"If you want to survive in the fashion industry, rule number one—never piss off Ananya Mehra. Rule number two? Don’t do what Kabir Singhania just did."

Kabir had absolutely no idea what he was walking into.

He was supposed to be at the PR agency interview—he was pretty sure of that. But the moment he stepped out of the elevator, he found himself in front of a shiny glass door that read Mehra Enterprises, with a tiny little “PA” sign on it.

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ll just say I’m here for something, and they’ll believe me.”

With his typical charm and cocky grin plastered on his face, Kabir opened the door and waltzed right in. No greeting. No “good morning.” He just strutted into Mehra’s lair as if he owned the place.

The first thing that hit him was the smell of expensive leather and overpowering perfume that made his head spin. But it was her that stole his attention.

There, sitting at the grand desk, was a woman who looked like she stepped out of a business magazine cover. Her gaze, sharp enough to cut through steel, didn’t even flicker when Kabir barged in. She didn’t even look up. Her hairs were falling down over her stiff shoulders. Her black blouse doing enough justice to her hourglass body.

“You’re late,” she said flatly, not even acknowledging him beyond the fact that he was standing in front of her, looking completely out of place in his oversized blazer and messy hair.

Kabir blinked, his grin faltering just a bit. But only for a second. “Uh, no I’m not.” Her voice held a strange strength, strength of power. But it was rather melodic to his ears.

“I don’t care. You’re here, and that’s all that matters,” she replied, her voice dripping with authority. Without a second glance, she pointed to the chair opposite her and continued typing furiously on her laptop.

Kabir, always the one who liked to play it cool, swaggered over to the chair and dropped his bag. He had no idea what this was about, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that Ananya Mehra was a force. Not one to back down, he planted himself right in front of her and prepared for his usual charm offensive.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m Kabir Singhania. You’re the famous Ananya Mehra, right? Or should I say the legendary ice queen of fashion?”

Ananya’s fingers froze mid-type. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his. Her shiny red eyes pinned him. The death glare was enough to make any grown man reconsider their life choices. But not Kabir. He was used to it—after all, he had faced worse from his mother.

“You have two seconds to make me believe you’re worth my time, or I’ll make you wish you never walked in here.”

Kabir didn’t even flinch. Instead, he smiled wider, if that was even possible. “I like a challenge.”

Then, like a complete idiot, he made the biggest mistake of the day:

He knocked over her coffee cup.

The dark brown liquid spilled all over the expensive Italian suit she was wearing. Kabir stared at it in absolute horror. He could hear the loud sizzle of his life ending. The coffee was everywhere, and Ananya—well, she looked as if she had just heard her heart shatter.

“That was stupid.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried all the menace of an incoming storm. She stood up, her icy demeanor even more terrifying now. Kabir’s smile faltered in complete horror.

“I—I’m so sorry! That was an accident! I—”

Before he could continue, she waved a hand dismissively. “Just sit down. You’re not here to make me coffee, are you?”

With a sigh that sounded almost like a growl, she gestured toward the chair again. Kabir sat down, trying to act casual, though his palms were now sweaty. But the entire time, the only thought racing through his mind was: 'She legit looks like a supermodel! A classy one!'

As Ananya wiped her suit with one of the napkins she grabbed from the table, Kabir could practically hear the sound of her teeth grinding. She gave him one more scathing look, and he knew this was not going to end well for him.

"You're lucky, I fire people on the spot," she muttered, but then added, her gaze softening just a bit, "but I’m in a generous mood today."

Kabir, still trying to salvage whatever he could from this awkward encounter, leaned forward, his grin returning. "Generous, huh? I like that. Maybe that’s a good sign, right? I mean, if you’re willing to put up with a disaster like me, you might just be a softie at heart."

Ananya shot him another icy stare, but there was a flicker in her eyes, something that almost seemed like... amusement?

"You’ve got five minutes," she said. "Tell me why I shouldn’t call security and have you escorted out of here."

Kabir knew he had no choice but to turn on the charm, to try and win her over despite the coffee disaster. The next five minutes were a blur of jokes, attempts at professionalism, and Kabir’s trademark humor, but underneath it all, he couldn’t deny the electric tension sparking between them.

Finally, she set down the napkin, exhaled deeply, and made her decision. "Alright. You’re hired."

Kabir blinked, shocked. "What? You’re not kidding?"

"Trust me, I’m just as shocked as you are. But," she added, leaning back in her chair with a calculating smile, the first one till now, "I think you’ll make a great PA... as long as you can survive under my rule."

Kabir’s heart skipped a beat. He might’ve just walked into a world he wasn’t prepared for—but he was certainly going to enjoy every moment of it.

"Don’t worry," he said, with a glint in his eye, "I live for a challenge."

As he left her office that day, Kabir couldn’t help but think: This wasn’t just another job. It was going to be a battle. And one thing he knew for sure: he was never backing down from this fight, after all he had to tell his kids one day that he worked for the ice queen of the fashion industry.

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