Avni's POV
The conference venue looked like something out of a Netflix political drama—gleaming marble floors, flags from every country draped in perfect symmetry, and a registration desk manned by exhausted volunteers who already regretted signing up.
I clutched my delegate badge as if it were a shield. Italy – WHO Committee.
My heels clicked against the floor as I stepped into the main hall. Conversations swirled around me—policy jargon, nervous laughter, caffeine-fueled ambition.
And then, silence.
Not actual silence, but the kind that happens when someone enters a room and everyone feels it.
I turned toward the source, half out of curiosity, half out of instinct.
A tall guy—broad-shouldered, hair tousled like it was designed by chaos and a good stylist—strode in like he owned the oxygen. He wore a charcoal grey suit that looked like it cost more than my monthly rent, paired with a face that screamed danger and charm in equal measure.
And arrogance.
So much arrogance, it practically trailed behind him like a designer cologne.
He didn't glance at anyone. He didn't need to.
I scoffed under my breath. "Great. Mafia Ken's here to play dress-up."
"Avni?" a voice called. One of the volunteers, clipboard in hand.
"Yes?" I stepped forward.
"You're sharing your country delegation. Italy. WHO. Your co-delegate just arrived."
I turned slowly.
And there he was.
The Devil in Armani.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly recognizing me as his partner. "Oh. I was hoping for someone with... edge."
"I was hoping for someone who could spell World Health Organization without needing a teleprompter," I replied, sweetly.
His grin widened, like my insult was a challenge he wanted to frame and hang on his wall. "Well then, cara mia, I guess we'll both be disappointed."
Abhimanyu's POV
This place reeked of too much perfume and not enough purpose.
I scanned the room as I entered, already counting down the hours until I could leave. But then—I saw her.
Dark blazer. Confident posture. Sharp mouth. Sharper eyes.
She looked like she belonged here. Like she gave a damn.
And I knew immediately: she was going to be annoying.
The kind who corrected footnotes in shared documents and gave five-minute speeches on proper diplomatic protocol. A real policy princess.
I'd seen her type before. Smart. Righteous. Unshakable.
The exact type I liked to break.
When the volunteer introduced her as my co-delegate, she looked like someone had handed her a used tissue.
I almost laughed.
"I was hoping for someone with edge," I said lazily.
She didn't miss a beat. "I was hoping for someone who could spell World Health Organization without needing a teleprompter."
Okay. Cute. She had bite.
The chair called us in before I could retort, and soon we were seated side by side—Italy's dynamic disaster duo.
I caught her glaring at the agenda. She was already scribbling notes. Probably rewriting the whole plan in her head. Meanwhile, I leaned back, watching her like a cat watching a laser pointer.
When the chair finally looked our way, she announced, "Delegates of Italy, the floor is yours."
We both opened our mouths.
At the same time.
Our words clashed like cymbals, the entire committee pausing to stare.
I stopped. She stopped. And then we turned slowly toward each other.
I gave her a dry smile. "After you, principessa."
She narrowed her eyes. "You sure? I wouldn't want to steal the spotlight from your ego."
I leaned in just slightly, enough to watch her bristle. "Sweetheart, I am the spotlight."
Avni's POV (continued)
I took the floor.
Delivered the intro. Pointed, calm, confident. As I spoke about Italy's role in global vaccine equity, I could feel him beside me, exuding smug disinterest.
I finished, nodded at the chair, and sat down.
He clapped—once. Slowly. Mocking.
"You rehearsed that in the mirror, didn't you?"
I smiled at him sweetly. "I did. Right after writing your part too, since you clearly didn't."
His smirk didn't fade, but there was something new in his eyes. Amusement, sure—but also… interest.
Not the flirty kind. The competition kind.
Good. Let him try.
I've survived six years of med school, surgery rotations, and overnight ER shifts. He may be used to controlling rooms, but I'm used to saving lives.
Let's see who wins this round.
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Abhimanyu's POV (continued)
She spoke well. Too well.
She was poised, articulate, dangerously intelligent. And the worst part?
She had the moral high ground. That smug, untouchable energy of someone who actually believed in what she was saying.
I hated how much I liked it.
No. I didn't like it. I just… respected it. Strategically.
This wasn't some school contest. This was a chance to sharpen my edges on someone worthy.
I cracked my neck and leaned into the mic.
"While my co-delegate is clearly a fan of structured optimism, I'd like to address the funding discrepancies that plague WHO reform. Italy has leverage, but only if it's willing to—how shall I put it—bend the usual ethics to save lives."
The room went quiet. The chair blinked.
Avni turned to me slowly. "Did you just suggest bribing WHO member states?"
I flashed her a charming smile. "No. I suggested incentivized persuasion. It's just diplomacy with teeth."
And just like that, the game had begun.