The office was sleek and immaculate, with every surface polished to a professional gleam. The glass walls reflected the skyline of Mumbai—ruthless, glittering, and always watching.

Tanishk stepped inside, his presence commanding but calm, trailed closely by his personal assistant, Kavya Sharma.

She was in her early thirties—older than Tanishk by a few years—but sharp, composed, and exceptionally efficient. Her navy blue blouse was crisp, her hair neatly tied, and her expression all business.

Tanishk respected her. He didn’t offer that to many.

“Sir, our new arms shipment is scheduled for later this week,” she said, scanning through her tablet.

“Fine. Any update on the Malaysia deal?” Tanishk asked, slipping into his chair, loosening the cuff of his sleeve with the ease of a man used to pressure.

Kavya’s brow furrowed slightly. “Yes. There are significant concerns with the logistics—if we don't reassess quickly, we’re looking at a potential loss.”

Tanishk nodded once, his jaw tightening. “Then call a board meeting. Inform all key heads to join. There are a few things I need to address personally.”

“Right away, sir.”

Kavya turned sharply and walked out, her heels clicking across the polished floor with precision.

The lighting in the room was dim—deliberate, intimate. Soft amber hues spilled across the velvet drapes and silk-covered chaise.

The air smelled faintly of French perfume and something darker: desire.

The door creaked open.

A woman entered.

She was elegance draped in temptation. Her dress was barely there—thin, silken fabric clinging to her curves. Her long hair was swept up in waves, her painted lips curled into a smile, and her hips swayed with calculated grace.

"Well, aren’t you a vision,” came the voice from the bed.

Mr. Saksena lounged lazily across the mattress, clad in nothing but his underwear. His grin was hungry, his eyes raking over her as if he were already unwrapping her in his mind.

“You should be a model, Tarini,” he said with a lazy drawl, “not some businesswoman drowning in numbers and suits.”

She sauntered closer, her laugh sultry and mocking.

“What kind of model, Mr. Saksena?” she asked, tilting her head.

He sat up slightly, eyes gleaming. “A supermodel—the kind who struts in heels and whispers seduction through every curve. Someone who wears lace and leather, who turns heads and stops hearts…”

Tarini reached the edge of the bed, and before he could finish, she climbed atop him with feline fluidity, pushing him gently back down with a single finger on his chest.

“You know,” she purred, hovering just above him, “your name has a dangerous charm… I can’t seem to forget it.”

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I love your hair… your voice… the way you look at me like I’m already yours. It makes my panties wet, Mr. Saksena.”

He swallowed hard, his throat working around the lump of anticipation.

“Do you want to see it?” she asked, brushing her lips near his ear.

His eyes widened, a gleam of lust sparking in them. “Yeah.”

Tarini smiled.

But it wasn’t a smile of affection.

It was the smile of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing—and exactly what he was about to lose.

The room was cloaked in dim gold and secrets.

Tarini Chandravanshi moved like a whisper of silk—dangerously soft, deceptively beautiful. Draped over the half-naked form of Mr. Saksena, she ran her fingers along his chest, smiling as though she were just another woman enjoying a forbidden evening.

But she wasn’t.

She was the daughter of the Chandravanshi Empire, and more importantly—its rightful heir.

Or so she believed.

Her smile faltered only slightly as she looked down at the man beneath her.

"Tell me, Mr. Saksena..." she murmured, her tone syrupy and slow, "Do you always say yes so easily? Or is it just when you're in bed with your business partner’s sister?"

Saksena blinked, flustered. “Tarini, I—”

"Relax." She laughed softly, brushing a finger across his lips. "You’re not the first man to underestimate a Chandravanshi woman. And certainly not the last."

She rose gracefully, walking toward the mini bar, her dress clinging like a second skin. Pouring herself a drink, she stared into the glass—not with desire, but with rage.

Buried. Refined. Seething.

The boardroom had been full that day—filled with the smell of cigars, polished leather, and old tradition.

Tarini remembered it clearly.

She had entered with a presentation so sharp it could cut glass. Market reports, long-term projections, crisis management protocols—all perfect. She had built herself for this role, brick by brick, sleepless night by sleepless night.

But in the end, it hadn’t mattered.

Her father had looked at her with that placid, patronizing smile and said:

“You’ve done well, beta. But the world listens to men. Tanishk will be the face. You will stand behind him, and guide him—as sisters should.”

A courtesy title: Director.

Not a crown, just a costume.

She had smiled, hugged her brother in front of the board, and congratulated him. The cameras captured it all.

But they didn’t capture what she whispered in his ear that day:

“You may wear the crown, Tanishk. But never forget—it fits my head better.”

Back in the dim-lit room, Mr. Saksena adjusted the sheet awkwardly, watching Tarini as she leaned against the bar, her eyes fixed on nothing.

“Tarini... what is this, really?” he asked. “Us?”

She turned to him slowly, her smile calm and cruel.

“This?” she echoed, lifting the glass. “This is leverage.”

He stiffened.

“You're going to be the face of the next weapons contract. You’re the key partner in Tanishk’s expansion into East Asia. But what my darling little brother doesn’t know—yet—is that you answer to me now.”

Saksena’s throat went dry. “Are you asking me to betray him?”

Tarini walked back toward the bed, crouched down until her face was level with his, her voice smooth as velvet dipped in venom.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m asking you to remember who truly leads—when the time comes to choose.”

She stood again, already bored with his hesitation.

“You're free to go now, Mr. Saksena. Or you can stay and watch a woman take what was always hers.”

He didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Tarini turned away, her expression unreadable.

Because some battles were never fought in boardrooms.

They were fought in bedrooms, in whispers, and in shadows.

And Tarini Randhawa was done waiting.

Evening — Chandravanshi Enterprises HQ, 34th Floor

The boardroom was drenched in late-evening golden hues filtering through the high glass walls, the city skyline flickering in the background like a silent audience. A long, polished obsidian table stretched across the room, and at its head sat Tanishk Chandravansh —sharp in a charcoal suit, fingers steepled, green eyes focused.

One by one, department heads, legal advisors, and international partners filled the room. Laptops clicked open. Water was poured. And silence settled as power entered the room.

Tarini Chandravansh walked in last.

Not late—intentional.

She was dressed in deep forest green silk, understated yet commanding. Her hair was tied back, not a strand out of place. She took the chair at Tanishk’s right—where the CEO’s second-in-command usually sat.

And tonight, Mr. Navdeep Saksena, the East Asia deal partner, was seated across from her.

Tanishk opened the meeting with crisp efficiency.
“Thank you all for being here. We’ll begin with the status of the Malaysia arms shipment. Kavya, brief them.”

Kavya, standing by the projection screen, nodded and began explaining the delays, port irregularities, and cost concerns. Tanishk absorbed every word, calculating, adjusting.

Then, Navdeep cleared his throat and leaned forward with a practiced smile.
“Mr.Chandravansh, if I may—my contacts at the Johor port can expedite the process. It would require a renegotiation of the customs arrangement, but I’m confident we can close the gap.”

Tanishk narrowed his eyes slightly. “At what cost?”

“Nothing unreasonable,” Devraj replied smoothly. “But it would require direct interface with someone from our internal operations. Perhaps someone from the board?”

Tarini's voice slid in like a knife dipped in honey.
“I can handle that.”

Tanishk turned to her, brow lifting faintly.

“You’re already overseeing the African logistics. You want to take on East Asia as well?”

She smiled sweetly. “Unless, of course, you believe I can’t handle it?”

He held her gaze for a second too long.

Then looked away.

“Fine. You’ll coordinate with Mr. Saksena going forward.”

Across the table, Navdeep's lips curled subtly, but his eyes flicked to Tarini, who didn’t so much as glance back at him.

“Thank you, sir,” he said to Tanishk.

Tarini folded her hands neatly over her notepad, her expression calm, collected.

But beneath the table, her stiletto-heeled foot brushed deliberately against Saksena’s.

He didn’t flinch.
But he understood.

Game on.

Later — After the Meeting

As the others filed out, chatting about numbers and projections, Tarini lingered behind.

Tanishk stood by the window now, staring at the darkening sky. The city below buzzed like a storm brewing under glass.

“You know, Taniskh ,” she said softly, “when Papa made you CEO, I thought he chose right. You were always good with numbers. Always good at staying detached.”

Tanishk didn’t turn. “Don’t do this again, Di .”

She laughed, low and quiet. “Relax. I’ve made my peace with being second. After all, the queen doesn’t always need the crown. Sometimes...” she paused, stepping toward the door, “she just needs to move the board.”

He finally turned then, eyes narrowing just slightly.

But she was already gone.

And the board was already moving.

Sneak peek- Chapter 4

 “Papa.. may I help with the preparations?”

Prath’s gaze settled on her again, but the softening she hoped for did not come. His lips pressed into a thin smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“We’ll see,” he said.

And with that, the conversation moved on. But in the corner of her heart, something quiet had already broken.