As I stepped into the lavish office, I couldn't help but feel like an intruder, my drenched sandals leaving a trail of water on the opulent floor. Despite the downpour I had endured to get here, I was finally on time for the meeting. With a sense of relief, I exhaled as the receptionist guided me to the waiting area.
The waiting room exuded opulence, with plush white sofas for guests and an intricately designed rug adorning the milky tiles, likely foreign antiques. However, what truly captivated me was the breathtaking view afforded by the glass wall overlooking Delhi city. As the rain finally ceased, a gentle ray of sunlight kissed my face, illuminating the cityscape below. Lost in the moment, I savored the beauty.
As I was lost in the mesmerizing view of the city, a voice interrupted my reverie, catching me off guard.
"Miss Sahani, Sir is ready to see you."
Finally, the moment had arrived. I would come face to face with Mr. Reyansh Lamba, the enigmatic figure behind the overnight sensation that was News Nation. Despite his omnipresence in the media, Reyansh remained an elusive mystery, shrouded in secrecy. His sudden ascent to the helm of the news empire, following his father's departure, had sparked endless speculation and intrigue.
Tabloids, newspapers, magazines, and even Instagram reporters had all sought to capture the elusive prince who had taken the news world by storm. Yet, despite their efforts, not a single picture of Reyansh had ever surfaced. Rumors swirled that he went to great lengths to conceal his identity, even going so far as to pay hefty sums to those who managed to capture him on camera, ensuring that his face remained a closely guarded secret.
A secret I would know now, I thought to myself as Prerna—assuming that was her name, caught from a fleeting glance at her name tag—guided me to Mr. Reyansh Lamba's room.
She left me standing outside the imposing wooden doors, which seemed almost surreal in their grandeur. As I pushed them open with a determined force, my eyes fell upon a man's back, tall and imposing in a sharp suit, his gaze fixed on the breathtaking view beyond. The same I had witnessed from the waiting room but better. Mr. Lamba appeared almost ethereal, illuminated by the golden hour light that bathed his form, accentuating the crisp edges of his black tuxedo.
"May I come in, Sir?" I ventured, seeking permission to enter.
He nodded in acknowledgment, a simple yet commanding gesture.
Stepping inside, my gaze wandered to the wall on my right, adorned with cupboards and racks housing books and video recordings from countless incidents. I stole another glance at the figure still facing the view, before my nerves got the better of me.
"Miss Sahani... as klutzy as ever, may I add?" His voice, laced with a hint of amusement, interrupted my train of thought as he turned to face me.
My breath caught in my throat as I laid eyes on the man before me—the man whose true self remained veiled from the world, shielded by a carefully constructed facade known only to his inner circle. In that fleeting moment, a wave of estrangement swept over me, for this face should have belonged to a stranger, someone I had never seen before. Yet, against all expectations, a sense of familiarity emanated from him, leaving me momentarily disoriented.
"You!?" I blurted out, my voice tinged with disbelief.
"Hi," his voice dripped with all the cockiness of the world, a reminder of the irritation he had caused me when he hijacked the cab that was meant for my ride. Despite my inner turmoil, I managed a curt nod in acknowledgment. It's the last place to resolve petty cab ride issues.
"Please, have a seat, Miss Sahani," he said with no emotions whatsoever, gesturing towards the two seats positioned in front of his imposing desk. If he remembers our small encounter from earlier he masked it well because his face showed no ounce of acquaintance.
He asked each question with an air of detachment, his inquiries sharp and probing, particularly when he delved into why I chose journalism despite coming from a family of doctors. Yet, I found myself providing answers that met his standards, navigating the interrogation with a practiced ease born out of necessity.
But it was his final question that lingered in the air, hanging heavily between us like an unspoken challenge. "Do you really think a celebrity gossip reporter can transition to successful conscious reporting?"
The weight of his words settled upon me, demanding an honest response that would either solidify my place in his eyes or unravel the facade I had meticulously crafted.
"If I'm not mistaken, your father was a celebrity TV anchor before he decided to open News Nation—an outsider who did whatever it took to achieve his big dream. I intend to do the same. "
"Well, Miss Sahani," he began, his tone cutting and devoid of any semblance of warmth, "business runs on numbers, not on heart. You may have done niche research to uncover my father's history, commendable but News Nation is under my helm now, and I don't deem you fit for it. You can go now," he concluded, his dismissal as swift and decisive as the thud of my file landing on his desk.
"But I do," a sharp yet joyous voice shattered the tension, pulling me back from the brink of disbelief. Vivek Lamba, the man himself, walked into the room, his presence filling the space with a cheery smile. The place immediately filled with vibrance and I was amazed how a person just entering a room could bring this difference.
"I see her as the best fit for the company," he continued, addressing his son with a mix of authority and affection. "She's young, passionate, and eager to make a difference. Remember, son, if I had kept rejecting people left and right for no experience, you wouldn't be here.
"You're hired, Beta Ji. You're hired!" He confirmed looking at me.
"But Dad...", he was cut short by his father again.
"Son I have seen her files she has been amazing, the highest paid reporter too - of her firm, she had to switch, and what better she chose us. "
For a second I thought that this man showed an emotion, disappointment but he soon disguised it and turned cold again. "From tomorrow Miss Sahani then..."
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WARNING: sexual content & profanity
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