug asked with a smirk.

"I did," I said, a slow, predatory grin spreading across my face. "And she hated it. Which means she’s thinking about me right now. That’s step one."

"What's step two?"

"Tonight is the family dinner at the Oberoi mansion. The grandmothers arranged it," I said, standing up and reaching for my phone. "Tonight, I go back to being the 'perfect grandson.' I’ll be sweet, I’ll be respectful, and I’ll be the perfect gentleman."

I looked at my reflection in the window. "I want to see the look on her face when the man who nearly snapped at her in the boardroom... pulls out her chair and asks her how her day was with a smile."

Author’s POV

The Oberoi dining hall was the epitome of old-world grace. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over a table laden with traditional delicacies. Despite the opulence, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of jasmine and a simmering, unspoken tension.

Before the Singhanias arrived, Arvind Oberoi had pulled Anjali aside. "Anjali, I know how you are in the office. But tonight, leave the CEO at the door. Vihaan is young; he’s just moved back. Go easy on him, okay? Take care of him. Make sure he feels at home."

Anjali had simply nodded, her expression unreadable. To her, Vihaan Singhania was just another version of her younger cousin Kabir—a boy with a bright future who needed a steady hand to guide him. She had already categorized him in her mind: A child to be tolerated.

Anjali’s POV

The Singhanias arrived with the kind of warmth that only decades of friendship could breed. I stood by the pillar, watching the greetings. Vihaan was at the center of it, dressed in a soft navy sweater and chinos. Gone was the charcoal suit and the icy boardroom stare. He looked approachable. Soft.

Just like Kabir, I thought, a small, patronizing smile ghosting my lips.

"Anjali, come here," my mother called out. "Show Vihaan to the table. And make sure his plate is never empty."

I walked over, my movements fluid and slow. "Of course, Maa. Come, Vihaan. You must be tired after such a long day of... learning the ropes."

I used his name casually, the way one addresses a junior. I saw his jaw tighten for a fraction of a second, but his smile remained perfectly in place.

Vihaan’s POV

Vihaan. The way she said my name sounded like she was patting a puppy on the head. She didn't see the man who had cornered her on a 15% shipping margin three hours ago. She saw a boy who needed to be fed.

"Thank you, Miss Oberoi," I said, my voice smooth but pointed. I used her surname deliberately. In our circles, using a surname without a title was a power move, but adding 'Miss' made it formal, distant—a wall I was building right in front of her.

The families took their seats. The grandmothers were busy reminiscing, and the elders were discussing the economy. I sat directly across from her.

"Vihaan, have some of the shahi paneer," Anjali’s mother urged. "Anjali, serve him."

Anjali picked up the serving spoon, her face a mask of bored compliance. "Here you go, Vihaan. Eat up. You need your energy if you’re going to keep up with the Singhania legacy."

She didn't even look at me as she served. She began eating her own meal, her movements mechanical and efficient. She was clearly counting the minutes until she could retreat to her room and leave the 'babysitting' behind.

Author’s POV

Anjali remained silent throughout the main course, her mind clearly miles away—likely on the quarterly projections for her cosmetics line. She didn't engage in the banter. She didn't look at Vihaan. She treated his presence like a piece of furniture that was required for the evening’s aesthetic.

But Vihaan wasn't eating. He was watching. He saw the way she dismissed him with every blink of her eyes.

"Miss Oberoi," Vihaan’s voice suddenly broke through the cross-talk of the table. It was quiet, but it had a frequency that made Anjali stop her fork mid-air.

She looked up, her icy gaze meeting his. "Yes, Vihaan?"

"You seem distracted," he said, a polite, almost innocent smile on his face. "Is the burden of the cosmetics empire too heavy tonight? Or are you just bored of the 'kids' table?"

The table went silent for a heartbeat. Arvind Oberoi chuckled. "See? I told you he was sharp! He caught you, Anjali."

Anjali’s POV

I set my fork down slowly. The 'child' was talking back. And he was still calling me by my surname while I addressed him like a toddler.

"Not distracted, Vihaan," I said, my voice dropping an octave, becoming the cold CEO once more. "Just efficient. I believe in finishing the task at hand—in this case, dinner—so I can return to more productive matters. I’m sure you understand, being so new to the pace of India."

I stood up, not waiting for a response. "Grandmother, Dadi Singhania... if you’ll excuse me. I have some reports to review before tomorrow. Vihaan, enjoy the dessert. I’ve heard the Singhanias have a sweet tooth."

I didn't wait for his reply. I turned and walked toward the stairs, my head held high. To me, the conversation was over. The boy had tried to bite, and I had put him back in his place.

Vihaan’s POV

I watched her walk away, the sway of her silk kurti the only movement in the room. She thought she had won. She thought she had successfully dismissed me.

"She's just tired, Beta," Anjali's Dadi said apologetically. "She works too hard."

"It's no problem at all," I said, my smile widening into something that didn't quite reach my eyes. "I admire her dedication. Miss Oberoi is... unique."

Under the table, my hand clenched into a fist. She wanted to treat me like Kabir? Fine. Let her go to her room. Let her think she’s safe in her ivory tower of maturity.

I looked at my phone. A text from Yug: [Shipment confirmed for 2 AM. The docks are clear.]

I looked back at the stairs where she had disappeared. Tomorrow, she would realize that the 'boy' she fed tonight was the same man who held the keys to her international expansion. And the next time I called her 'Miss Oberoi,' I’d make sure she was the one looking for a way to bridge the gap.

"Dadi," I said, turning to Anjali's grandmother with a charming tilt of my head. "Tell me more about Anjali. Was she always this... private?"

I wasn't just having dinner. I was gathering intelligence.

And by the time the night was over, I would know every crack in the ice.