Kavya Mehra didn’t believe in office friendships, especially not the fake, smile-through-your-teeth kind that floated around the glass corridors of Veritas Capital. She believed in results—clean numbers, sharp presentations, and clients who trusted her more than anyone else on the floor.

Which is why the very sight of Arjun Rathore across the conference table made her blood simmer.

He was already sitting there when she walked in—leaned back in his chair, one arm slung over the backrest, the very picture of smug confidence. His navy suit looked like it had been tailored to his DNA. The top button of his shirt was undone, revealing just enough collarbone to be distracting, and his hair—God, his hair—looked like it had been tousled by expensive winds.

He glanced at her with that familiar flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Morning, Mehra. Ready to lose today’s pitch battle?”

“Only if you forget how to read numbers overnight,” she shot back, sliding into the chair across from him.

Their colleagues filtered in, papers rustling, the smell of coffee thick in the air. But even as the room filled, the tension between Kavya and Arjun settled like static electricity. Everyone knew about their rivalry. They didn’t just compete; they collided. And each time, the firm benefitted—two of its brightest minds locked in an endless battle for dominance.

The meeting began. Kavya’s team had worked on the FIDEX proposal for weeks. She knew her numbers, knew her narrative, and most importantly—she knew her edge. But Arjun wasn’t one to go down quietly. He poked holes in her projections, twisted her data into new interpretations, and smirked every time he made a point that stuck.

She hated that smirk.

An hour later, the meeting ended with polite applause and backhanded compliments from the senior partners. Kavya gathered her files with controlled precision.

“Strong pitch,” Arjun said, approaching her as the room cleared out. “You almost convinced me.”

“Maybe one day you’ll learn to stop talking and start listening.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “But if I did that, I wouldn’t get to see you all riled up. It’s the highlight of my mornings.”

Kavya blinked. Was he flirting? No. This was Arjun. Everything he said was laced with ego and mischief. She wasn’t going to be baited.

“Careful, Rathore. One day, that charm of yours is going to fall flat, and all you’ll be left with is your overinflated sense of self.”

“And yet, you keep looking at me like you’re trying to solve a puzzle. Tell me—what do you think I’m hiding?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Because just then, her phone buzzed with an internal memo. Her eyes flicked to the screen. Subject: Project Aurora—Lead Assignment.

She opened it and froze.

To: Kavya Mehra & Arjun Rathore.

From: Rakesh Mehra, Managing Director

Re: Joint Lead Assignment - Project Aurora

“As part of Veritas Capital’s new strategic initiative, the board has selected both of you to co-lead Project Aurora, effective immediately. Your complementary skills are expected to drive success on this critical international expansion. Details to follow.”

Kavya reread the message twice. Co-lead? With him?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

Across the table, Arjun’s phone buzzed at the same time. His brow lifted as he read the memo. “Well, this just got interesting.”

She shot him a glare. “Interesting isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Come on, Mehra. You know we make a great team—when we’re not trying to kill each other.”

“I’d rather take on this project blindfolded than work with you.”

“And yet, here we are.”

He tucked his phone into his pocket and walked past her, brushing her shoulder with his as he did. Her entire body tensed. That contact—barely there, completely accidental—still left heat in its wake.

She turned, jaw tight. “Don’t get comfortable, Rathore. This doesn’t mean I trust you. I haven’t forgotten what happened during the Paragon deal.”

Arjun’s expression turned unreadable for a moment. “I didn’t sabotage you, Kavya. You just never asked for my side of the story.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. But before she could respond, he was already halfway down the hall, waving a lazy goodbye.

Kavya stared after him, the bitter taste of frustration curling on her tongue.

The past was about to repeat itself. But this time, she’d be ready.

By the time Kavya got back to her office, she was already drafting a list in her head: rules, boundaries, strategies. She couldn’t afford distractions. Not with her career, not with Arjun, and definitely not with the growing heat between them that she refused to name.

Half an hour later, her assistant poked in. “Rathore just dropped off the preliminary notes for Aurora. He said he wanted you to see his angle before the client call tomorrow.”

Kavya took the file reluctantly. Inside were graphs, timelines, risk assessments. She expected arrogance. What she didn’t expect was how meticulous it all was. He’d clearly done his research. It was annoyingly... impressive.

She scanned through the proposal, irritation and intrigue battling inside her. The worst part? His strategy aligned almost exactly with hers.

Great minds think alike, she thought. Or maybe just bitter rivals who couldn’t stop watching each other closely.

The intercom buzzed.

“Conference Room 3B in ten. Internal sync,” Arjun’s voice crackled through.

She rolled her eyes but stood anyway.

This was war. But it was going to be a hell of a battle.

It was supposed to be her breakthrough.

The Paragon acquisition pitch had Kavya’s name all over it—her research, her strategy, her sleepless nights spent tweaking forecasts down to the decimal. She’d sent the final file late at night, double-checked every figure, and saved it under a secure folder. It was perfect.

But the next morning, something went terribly wrong.

The presentation that loaded on the screen was not the one she had submitted.

Her key numbers were replaced with outdated projections. Her clean layout was swapped for a generic template. The core idea—the thing that would’ve won the client over—was missing entirely. She stared in shock, frozen in her chair, pulse pounding, as Arjun calmly stood up, walked to the front, and picked up the pitch like it had always been his.

He delivered it flawlessly. Confident. Articulate. Charming.

And she sat there, invisible.

Later, a congratulatory email came from the director, thanking Arjun by name for his leadership and sharp thinking.

Kavya didn’t go to the celebratory drinks afterward. She went home, pulled out her laptop, and dug through her email records. Her version of the presentation was there, timestamped and intact. She compared it with the version used in the boardroom. Subtle but crucial changes had been made—enough to dull the edge of her ideas and erase her voice.

She didn’t know how.

But she knew who had benefited.

Arjun.

Since that day, her entire approach toward him had changed. Where there had once been a grudging professional respect, there was now only cool detachment. She kept conversations short, avoided unnecessary contact, and locked up her files with encryption.

Because in her mind, the truth was simple: Arjun Rathore had sabotaged her.

Present day.

Kavya stared at the message again: Joint Lead Assignment – Project Aurora.

Her stomach churned. She could practically hear the universe laughing.

The one person she didn’t trust was now her partner on the firm’s most ambitious international expansion.

And it wasn’t jusT any project. Aurora was huge. If they nailed it, it meant visibility, promotions, and power. It was the kind of assignment careers were made of.

She couldn’t afford to walk away.

But she couldn’t let him get close either.

Her fingers curled tightly around her pen as she mentally drafted a new battle plan.

Across the hall, Arjun Rathore leaned back in his chair, watching the ceiling fan spin slowly. The Project Aurora memo still glowed on his screen, but his mind was elsewhere.

He’d sensed the chill between him and Kavya for months now. At first, he thought it was just competitive friction—two alphas vying for the same victories. But then it got personal. Too personal.

She ignored him outside of meetings. She responded to emails like he was a stranger. She never looked at him unless absolutely necessary.

And he didn’t understand why.

Until last week, when he overheard a conversation between Kavya and her assistant in the pantry.

“…he hijacked the Paragon deal, Ananya. My slides were replaced, and he acted like he didn’t know. Of course he knew.”

That stopped him cold.

Was that what she believed?

He had never touched her slides. He remembered opening the deck minutes before the presentation and realizing it was messy. He assumed she had panicked and sent an incomplete draft. With the director watching, he did what he thought was best: step up and save the pitch.

But now he saw how it must’ve looked.

And he realized—he had unknowingly stolen her moment.

The guilt was immediate and heavy.

But the damage was already done. And now they were forced to work together on the biggest project of their careers.

He wasn’t sure if she’d ever believe the truth.

That afternoon, they sat across from each other in a private meeting room reserved for Project Aurora planning.

The silence between them was glacial.

Kavya opened her folder without acknowledging him. “I’ve outlined our timeline. We’re behind on the initial client interface, so we’ll need to split tasks. I’ll handle the Asia market analysis. You can take Europe.”

Arjun raised an eyebrow. “No discussion? Just orders?”

She looked up, her tone flat. “It’s not about orders. It’s about efficiency.”

He held her gaze. “We’re supposed to work as partners, Kavya. Not subordinates.”

“Then act like one.”

He exhaled slowly. “Is this how it’s going to be the entire time?”

“Only if you keep pretending you didn’t screw me over last year.”

He leaned forward, voice quiet but firm. “I didn’t. And if you’d just—”

“Don’t.” Her voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t gaslight me. I know what happened.”

He hesitated. “Do you? Because I only saw your version five minutes before the pitch. It wasn’t your file. It wasn’t mine either. I thought something went wrong, and I—”

“Finished the show without asking questions. Without even checking with me. Without giving me a second of credit.”

“I didn’t know,” he said, eyes dark with something that almost looked like regret. “I honestly didn’t know.”

She looked away.

“Doesn’t matter now,” she muttered, standing. “Let’s just get through this. The faster we deliver, the faster we go our separate ways.”

Arjun watched her walk out, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

He knew then: fixing this wasn’t going to be about apologies.

It would be about proving she could trust him again.

And that, for the first time, scared him more than the project itself.

The temporary Project Aurora war room was located on the 17th floor—glass walls, high ceilings, and far too little space for two people who could barely stand each other.

Kavya entered first, her heels clicking sharply against the polished tiles. She claimed the far end of the long table, plugging in her laptop without so much as a glance at Arjun, who walked in seconds later.

“Morning,” he said, tone neutral.

She didn’t respond. Just opened her notebook and began typing. Arjun smirked. Cold as ever.

They had three weeks to prepare a full-spectrum market proposal for the Aurora expansion: competitive analysis, risk forecasts, region-specific penetration strategies, and investor alignment decks. It was ambitious, even for two top performers.

They needed synergy.

Instead, they had landmines.

By lunch, they’d already clashed twice—once over branding tone, once over financial modeling assumptions. Kavya hated his projections for being “recklessly optimistic,” and Arjun accused her of “turning caution into cowardice.”

It was a miracle the glass walls didn’t crack from the tension.

But in the rare moments when they weren’t arguing, something unspoken lingered in the air. A flicker of awareness. The way her fingers paused near her collarbone when she was frustrated. The way he tapped his pen exactly three times before speaking. Neither of them acknowledged it, but it simmered like heat trapped under silk.

Later that afternoon, a surprise client call was scheduled with the European partners. Kavya clicked open the shared deck.

Arjun’s section was incomplete.

“What is this?” she snapped. “You were supposed to finish the comparative ROI slide.”

“I’m working on it. It’ll be ready by the call.”

“The call is in twenty minutes!”

He stood, walking around the table to look over her screen. “Relax, Mehra. Not all of us need six hours to build a table.”

Her jaw clenched. “Professionalism doesn’t equal perfectionism. It means showing up prepared.”

Arjun leaned closer, voice lower. “It also means not assuming the worst every damn time.”

Kavya stood. Too close.

The air between them crackled.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to assume if you didn’t give me a reason,” she whispered.

They were inches apart now. Breathing each other’s frustration.

Then the room phone buzzed, shattering the moment.

She stepped back sharply, smoothing her blazer. “Get it done.”

He nodded, eyes unreadable. “Already on it.”

---

The call went fine.

Too fine.

The clients were impressed, the director gave a tight nod of approval, and Arjun—true to his word—had nailed the last-minute numbers.

Kavya hated how efficient they were when they weren’t arguing. Like it wasn’t just tolerance. It was something else.

Something dangerous.

She lingered in the conference room after the call, closing files and rechecking notes. Arjun didn’t leave either. He watched her from the other end.

“You always this hard on your teammates?” he asked casually.

“Only the ones I can’t trust.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I deserve that.”

She glanced at him. “You guess?”

“I didn’t change your presentation, Kavya. I swear. But I get why you think I did. And I don’t blame you for it.”

For a second, her posture softened.

Then she shut her laptop. “Let’s just get this done. And once it’s over, we can go back to ignoring each other.”

Arjun nodded slowly. “Right. Ignoring each other.”

But his voice carried something else entirely.

And neither of them looked away for a long time.