Chapter 4 : her biodata

The day started on a tense note at ZN Corporations. Word had spread quickly in the company’s internal chat groups—Chris Zayden, the enigmatic and strict CEO, had arrived unusually early. Employees scrambled to make it to their desks on time, some hurrying through the doors, others quickly arranging their desks to appear busy.

Chris, however, had no interest in the frantic activity of his employees. He sat in his expansive office, leaning back in his chair, his sharp blue eyes fixed on the live CCTV feed from the lobby. His focus was not on the bustling workers but on one person—Hema Kapoor.

He had been waiting, and as the minutes ticked by, his irritation grew. Half an hour late. For someone as punctual and controlled as Chris, it was a small but significant annoyance. He clenched his jaw as he finally saw her walking into the building. She was late, and worse—she was walking alongside another male employee, laughing casually.

His grip on the edge of his desk tightened. “Who is he?” he muttered to himself. The sight of her with someone else sent a flicker of possessiveness through him, something he wasn’t accustomed to feeling.

Hema Kapoor entered the office, calm and unbothered by the flurry of activity around her. Dressed in a stylish black kurta with intricate white embroidery, paired with casual blue jeans, she carried herself with grace. Her purse hung casually at her side, and her comfortable brown flats clicked lightly on the polished floor.

Her long, wavy hair framed her face, and her radiant smile brightened her features, making her approachable yet commanding attention. Her colleagues greeted her with polite nods, some whispering among themselves about the CEO’s early arrival and his possible intentions. Hema remained unaffected, her posture upright, her focus sharp.

Chris continued watching her on the screen, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. Every movement she made—the way she adjusted her purse strap, the slight tilt of her head as she spoke to the male employee—fueled his restlessness. He didn’t like feeling out of control, and Hema Kapoor seemed to have a way of unsettling him without even trying.

Picking up his phone, he dialed the extension of her department head.

“Send Hema Kapoor to my office. Now,” Chris ordered, his voice clipped and firm.

Hema’s department head approached her desk with a hesitant smile. “Hema, Mr. Zayden has asked to see you in his office immediately.”

Hema raised an eyebrow, her expression calm but curious. “Did he mention why?”

“No,” the department head replied, lowering his voice. “Just don’t keep him waiting. You know how he is.”

Taking a deep breath, Hema stood up, adjusted her kurta, and walked toward the CEO’s office. Her stride was confident, her posture straight, and her expression neutral. She knocked lightly on the frosted glass door.

“Come in,” came Chris’s deep, commanding voice.

Chris sat behind his sleek desk, his chair slightly turned to the side as he watched her enter. His piercing blue eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Hema stood straight, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, her calm gaze meeting his intense one.

“You called me, sir?” she asked, her voice steady.

Chris leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “Aren’t you a bit too late to be starting as an intern?”.

Hema blinked, but her composure didn’t waver. “I apologize, sir. There was heavy traffic on my way here.”

“Traffic,” Chris repeated, his tone laced with mild mockery. His lips curved into a faint smirk. “That’s the excuse you’re going with?”

“Yes, sir,” Hema replied plainly. “And it won’t happen again.”

Chris leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I expect it won’t. I don’t tolerate tardiness, Miss Kapoor. But since you’re here…” His voice turned sharper. “You mentioned during your interview that you could handle pressure. Let’s see if that’s true.”

Hema’s brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing her otherwise composed face.

Chris’s smirk widened, his gaze unwavering. “I want you to submit a project idea by the end of the day.”

Hema’s eyes widened briefly before she quickly masked her surprise. “By the end of the day?”

“Yes,” Chris replied coolly. “Unless that’s too much for you.”

Hema straightened her shoulders, her chin lifting slightly. “I’ll have it ready, sir.”

“Good,” Chris said, waving a hand dismissively. “You may go.”

Hema nodded and turned to leave. Chris’s gaze followed her, lingering on the way her kurta swayed as she walked. A faint smile tugged at his lips, though his expression remained otherwise impassive.

Back at her desk, Hema exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the edge of her chair. She replayed the conversation in her mind, feeling a mix of frustration and determination.

Meanwhile, Chris picked up his phone again. “Mark,” he said to his assistant, who answered on the first ring. “I need you to gather all the information you can on Hema Kapoor. Background, education, family—everything. I want it on my desk by tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” Mark replied without hesitation.

Chris hung up, his gaze drifting back to the screen that showed Hema working diligently at her desk. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. He didn’t know why she intrigued him so much, but he intended to find out.

Hema spent the rest of her day brainstorming ideas, her focus unwavering. Her posture remained upright, her movements deliberate. She jotted down notes, her pen flying across the pages of her notebook. Occasionally, she pushed her hair back from her face, her expression thoughtful.

As the clock ticked closer to the deadline, Hema finished her proposal. She reviewed it one last time, printed it out, and neatly bound it before heading back to Chris’s office. Her steps were calm but purposeful, her confidence intact.

Chris was waiting when she entered, holding the document in her hands. She placed it on his desk with a steady hand, her posture composed.

“My project idea, sir,” she said simply.

Chris picked up the file, flipping through it with a practiced eye. He didn’t say anything as he read, his expression remaining neutral. When he finally looked up, his gaze met hers with a glimmer of approval.

“Impressive,” he said, his tone neutral.

“Thank you, sir,” Hema replied, her voice steady.

Chris leaned back, tapping the file lightly against the desk. “Let’s see if your execution matches your planning.”

Hema gave a small nod. “It will, sir.”

As she left the office, Chris’s gaze lingered on her retreating figure. For the first time in a long while, he felt intrigued. Hema Kapoor was different, and he intended to learn everything about her. This was just the beginning.

After an hour Mark came with the information he collected. Chris leaned back in his leather chair, his expression unreadable as he was looking at the monitor seeing her working and hearing to the information Mark has collected the same time.

Mark stood to the side, his hands folded behind him, started telling him.

“Living with her grandmother in a modest apartment. Mother and brother deceased. Father works as a laborer in South India, heavy drinker, no contact with daughter.”

“She doesn’t speak to her father?” Chris asked, his voice calm but inquisitive.

Mark nodded. “Yes, sir. It seems she has no communication with him due to his behavior. She’s entirely self-reliant.”

For someone so young, Hema Kapoor carried an extraordinary burden. Yet, she hadn’t let it show. In the short time he’d observed her, she radiated a quiet confidence and resilience. It made him wonder how she managed to appear so composed.

“Anything else?” Chris asked, his tone now sharper.

“Not much more of note, sir. She seems to maintain a simple life—no boyfriend ,no indulgences, no significant social circle apart from her grandmother and a childhood friend named Arvind, who lives in the same apartment complex.”

Chris’s jaw clenched slightly. The mention of Arvind—the man she’d walked in with earlier—rekindled the flicker of possessiveness he’d felt that morning.

“That’s all for now, Mark,” Chris said, waving a hand dismissively. “You may go”

“Yes, sir,” Mark replied, retreating from the office.