Strange Aroma in the Elevator

Runaway CEO

"You have got to be kidding me!" Lisa's voice sliced through the air, echoing off the walls of the packed conference room. Heads turned a sea of curious and concerned faces, all staring at her with a mix of confusion and wariness.

Lisa's eyes swept the room, catching the uncomfortable stares of her colleagues. She forced a tight smile, but her simmering anger was palpable. Her gaze zeroed in on Neha, her assistant, who visibly shrank under the intensity.

"Where. Is. She?" Lisa’s voice was a barely controlled hiss as she leaned in, her eyes blazing with a fury that could ignite the air between them. "Didn’t you tell her how crucial this meeting is?"

Neha, trembling slightly, nodded. She had reminded Miara a dozen times. But Miara was like a ghost—impossible to track down when she didn’t want to be found. The young assistant stammered out a response, but Lisa cut her off with a wave of her hand.

"Get out of my sight and find her. Now!" Lisa barked, spinning on her heel and storming into the break room, slamming the door behind her. Inside, she screamed into the void, her frustration boiling over.

Meanwhile, Neha let out a shaky breath and fished out her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed a familiar number.

"Where the hell have you been?" Neha snapped as soon as the line connected.

"Relax," came the sardonic reply on the other end. "I’ve been trying to track her down too. Not easy when you’re using the same tech she designed to stay off the grid."

"What kind of bodyguard are you if you can't even find the person you're supposed to protect?" Neha retorted, her voice tight as she sped toward the lobby, trying not to draw attention.

"I've been asking myself the same thing," the bodyguard replied with a hint of sarcasm. "Maybe next time, you can hire someone with psychic powers."

"Just find her before Lisa decides to fire both of us," Neha hissed before hanging up, sending a silent prayer to the universe for a miracle.

Back in the break room, Lisa paced furiously, her mind racing. She dialed Miara’s number for the hundredth time, and when the line finally connected, a sleepy voice answered.

"Hello?" Miara’s groggy tone sent Lisa's blood pressure skyrocketing.

"Why in the hell are you still sleeping? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Lisa spat, barely containing her fury. "Don’t bother answering—just get here in ten minutes. The board members are all waiting."

Lisa didn’t wait for a response before hanging up. She composed herself and strode confidently back into the conference room, pasting on a professional smile.

Meanwhile, Miara groggily opened one eye, surveying her unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn’t her bedroom. She sat up, her head pounding, and threw off the sheets. The balcony door caught her eye, and she staggered over, pushing it open.

The sight that greeted her left her speechless. The Eiffel Tower stood majestically in the distance. Panic set in as she realized Lisa was going to lose her mind.

"Um... Lisa?" Miara began, her voice uncertain. "I don’t think I can make it in ten minutes."

"What do you mean?" Lisa’s voice was sharp, all her focus on Miara now.

"I’m not in Delhi," Miara confessed, glancing back at the empty vodka bottle on the floor. "I’m in Paris."

There was a brief, stunned silence on the other end, followed by Lisa’s explosive scream. Miara winced, holding the phone away from her ear as Lisa unleashed a tirade.

"Listen, Lisa," Miara cut in, her tone lazy but firm. "You’re the VP. You can handle those old farts without me. Just remember who you are—I believe in you." Before Lisa could respond, Miara hung up and tossed the phone back on the bed, collapsing next to it with a groan. "What a way to ruin a vacation," she muttered before drifting back to sleep, completely unconcerned about the chaos she’d left behind.

Back at the office, Lisa sighed heavily as she re-entered the conference room, facing the eleven impatient board members. "I apologize for the delay. Unfortunately, Ms. Ahuja won’t be able to join us today due to a sudden illness. She sends her deepest regrets," Lisa said smoothly, watching as the board members murmured among themselves.

"Again?" one of the senior members scoffed. "This is the third time she’s missed a meeting. Seems like she’s not cut out for the responsibilities of a CEO."

Lisa bit back a retort, giving the old man a polite but pointed smile. "As you all know, Miara is exceptionally hardworking. She’s been pushing herself to the limit, which has unfortunately affected her health. But she’ll be back on her feet in no time."

With the issue settled—for now—Lisa moved on, leading the meeting with a poised professionalism that masked the storm brewing inside her.

Meanwhile, in the crisp evening air of Paris, Miara strolled, her dark hair cascading down her back, holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate. She drank in the sights, her worries far from her mind, until reality came crashing back with a phone call. With a resigned sigh, she booked the next flight back to Delhi.

The moment she stepped off the plane, a familiar figure stormed toward her—Ronit, her beleaguered bodyguard. "You know, a heads-up would be nice next time," he grumbled, snatching her bags out of her hands.

Miara chuckled, unfazed. "Where’s the fun in that? Learn to live a little, Ronit."

Ronit sighed, handing over the keys to her SUV. "Just… try not to wreck it, okay?"

Ignoring his concern, Miara slid into the driver’s seat, and after an uneventful drive, they arrived at her modest apartment building.

"I still don’t understand why you live here when you have a perfectly good mansion in the city," Ronit commented as they rode up the creaky elevator.

"This place feels like home, Ronit," Miara replied softly, pressing the button for the seventh floor.

Once inside, Ronit helped her with her bags, then headed out to stock her fridge with her favorite groceries, his sense of duty outweighing his exhaustion. After ensuring everything was in place, he locked the door behind him and made his way out.

As he left the building, he bumped into a man carrying a heavy box. Apologizing, Ronit hurried on his way, but the man paused, momentarily disoriented. A unique, intoxicating scent lingered in the air—a fragrance so captivating it made him smile despite his weariness. He wondered briefly who it belonged to before shaking off the thought and continuing on his way.