The Allure

Prompt from my dear friend on an omniscient POV:

Priya entered the 58-floor building with a sense of ownership. After all, she had worked at the law firm of Richman and Purzucker for several years now—she specialized in mergers and acquisitions, and was somewhat of an expert in it now. Today, senior Rip Schirtsoff had told her he had something really important to discuss—something that, he hoped, would make her happy. Everyone was talking of her promotion to junior partner, and she wondered, in spite of training herself not to speculate, was it true?

As she entered the elevator and pressed the button for the eighth floor, she saw her colleague Mark Palmer running toward her breathlessly. She kept the doors open and smiled at him. Mark and Priya didn't exactly get along very well. She avoided elevator chit-chat and played with her phone, to look busy. She had on her mind the upcoming merger of two of the city's leading retail chains.

Mark had a merger on his mind too, albeit a completely different one. He'd always had a thing for Priya and today, in her smart grey suit and skirt, she was looking hot, he decided. The top button of her silk blouse was carelessly undone (on purpose, Mark assumed, of course), simply adding to the allure. 

Priya moved away. Mark's reputation preceded him.  Sure, his face seemed chisselled and his muscles sculpted, and he looked like a Greek God, but he was supposed to chase anything in a skirt. Not something she wanted to get tangled with right now. Priya feigned to ignore him. 

Once he got one step closer when others entered the lift, his nose crinkled—what was that smell? Could not be her, could it?  It was like man-repellant spray. What was it called? An Indian friend had told him once. Mark racked his brains until it came to him—yes, sambhar. “Damn you, sambar,” Mark said, as he walked off as soon as the doors opened on their floor.