Arjun’s hands trembled as he placed the documents on the mahogany surface, but as he tried to pull away, he felt a hand—warm, soft, and possessive—close around his wrist. He froze, his breath hitching in his throat. Sandhya didn't let go; instead, she pulled him a fraction closer, forcing him to lean over the desk until their faces were inches apart.

"The projections look fine, Arjun," she whispered, her voice a low vibration that seemed to resonate in his very marrow. "But you're shaking. Why are you shaking?"