Chapter 15
Ishani turned slowly, her pulse stumbling in her chest.
Raghav stood just inside the doorway, framed by the warm amber light behind him. For a second, she forgot how to breathe.
He didn’t look like the man who ruled a boardroom with a glance.
The suit was gone. In its place, a dark silk shirt clung to his frame, the top buttons undone, exposing the strong line of his throat.
The sleeves were rolled to his forearms, revealing lean muscle and the gleam of his watch against his skin.
Black trousers sat low on his hips, effortless, dangerous.
His hair was slightly disordered, as if he had dragged his hands through it one too many times while waiting.
But it was the way he looked at her that unraveled her.
His gaze moved slowly. From the diamonds resting against her collarbone… to the curve of silk at her waist… to the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.
He didn’t rush. He absorbed.
And Ishani felt it. Every inch of that attention. It slid over her skin like a touch without contact. Her spine straightened instinctively, but her fingers tightened around her clutch. Heat crept up her neck under the weight of his scrutiny.
His jaw flexed once. Then he stepped fully into the suite.
He slid his hands into his pockets, burying them there as if restraining himself. The movement tightened the fabric of his shirt across his chest. He stopped several feet away. The distance felt deliberate. Claimed, but contained.
Her lips parted before sound came. “It was you.” Her gaze swept the room, the roses, the photographs. “All of it. The roses. The bracelet. The chocolates.” Her breath faltered. “This.”
“Yes.” He said quietly, voice lower than she had ever heard it.
He took another step closer. Not enough to touch. Enough to change the air between them. His scent wrapped around her, richer now, less restrained than the controlled version he wore to the office.
“Why?” The word left her unsteady. “Why this? Why not just tell me?”
“Because you wouldn’t have believed me.” A faint, honest curve touched his mouth. “Would you have accepted a confession between quarterly projections and budget reviews?” His gaze held hers. “I needed you to feel it before you heard it. I needed you to understand this isn’t impulse.”
He gestured toward the photograph of her at her desk—chin lifted, eyes sharp, spine unyielding.
“I noticed you the day you corrected me in your interview. Most people fear contradicting me. You didn’t. You didn’t soften it. You didn’t apologize. You just stated the truth.”
His gaze returned to her, slower this time. More personal.
“And after that, I started noticing everything.”
The air tightened.
“The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re thinking. The way your fingers curl into your palm when you disagree but choose not to defy.” His eyes dropped briefly to her hand, where her nails pressed into the leather of her clutch. “Like you’re doing now.”
Heat rushed through her. She felt stripped bare beneath that observation.
“The night you spoke to your mother about that puppy,” he continued, his voice lowering, deepening. “You laughed.” His jaw tightened slightly. “That was the moment I understood I didn’t just want your efficiency.”
He stepped closer.
“I wanted that laugh. For myself.”
The space between them thinned.
“This crosses every professional boundary we have,” she whispered, even as her body leaned subtly toward his warmth.
“I know.” His tone did not waver. “I fought it. Every day.” His hands remained in his pockets, but tension rippled through his forearms, restraint visible. “I told myself it was inappropriate. Reckless.”
He took the final step. Now there were only inches.
“This week wasn’t a game.” His gaze burned into hers. “It was a claim.”
Her pulse pounded against the diamond at her throat.
“What if I don’t want to be claimed?” she challenged, though the question trembled.
His breath brushed her lips.
“Then say no.” The words were quiet. Absolute. “Say it, and I walk away. Monday, we return to the office. I become your Boss again. You become my assistant.”
His jaw flexed once, control straining but intact.
“But if you stay…” His eyes dipped to her mouth, then rose slowly back to her eyes. “It’s not for a night. It’s not for secrecy. It’s for everything.”
His voice dropped to something darker.
“You don’t get half of me, Ishani.”
The air felt electric, stretched tight.
“You get all of it.”
Silence pressed in around them, heavy and charged.
Ishani’s breaths deepened. She looked at him.
Raghav Khanna
The man who had watched quietly. Who had remembered things she’d said in passing. Who had stepped out of his perfectly structured world and built something reckless and beautiful just for her.
Something inside her finally surrendered.
She reached for him before her mind could catch up to her body, her fingers fisting into the silk at the front of his shirt, feeling the warmth of him beneath it.
Raghav moved instantly.
His hand closed around her wrist with a gentle pressure that still managed to feel like a claim.
“Yes?” he asked, voice roughened at the edges, dark and low. He needed to hear it. Needed her choice.
Ishani’s answer wasn’t words.
She raised her other hand sliding up to his shoulder, fingers curling into muscle and fabric. The movement brought her flush against him, her body aligning with his in a way that stole the last inch of space between them.
She exhaled—slow, unsteady—and settled against him.
For a second, Raghav didn’t move.
Control held him rigid.
Then his hand shifted from her wrist to her waist, spreading wide against her back. His other hand followed, sliding from his pocket to her hip, pulling her the final fraction closer.
His head dipped. Not yet a kiss.
Just his forehead brushing hers. His breath mingling with hers. The diamond at her throat pressed lightly against his chest.
“You’re sure?” he murmured, voice barely steady, though his grip tightened at her waist.
Her fingers tightened in response.
“Yes.”
That was all he needed.
His mouth found hers, and thought became impossible.
The kiss burned through her like wildfire. His mouth claimed hers with a certainty that left no room for doubt—firm, decisive, unmistakably him. Months of restraint collapsed into that single moment, all of it pouring through the way he held her there, close and unyielding.
Ishani’s fingers dug into his shoulder, feeling muscle flex beneath her touch.
When his tongue traced her lips, she made a sound—raw, needy, unfamiliar even to herself.
Raghav growled in response, like a predator sensing surrender.
His hand slid higher along her back, fingers weaving through her hair.
He tilted her head back, angling her mouth perfectly against his.
Her body melted against him, responding to his unspoken command like she’d been waiting all her life to be directed exactly this way.
Her lips parted, and he groaned softly, the vibration traveling from his chest to hers.
The kiss transformed from claiming to consuming.
Her hands slid into his hair, fingers gripping the thick strands, messing the careful style he always maintained.
For months she’d wondered how it would feel to touch him without restraint, and now she knew.
God! She loved it. His hair was soft, the slight curls brushing against her skin like silk.
His arm tightened around her waist and, in one seamless movement, he lifted her. The sudden loss of ground stole her breath. She clutched his shoulders as he drew her flush against him, her body aligning with his in a way that felt inevitable.
Her legs wrapped instinctively around his hips.
The contact sent a sharp current through both of them.
He tasted of mint and heat. Of control stretched thin. His mouth slowed, exploring. His lower lip dragged gently across hers before he claimed her again, deeper, hungrier.
His hands shifted to her hips, fingers pressing into silk and skin beneath, pulling her tighter. There was no air between them. No hesitation left.
The world narrowed. To his breath. To the slow drag of his mouth. To the steady strength of his hands anchoring her in place.
Her pulse thundered. Her thoughts dissolved.
Then, like surfacing after being pulled under, clarity rushed back in all at once.
She stilled in his arms.
She pressed her palms flat against his chest and pushed, breaking the kiss with a force that surprised them both. She stepped back on the ground, ready to keep her distance, until Raghav swept forward and drew her right back into his arms. His grip was firm, his body pressed against hers.
“You already said yes,” he murmured against her lips. “You can’t push me away now. Ever.”
She let out a surprised breath and tried to wriggle free, but he only tightened his hold. His lips trailed down to her neck, soft and warm, and her anger flickered with something else—something breathless and urgent.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered, one hand resting against the small of her back, the other cradling her head. His eyes locked on hers, a mixture of desire and concern.
She swallowed, chest heaving. “What’s wrong?
” she shot back, voice shaking with anger or something else, she didn’t know.
“You’ve made me the center of office gossip for a week.
You’ve been—what? Photographing me without my knowledge?
Setting up this whole guessing game?” Her free hand jabbed toward the gallery of images on the walls. “And you ask what’s wrong?”
Raghav held her tighter, as if challenging her anger. He brushed another kiss along her collarbone, and she gasped, breath catching. “I won’t apologize for wanting you,” he said softly. “For finding the one person who could make me do this.”
Her arms crossed, shoulders rising. She tried to push a strand of hair from her face, but his fingers brushed it away, sending a shiver through her.
“Everyone’s been betting on who my secret admirer is,” she said, voice trembling. “People have dissected my personal life over lunch. Kavya even set up a gambling pool on how far you’d go.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, lips hovering at hers. “I’ll fix it,” he promised, voice low.
“How?” she asked, trying to look fierce even as she leaned back against his chest. “By announcing you’ve been secretly wooing your assistant? That’ll really help my reputation.”
He rested his chin on her head. “I’ll tell them you’re my choice. Not a fling, not a game. And anyone who doesn’t respect what we have can find another job.”
The words were delivered with the same quiet authority he used to make million-dollar decisions. Absolute. Unapologetic.
She looked up trying to step back, but he tightened his hold on her again.
“You can’t threaten people’s jobs over gossip,” she said, though her voice came out as a squeak when he brushed his lips over hers.
“I’m not threatening. I’m stating facts,” he said, pressing his lips at the corner of her mouth. Meeting her gaze, he continued, “Your reputation will be protected. Mine, on the other hand, might suffer when people realize I’ve been reduced to sending stuffed animals and giant teddy bears.”
The corner of her mouth twitched despite herself. “I never knew you had a romantic bone in your body,” she said, the breathlessness in her voice giving way to something warmer, more teasing. “The great Raghav Khanna, secretly arranging chocolate deliveries and stealing photographs.”
To her surprise, he looked almost offended, his brow furrowing slightly.
“First, I didn’t click these pictures. But I must admit I took these from security cameras.
And, I researched what girls like,” he said with the same serious tone he used when explaining quarterly projections.
“Secret admirer topped the list. The entire week was carefully planned, with metrics for each response.”
Ishani stared at him for a heartbeat, processing his words. Then, without warning, laughter bubbled up from her chest—uninhibited laughter that lit her entire face.
“You researched romance?” she managed between breaths, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Of course I did,” Raghav replied, completely serious. “I approach all objectives with thorough preparation.”
This only made her laugh harder, her shoulders shaking with it. Raghav watched her, his expression softening with something like wonder as he witnessed the sound he’d been trying to earn for weeks.
“That laugh,” he said quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “That’s what I wanted. For me.”
And it was—her laughter, unfiltered and genuine, directed at him and because of him. The final gift he’d been working toward all along.