Chapter 9 #2
The Ishani who sat outside his office was composed to the point of precision. Every reaction measured. Every word chosen with care. She moved through the day like nothing ever caught her off balance.
This version was different.
“Then when will you come home to meet him?” her mother’s voice drifted through the speaker. “It’s been weeks, beta.”
Ishani straightened slightly, the familiar calm settling back over her shoulders. “Work’s hectic right now, Maa.”
“Work again,” her mother sighed.
Something in Raghav shifted at that. Something quieter. More unsettling. He’d grown used to the version of her that fit neatly into his world—efficient, contained, always in control. Seeing her like this, relaxed and unfiltered, made him aware of how little of her he actually knew.
And how much he wanted to.
The thought sat there, unexpected and uninvited, refusing to be dismissed.
“I’ll try to visit soon,” Ishani promised, her voice softening again. “Maybe in a few days, once things settle down.”
“Your father misses you,” her mother said. “He won’t say it, but he checks your old room every day, as if expecting you to appear. Come tomorrow naa, it’s a Sunday.”
Ishani’s head tilted slightly, a gesture of affection that melted Raghav’s heart. “Tell him I miss him too. Both of you. But I can’t come tomorrow. We are working this weekend to prepare for the Singapore acquisition before this financial year ends.”
She shifted on the couch, turning slightly toward the door, and Raghav pulled back into the shadows of the hallway. His heart hammered against his ribs—a reaction he typically associated with closing major acquisitions, not with nearly being caught spying on his assistant’s personal call.
“I should go,” Ishani told her mother. “The meeting must have been over by now. He might need me for notes.”
“Always so responsible,” her mother replied fondly. “Call tomorrow? Your father will want to show you how Kaju has already learned to catch the ball.”
“I will,” Ishani promised, her voice warm with a tenderness Raghav wished was directed at him.
With effort, he forced himself to turn away, to return to his office with the same measured steps that had brought him down the hallway. But the image stayed with him—Ishani laughing, unguarded and real, a version of her he suddenly, desperately wanted for himself alone.
He closed his office door behind him with a soft click. He moved to the window, hands clasped tightly behind his back as he stared out at Mumbai’s glittering skyline, the city spread before him like a kingdom he’d conquered yet still felt empty.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He ignored it the first time, unwilling to break the spiral of his thoughts. When it persisted, he pulled it out with a sharp exhale of irritation. The screen displayed a name that almost made him smile. Almost.
“Abhinav,” he answered, voice betraying none of the turmoil within.
“Raghav!” His friend’s voice boomed through the speaker, the slight echo suggesting he was on a balcony or terrace. “Still working at—what time is it there? Almost eleven? Some things never change.”
Despite himself, Raghav felt the tightness in his shoulders ease slightly.
Abhinav Kumar Anand had been his friend since boarding school, one of the few people who saw beyond the calculated exterior Raghav presented to the world.
Now settled in Dubai, Abhinav maintained the same irreverent attitude toward Raghav’s intensity that he’d always had.
“Some of us run global companies,” Raghav replied, the dry humor reserved for only his closest circle. “We can’t all spend our days by infinity pools drinking overpriced cocktails.”
“You wound me,” Abhinav laughed. “I’ll have you know I’ve been in back-to-back meetings about the new development. Which reminds me, have you reviewed those investment projections I sent last week?”
“They’re on my desk.”
“Which means you’ve read them three times and are planning to call me with seventeen specific questions at some ungodly hour.”
“Fourteen questions,” Raghav corrected, turning from the window to his desk. “The return timeline seems aggressive.”
Abhinav chuckled, then paused. “What’s wrong with you?”
The question caught Raghav off-guard. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Bullshit. I’ve known you twenty-five years. You sound distracted, and Raghav Khanna doesn’t do distracted. So I’ll ask again, what’s going on?”
Raghav pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. The image of Ishani returned immediately—hair down, eyes bright with unguarded joy, laughing at a puppy on a screen. The words slipped out before he could catch them.
“I love her.”
Silence fell across the line, stretching for one heartbeat, two, three.
Then Abhinav’s cackling laughter erupted. “Holy shit! Did the great Raghav Khanna just admit to having human feelings? Who is she? And how did she crack that fortress you call a heart?”
“Shut up,” Raghav snapped, heat crawling up his neck. “It’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly like that,” Abhinav countered, his voice still bright with amusement. “Come on, details. Name, occupation, and how badly you’ve scared her with your intensity.”
Raghav sank into his chair, control slipping away for the first time in months. “She works for me.”
The laughter stopped immediately. “Oh. That’s... complicated.”
“My assistant.”
“Your—wait, the one you mentioned last month? Ishani something?”
“Rao. Ishani Rao.” Even saying her name sent a current of awareness through him.
“The one you said was ‘competent’ and ‘efficient’?” Abhinav’s voice held a knowing smile. “Those were code words for ‘I’m obsessed with her,’ weren’t they?”
Raghav’s jaw tightened. “I’m not obsessed.”
“Says the man who just blurted out ‘I love her’ without prompting. When did this happen?”
“I don’t know,” Raghav admitted, the rare uncertainty foreign on his tongue. “It wasn’t planned.”
“Of course it wasn’t planned. That’s how feelings work for the rest of us mortals.” Abhinav paused. “Have you told her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Raghav stood, pacing the length of his office. “She’s my assistant. There are professional boundaries.”
“Which you’ve never once crossed? Not even a little?”
Raghav thought of the printer incident. The late nights. The lunches. The way he’d invented work to keep her from going out with colleagues. His silence was answer enough.
“I thought so,” Abhinav said. “So what’s the problem? You want her. Knowing you, you’ve already decided she’s yours. Why not just tell her?”
“It’s not that simple. She’s...” Raghav struggled to express it. “Different. Careful. Composed. I can’t read her the way I read others.”
“The great negotiator, stumped by one woman.” Abhinav’s voice softened slightly. “You need an opening. An opportunity that doesn’t feel like her boss summoning her.”
“I’ve considered that,” Raghav admitted.
What’s the date today?”
“February 6th. Why?”
“It’s Valentine’s week,” Abhinav said, amusement creeping into his tone. “Arrange something for the days coming up. And something that requires her presence outside the office on Valentine’s Day. Create an opportunity.”
Silence stretched on the other end.
Raghav leaned back in his chair slowly, expression tightening.
Valentine’s week.
Absurd calendar-driven theatrics designed for college boys and greeting card companies. The idea of him participating in something so… performative made his jaw harden.
He could close billion-dollar deals without blinking. And now he was being advised to send flowers. He almost dismissed it outright.
But then he paused.
Women noticed things. Details. Effort. Even symbolic gestures.
Ishani was composed, intelligent, controlled. But she was still a woman. And women liked to feel chosen.
His fingers tapped once against the desk. Fine. If sentiment was a language, he would learn it. Strategically.
February 14th would not be accidental.
“I’ll kill you if this doesn’t work,” Raghav said finally, though there was no real threat in it.
“It’ll work. Just try not to terrify her with your intensity. Women generally prefer not to feel like hostile takeover targets.”
He ended the call as he heard her footsteps approaching his office. The soft knock that followed was exactly as he expected. Three light taps, perfectly spaced.
“Come in,” he called, locking his phone.
Ishani entered, composed once more, hair restored to its neat arrangement, professional mask firmly in place. No trace remained of the laughing, unguarded woman from the break room.
“I’ve finished the revised slides,” she said, tablet in hand. “Is there anything else you need before I head home?”
Raghav watched her closely, noticing how she carried herself. Her chin was held high, and her posture was straight, giving away nothing about what she really felt. She had put up walls again, hiding the warmth he had seen just moments before.
It only made him more determined to break through them.
“Actually, Ishani,” he said, reaching out for his car keys. “There is one more thing we should discuss while we are on the way to your home.”
The simple statement hung between them, weighted with unspoken intention. His eyes held hers, no longer assessing an employee but measuring the woman he’d decided would be his.
Raghav Khanna never lost what he set his sights on—and he had very clearly set his sights on Ishani Rao.