Shoma Narayanan - An Offer She Can't Refuse

‘Please, Darius?’ she said, and when he didn’t react immediately she reached across the table and took his hand. ‘Look into my eyes,’ she pleaded.

He complied, trying not to notice how soft her skin was, and how her slim and capable-looking hand fitted perfectly into his.

‘At least try to pretend you’re my date,’ she begged despairingly.

He laughed. ‘You’re not doing a great job either,’ he pointed out. ‘The whole “deer caught in headlights” look doesn’t suggest you’re crazy about me.’

She managed to chuckle at that, and her expression was so appealing that he sighed and put on what he hoped was a suitably infatuated look. Actually, after a second he found he was quite enjoying himself. He had a keen sense of humour, and despite his attempts to remain professional when faced with such an attractive interviewee, the situation was so completely ridiculous it was funny.

He was supposed to be evaluating Mallika for an important role in his company, and instead here he was, holding her hand and gazing deeply into her eyes. Rather beautiful eyes, actually—the momentarily helpless Bambi look was gone now, replaced with an apprehensive but intriguingly mischievous little sparkle.

‘My goodness, Mallika, what a surprise!’

The woman who’d stopped by their table was middle-aged and plump and terribly overdressed. Purple silk, loads of fussy jewellery, and make-up that would have put a Bollywood item girl to shame.

‘Hi, Vaishali,’ Mallika looked up with a suitably friendly smile, but she didn’t let go of Darius’s hand.

‘So this was your “urgent personal meeting”, was it?’ Vaishali leaned closer to Darius. ‘Mallika’s kept you a pretty closely guarded secret, I must say.’

‘We … um … met recently,’ Darius said, trying not to gag at the cloud of cloying perfume. It was like being smothered to death by lilies—the woman must have poured an entire bottle of perfume over herself.

‘Ah, well, you deserve to have some fun,’ the woman was saying to Mallika, patting her hand in a surprisingly motherly way. ‘I’ll leave you with your young man, shall I? See you at work tomorrow!’

Her husband had been waiting patiently by her side, and Vaishali tucked her hand in his arm and trotted off with a final wave.

Mallika sighed in relief. ‘Close shave,’ she said as she released Darius’s hand.

Clearly it was no longer of any use to her, but Darius felt absurdly bereft. When he’d first seen her he’d thought Mallika strikingly good-looking, in a natural, outdoorsy kind of way—not his type at all. Now, however, he found himself wishing that she’d held on to his hand just a little bit longer, and the feeling surprised him.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he had lost control of the situation, and why he had not asserted himself in his usual role. He usually went for graceful, ultra-feminine women—the kind who’d learnt ballet when they were young and who dabbled in poetry in their spare time. While she was conservatively dressed, in a business suit, Mallika looked as if she’d spent her youth playing cricket with boys and beating them in every game.

Writing off his reaction to her as a momentary aberration, Darius tried to make sense of what had just happened.

‘Is she that scary?’ Darius asked, and when Mallika didn’t answer, he prompted, ‘Your boss?’

She bit her lip. ‘No, she isn’t,’ she said after a brief pause. ‘She’s actually rather nice.’

He was about to ask her why she’d been so nervous, then, but he held the words back. This was a business meeting, and the fewer personal questions he asked the better. Only he didn’t feel very businesslike right now. When she’d bitten down on her lower lip his eyes had been automatically attracted to her mouth, and now he couldn’t look away. Her lips were full and soft-looking and utterly feminine, and completely in contrast to her direct gaze and the firm lines of her chiselled face …

Okay, this was crazy—sitting and staring at a woman he’d met fifteen minutes ago. One whom he was supposed to be interviewing for a directorship.

‘We didn’t get very far with our discussion,’ he said, trying to sound as if his interest in her was limited to her suitability for the role he’d been telling her about. ‘There’s a decent restaurant on the twenty-first floor. Would you prefer going there? Less chance your boss might pop up again.’

Mallika hesitated. It had seemed so glamorous when someone from the Nidas Group had headhunted her to discuss a director level role. Nidas was big—it had been set up by a bunch of young dotcom entrepreneurs a decade ago, and they’d struck gold in almost every business they’d tried their hand at.

They’d started off with online share trading and investments, but later branched off into venture capital and real estate and done much better than players who’d been in the market for thrice the time. Being considered for a directorship in the firm at the age of twenty-nine was a huge ego-boost—it wouldn’t have been possible in any other firm, but at Nidas the directors were quite young, and they didn’t hold her age against her.

Her first few meetings with Nidas had been preliminary ones, screening her for this final interview with Darius Mistry. For a few days she’d actually thought she could do it—be like any of the other women she’d gone to business school with, take charge of her career, interview with other employers, pretend that she had a normal life like everyone else. Reality was sinking in only now.

She glanced across at Darius. When she’d heard the name she’d imagined a paunchy, cheerful, white-haired man—she’d had a Parsi drama teacher at school who’d also been called Darius, and he’d looked just like Santa Claus minus the beard. Darius Mistry had come as a bit of a surprise.

True, his Persian ancestry showed in his pale colouring and hawklike features, but he was in his early thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, and as unlike her former drama teacher as an eagle from a turkey. Not good-looking in the traditional sense, more disturbingly attractive, and he emanated a quiet power and control that had Mallika caught in its glow.

He was still waiting for her to answer, she realised. ‘No, I’m fine here,’ she said. ‘Actually, I just made up my mind. I don’t think I want to take the interview any further. I’m sorry—I should have thought this through properly.’

Darius frowned. This afternoon really was not going to plan. Mallika had been interviewed by his HR team, as well as by one of his colleagues, and everyone who’d met her had been very impressed. Apparently she’d come across as being sharply intelligent and very, very good at what she did. He’d also looked at the performance of the real estate fund she managed. It had done extremely well, even in a volatile and completely unpredictable market, and before he’d met Mallika he’d built up an image of a hard-nosed, practical businesswoman.

The reality was different enough to be intriguing.

For a few seconds he wondered if she was playing hard to get. People used all kinds of techniques to drive up the benefits package they were offered, but very few started so early in the process. And Mallika looked troubled, a little upset—whatever the reason for her sudden decision to stop the interview process, it definitely wasn’t a hard-nosed or practical one.

‘You’ve spent almost five years with your current firm,’ he said. ‘I know the thought of switching jobs can be a bit overwhelming, but there’s no harm going through with the interview process, is there? Once you hear what we’re offering you can always say no.’

‘I guess …’ she said slowly. ‘I just don’t want to waste your time.’