24-04-2026, 11:35 PM
Chapter 6: Shadows in the Office
It was 7:15 PM when Vikram stepped out of the elevator onto the 8th floor. The entire wing was eerily quiet. Most employees had already fled the moment the clock struck six-thirty, eager to escape the tension that had gripped VeeR Group since Shekar’s accident.
He frowned when he saw his cabin door slightly ajar. No report on his desk. No sign of Malavika.
“Typical,” he muttered.
As he entered, something felt off. The small resting room attached to his cabin — meant for late-night work — had its door half-closed. A faint shadow moved behind it.
Vikram’s instincts kicked in instantly. He silently opened his drawer, pulled out a sharp folding knife, and approached the door. In one swift motion, he yanked it open and swung the blade toward the shadow.
A sharp gasp cut through the air.
The knife tore through the thin fabric of a maroon saree with a loud riiiip. The blade sliced a deep vertical cut from the waist all the way up, exposing the white blouse underneath and a dangerous amount of soft, deep cleavage.
Malavika stumbled backward in shock. Vikram lost balance with the swing, and both of them crashed to the floor.
In the chaos, his large hand instinctively grabbed for support — landing squarely on her full, heavy left breast. His fingers squeezed the soft, warm flesh for a split second before he realized what he was holding.
“Fuck,” he hissed.
They both froze.
Malavika’s eyes were wide with terror and humiliation. Her torn saree hung open, her heaving breasts barely contained by the tight blouse, nipples faintly visible through the thin material. Vikram’s hand was still on her for one extra heartbeat before he pulled it away.
He stood up first and stepped back.
“What the hell are you doing hiding in my private room?” he demanded, voice low and dangerous.
Malavika scrambled to her feet, clutching the torn edges of her saree. “Someone… someone entered the floor wearing a mask. He didn’t look normal. I panicked and hid here. I didn’t know what else to do!”
Vikram stared at her for a moment, then walked to his desk and pulled up the security footage on his monitor. Sure enough, a masked man had slipped onto the floor twenty minutes ago. He was seen placing something small under a cabinet near Vikram’s cabin before disappearing.
Vikram zoomed in. The man had slipped a tiny device into his pocket while leaving — a listening bug.
He turned back to Malavika, expression unreadable.
“It was a mistake,” he said flatly.
Malavika’s fear turned into fury. “Mistake?! You tore my saree with a knife! You grabbed my breast! And you expect me to believe this was just a mistake? Who the hell are you? Why do masked men come here with bugs? Why do you meet gun-carrying gangsters in the basement?”
She was breathing hard, tears of anger and shame glistening in her eyes.
Vikram calmly removed his expensive black blazer and tossed it toward her.
“Cover yourself. Return it tomorrow.”
Malavika caught the blazer and quickly dbangd it over her ruined saree. It smelled faintly of his cologne — woody and masculine. She hated how it made her feel.
As she turned to leave after placing her report on his desk, Vikram’s voice stopped her.
“You have only five more days to prove yourself, Malavika. Watch your steps very carefully. And stop focusing on unwanted and unimportant things.”
She paused at the door, confused.
Was he warning her about the masked man… or about watching him?
She didn’t ask. She simply walked out, took the elevator down, and booked a cab straight to the apartment. She didn’t wait for Bhaskar. She didn’t want to explain anything to anyone.
Not the torn saree.
Not the rough hand on her breast.
Not the fear… or the strange, dangerous spark she had felt when Vikram’s body had pressed against hers on the floor.
It was 7:15 PM when Vikram stepped out of the elevator onto the 8th floor. The entire wing was eerily quiet. Most employees had already fled the moment the clock struck six-thirty, eager to escape the tension that had gripped VeeR Group since Shekar’s accident.
He frowned when he saw his cabin door slightly ajar. No report on his desk. No sign of Malavika.
“Typical,” he muttered.
As he entered, something felt off. The small resting room attached to his cabin — meant for late-night work — had its door half-closed. A faint shadow moved behind it.
Vikram’s instincts kicked in instantly. He silently opened his drawer, pulled out a sharp folding knife, and approached the door. In one swift motion, he yanked it open and swung the blade toward the shadow.
A sharp gasp cut through the air.
The knife tore through the thin fabric of a maroon saree with a loud riiiip. The blade sliced a deep vertical cut from the waist all the way up, exposing the white blouse underneath and a dangerous amount of soft, deep cleavage.
Malavika stumbled backward in shock. Vikram lost balance with the swing, and both of them crashed to the floor.
In the chaos, his large hand instinctively grabbed for support — landing squarely on her full, heavy left breast. His fingers squeezed the soft, warm flesh for a split second before he realized what he was holding.
“Fuck,” he hissed.
They both froze.
Malavika’s eyes were wide with terror and humiliation. Her torn saree hung open, her heaving breasts barely contained by the tight blouse, nipples faintly visible through the thin material. Vikram’s hand was still on her for one extra heartbeat before he pulled it away.
He stood up first and stepped back.
“What the hell are you doing hiding in my private room?” he demanded, voice low and dangerous.
Malavika scrambled to her feet, clutching the torn edges of her saree. “Someone… someone entered the floor wearing a mask. He didn’t look normal. I panicked and hid here. I didn’t know what else to do!”
Vikram stared at her for a moment, then walked to his desk and pulled up the security footage on his monitor. Sure enough, a masked man had slipped onto the floor twenty minutes ago. He was seen placing something small under a cabinet near Vikram’s cabin before disappearing.
Vikram zoomed in. The man had slipped a tiny device into his pocket while leaving — a listening bug.
He turned back to Malavika, expression unreadable.
“It was a mistake,” he said flatly.
Malavika’s fear turned into fury. “Mistake?! You tore my saree with a knife! You grabbed my breast! And you expect me to believe this was just a mistake? Who the hell are you? Why do masked men come here with bugs? Why do you meet gun-carrying gangsters in the basement?”
She was breathing hard, tears of anger and shame glistening in her eyes.
Vikram calmly removed his expensive black blazer and tossed it toward her.
“Cover yourself. Return it tomorrow.”
Malavika caught the blazer and quickly dbangd it over her ruined saree. It smelled faintly of his cologne — woody and masculine. She hated how it made her feel.
As she turned to leave after placing her report on his desk, Vikram’s voice stopped her.
“You have only five more days to prove yourself, Malavika. Watch your steps very carefully. And stop focusing on unwanted and unimportant things.”
She paused at the door, confused.
Was he warning her about the masked man… or about watching him?
She didn’t ask. She simply walked out, took the elevator down, and booked a cab straight to the apartment. She didn’t wait for Bhaskar. She didn’t want to explain anything to anyone.
Not the torn saree.
Not the rough hand on her breast.
Not the fear… or the strange, dangerous spark she had felt when Vikram’s body had pressed against hers on the floor.
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