Chapter 10: Business with Boundaries

The VIP lounge of La Fortuna exuded quiet opulence—plush leather seating, soft golden lights, and an unspoken rule that only the most powerful sat here.

Siara took her seat across from Siddharth Menon, her posture poised yet relaxed. Menon loosened his tie slightly, signaling a shift from rigid formality to something more comfortable.

As the waiter approached, he looked at her with an easy smile. "A drink, Ms. Rajawat?"

Siara raised an eyebrow. "Water will do."

Menon chuckled, ordering whiskey for himself before leaning back.

"You know, you can drop the 'Mr. Menon' now," he said. "Siddharth is fine."

Siara tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a neutral smile. "We'll see about that."

He smirked but didn’t push further. Instead, he pulled out a sleek folder and placed it between them.

"Now, about the deal—"

They went over the final clauses, making slight adjustments where necessary. Menon, despite his relaxed demeanor, was sharp. He questioned things Siara had anticipated, countered clauses with calculated precision, and even pushed for minor but clever advantages.

But so did she.

At one point, he leaned back with a thoughtful hum. "I see why you’re called ruthless in business, Ms. Rajawat."

Siara didn’t miss a beat. "And I see why people say dealing with you is like playing chess—you never make a move without a hidden strategy."

He laughed. "Flattered."

The conversation flowed smoothly, shifting from strict business to a mix of strategic wit and underlying tension.

And then, as the final adjustments were made, Menon tapped his pen against the table and gave her a slow, assessing look.

"You know, I must say, apart from being one of the most brilliant businesswomen I’ve dealt with, you’re also quite..." he paused, eyes flickering with something unreadable, "intriguing."

Siara didn’t react immediately, instead casually flipping through the document. "I get that a lot."

Menon smirked, leaning slightly forward. "I don’t doubt that. But tell me something—do you ever let anyone get close, or do they have to pass an entire set of impossible tests first?"

Siara finally looked up, her gaze steady.

"Men who don’t respect boundaries usually don’t get a chance to test anything," she said, her voice smooth yet firm.

Menon chuckled, unfazed. "I like a challenge."

Siara’s lips curled slightly, but there was a distinct sharpness in her tone.

"Careful, Siddharth. Last time a man crossed a boundary with me, I slapped him across the face in front of the entire media."

The air between them shifted slightly.

Menon’s eyes gleamed with amusement, but there was also a flicker of acknowledgment.

"Ah yes, Ekansh Vardhan," he mused. "If I remember correctly, he wasn’t exactly an easy man to humiliate, yet you did it effortlessly."

Siara leaned in just a fraction, lowering her voice. "And that was over a misunderstanding. Imagine what I’d do if someone knowingly stepped out of line."

For the first time, Menon didn’t immediately respond.

Then, a slow grin spread across his face, and he lifted his hands in surrender. "Message received, Ms. Rajawat."

Siara took the final document, gave it a last once-over, and signed.

"Good," she said, standing up. "Now, if we're done here, I'll take my leave."

Menon didn’t stop her. Instead, as she gathered her things, he simply said, "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Siara."

She glanced at him, lips curving slightly. "Likewise... Siddharth."

And with that, she turned and walked out.

A Different Kind of Deal

As Siara made her way through the lounge, her eyes flicked across the room, casually observing.

A group of women sat at one of the tables, laughing and clinking their glasses. Their designer dresses shimmered under the dim lights, their carefree energy infectious.

Siara almost smiled at the contrast—here she was, leaving after sealing a major business deal, while others were simply enjoying the night.

Then, something caught her eye.

A man, dressed sharply but with a calculated air of arrogance, subtly reached into his pocket.

Her gaze sharpened.

His hand moved toward the drink of one of the women, fingers slipping something into the glass just as she turned away to talk to her friend.

Siara’s entire body tensed.

Her heartbeat slowed. The air around her stilled.

She opened her mouth—"Ruko!"—but the girl, oblivious, had already picked up her drink.

And sipped.

Siara’s stomach twisted.

She moved.