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.”
“The watches, Ishani. The matching watches that probably cost more than my monthly rent.” Kavya pointed to Ishani’s wrist. “Plus the ‘urgent document’ deliveries. The closed blinds. The lipstick on his collar yesterday. The way he called you ‘dar’ in the staff meeting.”
“He stumbled over his words,” Ishani countered. “It was a mistake.”
“And the way you both disappeared for twenty minutes during lunch yesterday? Also a mistake?”
Heat crept up Ishani’s neck. That had been Raghav’s idea—a quick trip to his car for what he’d called a “meeting” but had actually been his hands in her hair and his mouth on her throat while she sat across his lap in the backseat.
“I’m dating someone,” Ishani admitted, deciding a partial truth might deflect suspicion. “But it’s not what you think.”
Kavya’s eyebrows shot up. “Not the boss?”
Ishani smiled, enjoying the private joke too much to resist. “I’m seeing the man my parents arranged for me to meet.”
It wasn’t a lie. Not technically. Raghav was indeed the man her parents had arranged for her to marry. The fact that no one knew that fact yet was just a minor detail.
“What?” Kavya’s face contorted with confusion. “But the watches—”
“A gift from him,” Ishani lied smoothly.
Kavya’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “So all those times you’ve been disappearing...”
“Phone calls to coordinate with my parents. Boss is very involved in the process, making sure the man I am marrying is good.” Another half-truth.
“And the way Boss watches you?”
Ishani shrugged, enjoying the confusion on her friend’s face. “He’s the boss. He watches everyone.”
Before Kavya could press further, Ansh appeared at the break room door, looking slightly harried.
“Ishani, I need you. Singapore is on the line for the boss and the translator hasn’t shown.”
She nodded gratefully at the rescue and slipped past a still-suspicious Kavya. Once in the hallway, Ansh spoke in a low voice.
“There’s no call. But the boss wants you in his office. Now.”
Ishani smiled. “Thank you, Ansh.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered. “This is getting ridiculous. I’ve invented three phantom phone calls, redirected six colleagues, and told Samrat that Raghav has a contagious eye infection to keep him from dropping by unannounced.”
“We appreciate it,” she said, trying to sound sincere despite the laugh threatening to bubble up.
Ansh rolled his eyes. “Just go. I’ll stand guard.”
In Raghav’s office, she found him pacing behind his desk, phone pressed to his ear. He waved her in, eyes lighting up at the sight of her. As soon as the door closed, he ended the call and tossed the phone aside.
“That was the longest meeting of my life,” he said, moving toward her with purposeful strides. “Three hours without seeing you.”
“People are noticing,” she warned, even as her body leaned toward his like a flower tracking the sun. “The watches were a mistake.”
His hands found her waist, pulling her close. “I don’t care.”
“You will when HR gets involved,” she murmured, though her hands were already sliding into his hair, messing the perfect style.
He lowered his head, lips brushing her ear. “I own the company, Ishani. HR works for me.”
She chuckled, head tilting, eyes closing on its own accord as his mouth traced the line of her throat.
“Five minutes,” she whispered. “Then I really need to finish the quarterly report.”
His answer was to press her against the edge of his desk, hands sliding beneath her blouse to touch bare skin.
Neither of them heard the approaching footsteps until it was almost too late. A sharp knock at the door made them freeze.
“Boss? I need to discuss the marketing budget,” Samrat’s voice called through the wood.
Raghav pulled back, eyes dark with frustration. Ishani quickly adjusted her blouse, smoothing her hair with trembling fingers.
“One second,” Raghav called, his voice remarkably steady for a man whose hands had just been mapping the curve of her spine.
The door handle turned—and then, like a miracle, the shriek of the fire alarm cut through the office. Ishani nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden noise.
Through the door, they heard Samrat curse. “Perfect timing. We’ll talk later, Boss!”
Footsteps retreated quickly. Seconds later, Ansh’s voice came through Raghav’s private line.
“You have approximately forty seconds to look presentable before people start speculating why you weren’t out,” he said, sounding utterly done with the situation. “And you owe me for this. I had to pull the actual fire alarm.”
Raghav sighed, pressing a quick kiss to Ishani’s forehead before stepping back to straighten his tie.
“We’ll continue this later,” he promised, eyes still burning with unfinished intent.
Ishani nodded, tucking her blouse back into her skirt and smoothing her hair. By the time they stepped out of his office, the floor was already emptying, employees filing toward the emergency stairs with the resigned expressions of people who suspected this wasn’t a real emergency.
Near the elevators, she caught sight of Ansh standing with his arms crossed, face perfectly blank as he watched them emerge. Only the slight raise of his eyebrow betrayed his thoughts.
Ishani mouthed “thank you” as she passed. Ansh just shook his head, expression suggesting this was far beyond what his job description—or salary—covered.
Outside in the assembly area, Kavya found her immediately.
“Funny how you and the boss both disappeared right before the alarm,” she said, not bothering to hide her suspicion. “Almost like you knew it was coming.”
Ishani adjusted her watch, the diamonds catching the sunlight. “Pure coincidence.”
“Sure,” Kavya drawled. “Just like those matching watches are a gift from the match your parents found.”
Across the crowd, Raghav stood with the board members, looking every inch the composed CEO despite the slight disarray of his usually perfect hair. When his eyes met hers over the heads of their colleagues, the heat in them could have triggered actual fire alarms.
“So about this arranged match of yours,” Kavya pressed. “When do we get to meet him?”
Ishani smiled, watching as Raghav excused himself from his group and began making his way toward Ansh. “Sooner than you think.”
◆◆◆
Friday evening, Ishani smoothed her black dress—conservative enough for a client dinner, fitted enough to make Raghav’s eyes darken when she’d changed into it.
The restaurant was only two blocks from the office, but her heart had been racing since they’d left the building, since Raghav’s hand had settled at the small of her back as they walked, his touch burning through the fabric like a brand.
Five days of stolen moments, heated kisses behind closed doors, and increasingly flimsy excuses had left her nerves raw, exposed. Tonight she had to be professional. Tonight the Singapore acquisition hung in the balance. Tonight she couldn’t afford to melt when he looked at her a certain way.
The restaurant glowed with understated luxury—soft lighting, crisp white tablecloths, servers moving like shadows between tables. The clients were already seated, two men and a woman from Singapore International, their conversation pausing as Raghav approached their table.
Introductions flowed easily. Handshakes. Polite smiles. Ishani slipped into her professional role with practiced ease, until Raghav moved behind her chair.
“Allow me,” he said, his voice carrying that slight rough edge only she could detect.
His fingers brushed her shoulders as he pulled out her chair, a touch so brief anyone else would miss it.
But the heat of it lingered as she sat, as his hand dropped to rest at her back for one second longer than necessary.
The woman from Singapore International—Sarah, VP of Operations—caught the gesture, her eyebrow lifting slightly.
“Shall we order?” Raghav suggested, taking the seat beside Ishani rather than across from her.