“If you turn to page four of the report,” he continued, slightly faster than normal, “you’ll see the projections dar—... Ishani.”
The room went completely still.
“—I mean, the projections detailed by our analysis team,” he corrected, words gushing out.
Darling. He was about to call her darling in front of the entire executive team.
Heat flooded Ishani’s cheeks. She kept her eyes fixed on her tablet, not daring to look up. The silence stretched for three terrible heartbeats before Samrat cleared his throat.
“The Malaysian projections look ambitious,” Samrat said, voice carefully neutral despite the smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
The meeting stumbled back on track, but the damage was done. Ishani felt eyes on her—sideways glances, raised eyebrows, knowing smirks quickly hidden. She maintained her composure, back straight, expression neutral, but inside her heart raced like a trapped bird.
When the meeting finally ended, Ishani escaped to her desk, ignoring Kavya’s attempts to catch her eye. But barely fifteen minutes later, she found herself inventing an excuse to return to Raghav’s office.
“These documents need your signature right away,” she told him, voice professional, eyes betraying something else entirely.
“Of course,” he replied, closing his door behind her.
An hour later, she was back with “urgent revisions to the board presentation.”
By four o’clock, she’d visited his office five times, each excuse flimsier than the last. Each time, she emerged with slightly messier hair, lips a shade darker than before, a flush creeping up her neck that no amount of deep breathing could control.
“I need those forecasts finalized by the end of day,” she told Kavya, clutching a folder to her chest to hide the small mark just visible at her collarbone where Raghav’s teeth had grazed her skin.
“Sure,” Kavya replied, eyes narrowing as she took in Ishani’s rumpled appearance. “You know your blouse is buttoned wrong, right?”
Ishani glanced down in horror. The third button had been slipped into the fourth hole, creating a subtle but noticeable asymmetry.
“I was in a rush this morning,” she lied, turning quickly toward the bathroom. “Thanks for noticing.”
“No problem,” Kavya called after her, voice lilting with suspicion. “By the way, the boss has lipstick on his collar. Might want to tell him before the client call.”
Ishani’s steps faltered. She didn’t look back, just continued to the bathroom with as much dignity as she could muster, her cheeks burning with the knowledge that their secret was rapidly becoming the worst-kept one in Khanna Consolidated history.
Chapter 18
By Wednesday morning, Ishani realized they were fighting a losing battle.
She sat at her desk, typing an email with one hand while the other rested on her keyboard. The watch caught the light—elegant silver with a mother-of-pearl face, subtle diamonds marking the hours. Exactly like the one on Raghav’s wrist, except his was larger, more masculine in its design. The matching set had appeared on her wrist the previous evening. Raghav had made her wear it.
Now the watch felt like a flashing neon sign, announcing what they were trying to hide.
She should have left it at home. Should have explained to Raghav that matching accessories screamed “couple” louder than if they’d worn T-shirts with each other’s faces printed on them. But the way his eyes had lit up when she’d put it on—that rare, genuine smile that transformed his entire face—had made it impossible to take off.
Now she was paying for that weakness. Twice already she’d caught Samrat staring at her wrist, then glancing meaningfully toward Raghav’s office. The whispers had started around ten, after Raghav gestured during a team huddle, his sleeve pulling back to reveal his matching timepiece.
“Did you see?” she overheard an intern whisper to a colleague by the copier. “Same watch. Exactly the same, just sized differently.”
“And have you noticed she’s wearing her hair down this week? She keeps touching it when she thinks no one’s looking.”
Ishani resisted the urge to gather her hair into its usual neat bun. That would only confirm their suspicions. Instead, she stood, smoothing her skirt with deliberate casualness, and headed to the break room for coffee.
She was stirring cream into her cup when Kavya cornered her, blocking the exit with crossed arms and narrowed eyes.
“Spill it,” Kavya demanded. “And don’t give me that innocent face. I’ve been watching you two for days.”
Ishani took a careful sip from her cup. “I don’t know what you mean.”