Now that Naina had worked in this building for three months, the screams no longer made her jump out of her skin every time she entered the lobby.

She still had no idea why there was a pool under the bungee jump. Possibly to make the mess easier to clean when the bungee cord broke?

The glass capsule elevator in which she made her way up should’ve seemed a bit much for an office building, but there was an amusement park in the lobby. The elevator almost felt anticlimactic.

She got out on the fifty-second floor, where Jignesh had given her a suite of offices.

Mariel, her admin assistant, who made it a point to not crack a smile until at least two P.M. and four coffees, grinned widely at Naina. What on earth was that smile supposed to mean?

Naina thought she knew all of Mariel’s smiles.

The “get your own damn coffee” smile. The “how much did that dress you’re wearing cost” smile. The “you’re taking the team out for lunch today because we’ve had a hard day” smile. Mariel wasn’t exactly well versed in boundaries, but this smile gave boundaries a hearty shove.

“Good morning, boss.” Mariel bounced in her baby-pink leather chair. Why Jiggy had given Naina an office decorated in every shade of pink, Naina didn’t know. She had a lifelong hate-hate relationship with the color. “Or should I say good afternoon?” She wiggled her brows in a most inappropriately suggestive manner.

“Hi, Mariel. What’s going on?”

Her assistant threw a glance over her shoulder and made a face one usually saved for girls’ nights at Chippendales.

“Is Mr. Mehta here?” Naina asked.

Mariel, and the rest of Naina’s team, had this way of getting weird when she had a meeting with Jignesh. During her first few weeks in the office, he had sent her extravagant flower arrangements every few days. Roses. Not your usual locally grown ones but some blue and pink variety from the Amazon—not the one you opened up on your laptop to order random things, but the rain forest that grew around the river in South America.

When Naina had told him to stop, he’d ordered birds of paradise from Hong Kong. She’d had to spell it out and ask him to stop giving her gifts and asking her out and showing any personal interest in her at all. How did the CEO of a company with over fifty thousand employees not understand the basics of workplace ethics and sexual harassment in the 2020s? Where was his legal department?

Finally, that was the question that had made him stop. Even though she’d had to phrase it as a joke.

The suggestive smiles from her team whenever she had a meeting with Mehta had become a permanent thing. She was pretty sure those smiles were ironic. These were . . . not.