The next morning, the lingering heat from last night's messages still pulsed through Gauri's veins. Every thought of Omkara his words, his teasing, the way he made her ache with a single glance made her pulse stutter.

She tried to focus on work, letting Rikara settle into her school routine, but her mind kept replaying the electric brush of his hands, the wolfed edge beneath his calm restraint. Her phone buzzed suddenly, and she jumped. Another message from him:

"Thinking about you already. Can't wait to see you... later."

Her breath hitched. Later? At the office?

The office hummed with its usual rhythm of phones, printers, and soft conversations. Gauri sat at her desk, reviewing reports, trying to shake off the morning's heat. She was just reaching for her tea when the reception phone buzzed.

"Ms. Sharma?" the receptionist called through the intercom. "A Mr. Omkara... he's here and requests to meet you."

Gauri froze, teacup halfway to her lips. Omkara? Here? Now?

"Send him in," she said, trying to steady her voice, though a tremor betrayed her calm.

Her hands shook slightly as she smoothed her blouse, taking a deep breath. He's here for business... right? He can't just... I can't...

Minutes later, the door to the lobby opened. He stepped in, suit impeccably tailored, briefcase in hand, eyes scanning the room with that same sharp intensity that always left her knees weak. Controlled, professional, commanding but utterly magnetic.

"Ms. Gauri Sharma?" he asked, voice calm, measured, projecting authority rather than intimacy.

"Yes... I'm Gauri," she said, standing, hands clasped tightly. Her pulse hammered. The office suddenly felt smaller.

"I'm Omkara," he said smoothly, nodding politely. "I requested this meeting to discuss—" He paused, glancing at her expression, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "...professional matters."

Gauri blinked, forcing herself to focus. Professional. Business. Not him. Not us.

"Of course," she said softly, keeping her tone steady. "Right this way. My office is this way."

As she led him down the corridor, every step felt impossibly slow. Her mind flitted between reminders to stay composed and the magnetic pull of him close, restrained, yet fully alive. She could feel her pulse in her throat, every nerve hyper-aware.

Once inside her office, she gestured to the chair across from her desk. "Please, have a seat."

He nodded, setting his briefcase carefully on the floor beside him. Every movement was deliberate, controlled wolf restrained, but the intensity simmered just beneath the surface.

Gauri's thoughts tangled between professional obligation and personal longing. Stay calm. Keep it professional. But... he's right here. My office. And that look he hasn't left me even for a second.

Omkara's gaze met hers briefly, respectful, yet the familiar wolfed edges flickered for the smallest heartbeat, and she felt herself lose a little ground to the storm inside her.

"I'll start," he said smoothly, opening his briefcase. Then, voice dropping just slightly, teasing beneath the professionalism: "But... Ms. Sharma, I hope you don't mind if I take a moment to... enjoy seeing you here. Professionally, of course."

Gauri swallowed, cheeks heating, pulse hammering. Professionally? He's killing me professionally.

The meeting began: official papers, numbers, reports. Yet every glance he threw her way, every subtle shift in posture, reminded her that no amount of protocol could erase the pull between them or the storm that had only grown stronger since last night.

The meeting progressed with all the trappings of professionalism: charts, contracts, financial reports, and legal clauses. Gauri's fingers moved swiftly over her notes, her mind focused—or trying to be—on the numbers and wording in front of her.

And then her phone buzzed.

She froze mid-sentence, heart lurching. Glancing discreetly at the screen, she saw his name flashing again: Omkara.

"Thinking about how you'd feel if I slid my hand under your skirt right now... right there, in your chair."

Gauri's face burned crimson. She shot him a glare so sharp it could have cut glass, though he was sitting across the table, perfectly calm, a faint smirk ghosting his lips.

Her inner voice scrambled. I can't. Not here. Not now. Stay professional. Don't lose it.

Omkara, sensing her reaction without needing a glance at her phone, leaned back slightly, letting the smirk linger, wolf restrained but teasing, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Gauri shoved her phone into her bag with a small huff, trying to refocus. Her cheeks were still hot, pulse hammering, as she scribbled notes and forced her attention back to the meeting. She could feel his eyes flicking to her occasionally, sharp and knowing, and she resisted the urge to snap at him.

Finally, the meeting wrapped up. Papers were signed, handshakes exchanged, and Omkara collected his briefcase with calm precision, his every movement deliberate, controlled dangerously close to pulling her attention again.

As they walked toward the door, he paused just outside her office, voice low, measured, yet carrying that same teasing undercurrent that had plagued her all morning.

"Ms. Sharma," he said, glancing at her with those dark, wolfed eyes, "I'd like to meet with you in your office later. I need some legal advice... nothing urgent, but I thought it better we discuss it privately."

Gauri's stomach flipped. Private. Office. Him. Oh gods, he knows exactly what he's doing.

She swallowed, forcing her voice calm, professional. "Of course, Mr. Omkara. Let me know when would be convenient."

He gave a small, knowing smile, wolf restrained, yet the hunger in his gaze was impossible to hide. "I'll drop by this afternoon. Be ready."

As he left, Gauri exhaled shakily, gripping her desk. The heat from the morning texts, the stolen glances, the tension in the meeting it all surged back, coiling tight in her chest.

Professional... she whispered to herself, though her body and mind had already decided that professionalism would be impossible once he returned.