Recap: Ryan's taking me somewhere?

The elevator dinged open, and Ryan strode out confidently, as always, leading the way. I trudged after him, fiddling with my bag strap, until we stopped abruptly.

My jaw? It officially lost its hinges.

Standing before us was a cherry-red Ferrari. Not just any Ferrari-this one looked like it had been plucked straight from a luxury car commercial. My eyes widened as Ryan casually unlocked it with a beep, its scissor doors soaring skyward like wings preparing for takeoff. Wings!

"Another beautiful car?" I managed to ask, climbing into the passenger seat. The rich musky scent hit me like a velvet hammer. The seats, the dash, the glinting gear shift-it was all so shiny.

Ryan slid into the driver's seat, looking entirely too smug for someone who owned such a dangerous beauty.

"I guess I'll have to sit on its hood too," I said with a small laugh, the memory of perching on his Porsche last time making me bite back a grin.

Ryan shot me a sharp look, his fingers pausing momentarily on the steering wheel.

"No," he said, firmly.

"Wow, so quick to deny my kind, selfless offer." I raised an eyebrow. Shit! Did I scratched his Porsche when I sat on it last time? If I did... Oh no.

Does the witness protection program accept accidental car scratchers? Asking for a friend.

"It's not that," he said, glancing at me briefly before shifting the car into drive.

"Really? Then what? Afraid I'll scratch this one too?" I asked, testing-the-waters.

His lips curled into a smirk that screamed trouble.
"Quite the opposite."

My brain stopped. My entire brain just stopped its activities, pondering upon his words.

Opposite?
What does that even mean?
Was he suggesting the car would scratch me?
Or worse... was he collecting evidence against me?

Stop! Stop overthinking, every goddamn thing.

"Can you at least tell me where we're going?" I finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," he said, his smirk widening as his foot pressed down on the accelerator.

I clutched the sides of my seat as we zoomed onto the road like we were escaping a crime scene.

"Ryan, I swear, if I die, I'm gonna haunt you," I muttered, gripping tighter.

His only response was a low chuckle. Great. Just great.

______

The car slid to a stop in front of a boutique so pristine and glossy, I felt underdressed just looking at it. The black-and-gold letters gleamed under the sunlight, and the oversized glass doors were flanked by two perfectly trimmed topiaries.

"Why are we here?",I asked, hesitating as Ryan stepped out of the car. The glossy windows practically screamed 'If you have to ask the price, you can't afford it.'

He came around to my side and opened the door for me.

"You'll see," he said with a maddening smirk.

I reluctantly got out, my shoes clicking against the polished stone walkway.

"If this is another one of your billionaire flexes, I'm not impressed."

"Who said I was trying to impress you?" he shot back, gesturing toward the entrance.

I rolled my eyes at his arrogant ass. But regardless followed him in.

The moment we stepped inside, the boutique's interior assaulted my senses with its sheer shining rays. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting soft, sparkling light over rows of meticulously arranged clothing.

Everything-from the sleek mannequins to the plush carpeting-screamed exclusivity.

"Whatever it is," I whispered as my special price sandal squeaked against the marble floor.
"Make it quick."

A tall woman with flawless makeup and an intimidatingly sleek black dress approached us.

"Mr. Roy," she greeted Ryan with a professional smile. "Welcome back."

"Hi, Rita,"Ryan said, casual as ever. "I'll need your best today. She-" he gestured toward me "-needs a wardrobe upgrade."

"Excuse me?" I spluttered, with my eyes wide open.

"You need new clothes."

I glanced down at my outfit. An off-white embroidered kurti that I had paired with denim. It wasn't haute couture, sure, but it was clean, decent, and most importantly, mine.

"I think I'm good, thanks," I mumbled.

"No, you're not," Ryan said simply, placing a hand on my back pushing me inside.

"I didn't agreed to this-"

"That's the beauty of it. You don't have to agree."

______

"Too frumpy," he commented almost immediately, when I emerged in a loose-fitting slip on dress. I huffed out loud, entering again with another outfit.

I tried on something with sequins and feathers.
"This isn't a costume party,"

I glared at him.
"You're enjoying this way too much."

"Of course I am," he said, unapologetically.

I turned to face Rita, who was holding back a smile. "Do you sell duct tape here? Because I'd like to silence him"

Ryan chuckled, unfazed.

"Keep the jokes coming. I don't mind it, at all."He shrugged.

Ugh! Should I strangle him, or myself?

"You're stalling. Go try the next one," he ordered, gesturing toward the pile of clothes Rita had waiting for me.
She handed me a shimmering burgundy dress.

"Try this one," she ushered me back into the fitting room.

It was a mid-length bodycon dress. I'm not usually a fan of bodycon dresses, but I reluctantly slipped into it-and for once, I couldn't find anything to complain about. It hugged my figure perfectly, the fabric cool and silky against my skin.

Maybe that's the magic of good branding?

Let's consult my idiotic majesty's quick, unfiltered opinion.
Taking a huge breath, I finally stepped out.

As soon as Ryan saw me, his smirk faltered, his gaze shifting to something softer as it lingered on me. It was quick-barely a second-but enough to make my stomach flip before he looked away.
After a quick cough, he was back.
And by he, I mean- my boss. The gaze was too stern, and his eyes held raw judgemental emotions.

"What? " I asked, fidgeting under his gaze.

"Nothing," he said too quickly, turning away.

"Isn't it nice?"
I twirled around, deciding to focus on the dress instead of...my inside.

"Yeah, I mean... the dress is beautiful."
Ryan stated, somehow uncharacteristically sincere.

Rita beamed. "This is the one."

"Agreed," Ryan smiles , standing up. "We'll take it."

"We?" I asked, snapping out of my daze.

He waved me off.
"Consider it a gift. For your first successful project."

"I can't.. I can't accept this," I bit my lips, shaking my head. "It's too much."

"You can, and you will," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Don't you wanna impress my parents?"

I frowned at him.
What does he mean by that?

"Why would I-"

"Mr. Ryan Roy!"

I was abruptly cut off by the booming voice of a man. The three of us turned to look at him as he strode in, wearing an easygoing smile and a sharp suit, like he'd just signed a million-dollar deal.

Oh my Gawd! When did my life turn into a fashion show for businessmen?

"Rohan Raichand," Ryan called, walking up to him with a grin.
"What are you doing here? Don't you own, like, twenty of these stores? Shouldn't you be off counting your money or something?"

Oh! so he did in fact must've signed a million dollar deal!

"Funny," Rohan replied, patting Ryan on the shoulder. "I could ask you the same thing. What brings you here, Roy? Shopping for yourself?"

"Not quite," Ryan said, nodding toward me. "She's the project."

"Project?" I repeated indignantly.
"I'm standing right here, you know."

Rohan's eyes twinkled with amusement.
"You must be Aisha. I've heard a lot about you."

"Wait-what?" I muttered, crossing my arms.

But before Rohan could respond, a young woman stepped inside, clutching a folder tightly to her chest. She paused at the entrance, her eyes darting around the room nervously.

My own eyes widened as recognition hit me.

"Dina?" I gasped, stepping forward.

Her head snapped toward me, relief washing over her face.
"Aisha! Oh my God, what are you doing here?"

I gestured to the pile of rejected clothes on the nearby chair. "Apparently, I'm shopping ." I tilted my head toward Ryan, stretching the word 'shopping' for a bit long. Take a hint!
"What about you?"

"I'm here for an interview," she said, quietly. Her eyes darted to the other occupants of the room before returning to me.

"Wait, here? At this boutique?"

"Yes, I'm here to meet Rohan Raichand-"

"Right here," came Rohan's voice as he stepped forward with his usual easy confidence, extending a hand to Dina.
"You must be Dina. Nice to meet you."

For a moment, Dina froze. Her face turned pale, her eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights.

Her gaze lingered on his outstretched hand for what felt like an eternity.

"Dina?" I prompted, glancing between her and Rohan.

"H-hi. Yes. Nice to meet you too," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. She shook his hand for a fleeting second before snatching it back, like she'd touched fire. I frowned, noticing the slight tremor in her hands.

Rohan looked faintly amused, one brow arching, but he didn't press.

Dina, on the other hand, looked like she'd just seen a ghost-or maybe an exorcist.

Something was definitely off.

Rohan chuckled. "Anyway," he said, turning to face Ryan and me. "I'll leave you to it. Rita, could you-"

"Wait," Dina blurted out, her voice cracking at the end.

Rohan paused, one eyebrow lifting in surprise.

Dina spun to me, grabbing my arm in a death grip. "Aisha. Bathroom. Now," she hissed through clenched teeth.

I frowned. "What!"

"Now," she repeated, already dragging me toward the back of the boutique.

We slipped into the luxurious restroom-complete with orchids in tiny vases-and Dina locked the door, spinning to face me like a cornered animal.

"That's him," she said, her voice urgent.

I blinked, confused. "Him who?"

Her lips tightened into a grim line before she whispered so quietly I could barely hear,
"The guy. From that night."

Oh. My. God. It hit me like a truck.

"Wait. Him? You're sure?"

"Yes."she hissed, her eyes wild.
"I didn't exactly remember his face, but... I remember that stupid ring-it left a mark on my wrist that took days to fade."

I blinked, stunned as my brain scrambled to process this bombshell.

Dina grabbed my arm suddenly, her grip tightening just a little too much.

"Aisha, you have to help me. I can't do this. I can't interview with him!"

"First of all-ouch," I muttered, wincing. "And second, why not? Maybe he doesn't even remember-"

"Oh, he remembers," she interrupted sharply, her eyes wide with panic. "Trust me, he remembers. He specifically asked me to meet him here, while the main interview is happening two streets away!"

Wait! What?

She paced back and forth, her movements sharp and frantic. Then, she froze, shooting me a quick, worried glance.

"It's an exclusive interview, Aisha. I'm starting to doubt it's even an interview."

"Dina, calm down. You're overthinking-"

"Overthinking?" she hissed, her voice rising an octave. "I slept with my potential boss!"

My mouth fell open, the words caught up in my throat. Before I could respond, a firm knock sounded on the door.

"Everything okay in there?" Ryan's voice cut through, low and pointed, as if he already suspected something

"Fine!" Dina and I chorused, though my voice cracked while hers shot up an octave.

I leaned closer to Dina, grabbing her arms, giving her a light shake.
"You've got to pull yourself together. This is your chance to get the job. Just be professional."

"Professional?" Dina hissed. "I woke up in his bed, Aisha! How do you suggest I do that?"

"Okay, okay. Look, maybe this is just one of those crazy coincidences. You'll do the interview, and if he brings it up, you'll-"

"Die?" she suggested meekly.

"-politely explain that you're here professionally," I finished, ignoring her theatrics.

"If I stay, he'll know I need this job," Dina whispered, her voice cracking. She inhaled sharply, squaring her shoulders.
"I just... I can't give him that power."
She groaned, burying her face in her hands, mumbling incoherent words.

Suddenly, the bathroom door rattled, the handle twisting and jerking frantically.

We both froze, staring at it, horrified.
Dina's wide eyes locked on mine, her lips trembled.
I didn't know what scared me more-the door rattling behind us or the mess waiting outside!

"Aisha?"

Assh*le!