The clock struck 11:00 a.m., and Alisha stepped into the sleek, glass-walled fortress of Oberoi Enterprises, Bangalore's corporate crown jewel. Her heart pounded, the weight of her six-month deal with Samrat Oberoi—a billionaire whose smirks were as dangerous as his secrets—pressing against her chest. The receptionist, recognizing her, waved her through without a word, her eyes glinting with curiosity. Alisha squared her shoulders, her Kung Fu-honed instincts on edge, and approached Samrat's office, the door looming like a gateway to her fate.
She knocked, her pulse quickening. A low, commanding voice called from within, "Come in."
Alisha eased the door open, stepping into a room that screamed power—mahogany desk, floor-to-ceiling windows, Bangalore's skyline shimmering beyond. Samrat sat engrossed in files, his dark hair falling slightly over his brow, his chiseled jaw set in focus. He didn't look up, his presence a quiet storm that stole her breath. She cleared her throat, voice steady despite her nerves. "Mr. Oberoi, I'm here."
Samrat's eyes flicked up, piercing her with that unnerving intensity, a spark of amusement dancing in their depths. "Sit," he said, gesturing to a leather chair. "My lawyer's joining us shortly."
Alisha's stomach lurched, a jolt of unease spiking through her. "Lawyer?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "Why?"
He leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips, his gaze raking over her with maddening calm. "You're not as clever as you think, firecracker. Sit, and you'll find out when he gets here."
Her blood boiled, his condescension igniting her temper. She sank into the chair, silently cursing him with every savage insult her mind could conjure—arrogant jerk, control-freak billionaire. But she held her tongue, her defiant eyes locked on his, refusing to flinch. Two can play this game, Oberoi.
Minutes later, the door opened, and a sharp-suited man entered, his briefcase gleaming. "Mr. Sharma," Samrat greeted, rising to shake his hand. "Right on time."
"Hello, Mr. Oberoi," Sharma replied, his smile professional as they sat. His gaze flicked to Alisha, a polite smile curving his lips. She returned it, her expression tight, her instincts screaming that whatever was coming, it wouldn't be good.
Sharma turned to Samrat, his tone cautious. "The contract you requested is ready, but are you certain about this?" He glanced at Alisha, his eyes scanning her slender frame, her fierce beauty masked by a deceptively delicate appearance. To him, she looked fragile, like a starlet who'd shatter under pressure—not a Kung Fu queen who could disarm a man in seconds. Don't judge a book by its cover, he thought, sensing something lethal beneath her grace.
Samrat's smirk widened, his voice smooth as steel. "Absolutely certain. And she's got no objections, do you, firecracker?" His eyes locked on Alisha, daring her to protest.
Alisha's jaw clenched, her mind screaming at the audacity of this man who'd chained her freedom to save a boy's life. She looked like a waif to Sharma—petite, almost fragile—but her almond-shaped eyes blazed with defiance, her raven hair framing a face that could haunt dreams. Beneath her delicate exterior burned a firecracker ready to explode, and Samrat knew it. She forced a nod, her voice clipped. "None."
Sharma cleared his throat, opening the contract. "Very well. Shall I begin, Mr. Oberoi?"
"Go ahead," Samrat said, leaning back, his gaze never leaving Alisha.
Sharma read aloud, his voice steady. "Rule one: Miss Alisha has agreed to serve as Mr. Oberoi's assistant and bodyguard. You must answer his calls immediately, no matter the hour, and report to him wherever he summons you, no excuses."
Alisha's head spun, her fingers gripping the chair. Answer his every beck and call? She stared at Sharma, then Samrat, her mind racing, but she stayed silent, listening as he continued.
"Rule two: As his bodyguard, you must never flee from danger. Your priority is Mr. Oberoi's safety, above your own life. You're responsible for extracting him from any threat. Failure will result in severe compensation—financial and otherwise."
Alisha's breath caught, her eyes snapping to Samrat's. Above my own life? His face was unreadable, but a glint of challenge flickered in his gaze, as if testing her resolve. Her heart screamed—How dare he? This manipulative, heartless jerk!—but his threat from yesterday echoed: "Run, and that boy's life ends." She swallowed her fury, her mind cursing him with every vile word she knew.
Sharma droned on, listing more rules—confidentiality, loyalty, 24/7 availability—each one tightening the noose around her freedom. Alisha's vision blurred, her anger warring with the reality of her deal. But she steeled herself, her Kung Fu discipline grounding her. She met Samrat's gaze, her voice firm. "Fine, Mr. Oberoi. I accept all conditions. As of today, I'm officially your assistant and bodyguard."
A slow, predatory smile spread across Samrat's face, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "Good," he said, voice low. "Now, go get me a coffee."
Alisha bit back a retort, her pride screaming, but she rose without a word, striding out to fetch his damn coffee. Enjoy your power trip, Oberoi. It won't last.
As she left, Sharma stood, gathering his papers. "I'll take my leave, Mr. Oberoi."
Samrat nodded, dismissing him. The moment the door closed, Rahul, Samrat's trusted aide, stepped in, his brow furrowed. "Sir, are you sure about this? Her as your bodyguard?"
Samrat's smirk returned, his voice unwavering. "One hundred percent sure."
Alisha returned minutes later, a steaming coffee in hand, her expression a mask of control. Samrat was back to his files, his focus unbroken. She approached quietly, setting the cup down. "Your coffee, sir," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
He looked up, taking the cup, his fingers grazing hers—a fleeting touch that sent an unwanted spark through her. "Good," he said, voice smooth. "Now go to Rahul. Get my schedule for today and report back."
Alisha's jaw tightened. Can't he ask Rahul himself? But she nodded, turning to leave, her mind seething. This man's insufferable. As she walked away, a shadow moved outside the glass walls—a figure too quick, too deliberate. Her Kung Fu instincts flared, her body tensing, ready to strike. Someone was watching, and her new role as Samrat's bodyguard was about to be tested.
Alisha's fists clenched, her freedom signed away to Samrat Oberoi—a billionaire whose smile hid a deadly game. Her beauty captivated him, but her Kung Fu was now his shield. As a shadowy figure stalked his empire, one truth burned: her deal had plunged her into a war where loyalty could cost her life—or her heart.