Chapter 20
The Khanna car slowed before the iron gates of Rao Niwas.
The bungalow stood a little away from the road, shaded by old banyan trees whose branches stretched wide over the driveway. It wasn’t flashy. No towering facade, no marble lions. Just a quiet kind of confidence.
Raghav sat in the backseat, expression neutral, already planning the conversation in his head. Brief. Respectful. Final. By afternoon, this would be done. His phone buzzed.
“Good morning, Boss.”
Ishani.
The corner of his mouth almost moved. Almost.
“Remember your manners,” Kavita said softly, adjusting the edge of her sari.
“I’ll be polite,” Raghav replied.
“That would be new,” Vikram muttered.
The car stopped. The driver stepped out to open the door. As they walked toward the entrance, Vikram fell into step beside Raghav.
“You look like you’re about to negotiate a hostile takeover,” he whispered. “Relax. It’s tea, not war.”
Raghav gave him a look that usually ended conversations. It didn’t.
“You could at least try smiling,” Vikram added. “Your face has been in boardroom mode since breakfast.”
At the entrance stood a tall man with silver at his temples, posture straight, presence steady.
“Welcome,” he said, shaking Harshit’s hand first, then Raghav’s. His grip was firm, measured. “I’m Pushkar Rao. Please come in.”
Raghav inclined his head politely. So far, nothing unexpected. As he stepped into Rao Niwas, something about the space, the fragrance felt… familiar. He couldn’t place it.
The house was spacious without being grand. Polished marble floors. High ceilings. Antique furniture. Nothing screamed for attention. Everything simply belonged.
Gayatri Rao rose to greet them, her smile warm. “Kavita, how wonderful to finally meet in person after all our calls.” She turned to Raghav, studying him with undisguised interest. “And you must be Raghav. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“All good things, I hope,” he replied automatically, folding his hands in a polite gesture.
“Mostly,” Gayatri replied with a smile that tugged at something in his memory. He almost caught it—the resemblance, the tone—and then it slipped away.
They were seated formally. Parents on opposite sofas, he and Vikram completing the circle. Tea arrived. Sweets followed. The ritual felt practiced.
Pushkar lifted his cup. “Your father tells me you’ve been expanding aggressively.”
“Yes, sir,” Raghav replied evenly. “We closed the Singapore acquisition this week.”
“Impressive,” Pushkar said.
The conversation moved through business with comfortable ease. Markets. Expansion. Strategy. Raghav answered automatically.
His mind was elsewhere. A message from Ishani still sat unread in his pocket. He resisted the urge to check it again. This meeting needed to end cleanly.
Harshit finally cleared his throat. “Perhaps,” he said gently, “we should speak about why we’re here.”
Raghav set his cup down, straightening in his chair. This was it.
“Before we go further,” he said, voice steady and clear, “I feel I must be honest with you both.” He met Pushkar’s eyes directly. “I’m sorry if this causes inconvenience, but I can’t go ahead with this arrangement.”
Silence.
Gayatri looked at her husband. Not shocked. Just… thoughtful.
“May I ask why?” Pushkar said calmly.
Raghav didn’t hesitate.
“I’m in love with someone else.” The words felt unfamiliar in his mouth. He had never said them out loud before. Not to his parents. Not even to her. But they were true.
“It happened recently,” he continued, more quietly now, “but it isn’t a passing thing. I’m certain about her. And I respect your daughter too much to sit here and pretend I’m undecided.”
He met Pushkar’s gaze again.
“I don’t want to waste her time. Or yours.”
The room remained still. Pushkar studied him carefully. Not offended. Not angry.
“You speak with conviction,” he said.
Raghav gave a short nod. “I don’t say things like this lightly.”
Gayatri’s expression softened. “She must be very special.”
“She is,” he replied without hesitation.
There was no bravado in it. Just fact.
From beside him came a strangled sound. Vikram had turned his face away, shoulders shaking suspiciously. Raghav ignored him.
“If your heart is elsewhere,” Pushkar said evenly, “then honesty is better than courtesy.”
Raghav hadn’t expected that. He had prepared for resistance. Negotiation. Perhaps even insult. Instead, there was… calm.
“However,” Gayatri added gently, “our daughter deserves to hear this directly.”
Raghav stiffened slightly.
Pushkar nodded. “She should know you refused because you are committed elsewhere. Not because of some imagined flaw.”
Raghav paused. That was fair.
“I agree,” he said finally. “I’ll tell her myself.”
He straightened in his chair. This would be quick. Respectful. Clear.
Gayatri rose gracefully. “I’ll call her down. She’s been getting ready all morning.”
She stepped toward the hallway and called up the staircase. “Beta? They’re here. Come down.”
Raghav stared at his hands, already framing the conversation in his head. Afterwards, he would leave here and go straight to Ishani. Tell her everything. Maybe even take her out tonight. Somewhere public. Somewhere they didn’t have to pretend.
Footsteps echoed against the marble floor.
Light. Measured. Unhurried.
He kept his gaze lowered, rehearsing the apology. He would be respectful. Clear. There would be no space for doubt.
“I’m sorry to have kept everyone waiting.” The voice came from the doorway.
Warm. Familiar. Steady.
It hit him before his mind caught up. His head lifted. And the world tilted. Time suspended between one heartbeat and the next.
Ishani stood in the doorway, but not his Ishani from the office with her crisp suits and perfect posture. This Ishani wore a pale pink silk saree that draped her curves like water. His diamond necklace glinted at her throat. Her hair fell loose past her shoulders, adorned with tiny jasmine flowers.
Jasmine.
The faint fragrance he had noticed the moment he walked into the house. The one that had felt oddly familiar. The one that lingered near her every day at work.
Her eyes met his across the room, calm and knowing, while his entire body turned to stone.
He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t process what his eyes were telling him.
Ishani. Here. In the Rao house. Dressed like… that.
His mind raced, pieces clicking into place. The Rao girl. Ishani Rao. His secretary. The woman he’d been kissing behind closed office blinds for days. The woman he’d just declared himself in love with. They were the same person.
She smiled—a small, private curve of her lips that held secrets and satisfaction in equal measure.
Understanding slammed into Raghav with physical force. She had known. All this time, she had known.
“Well!” Vikram announced brightly, pushing himself to his feet. “If my brother is refusing, I would like to formally volunteer.”
He took two confident steps toward Ishani, hand extended. “Vikram Khanna. The fun Khanna twin.”
Something inside Raghav tightened past reason. He moved before he consciously decided to.
He closed the distance in three long strides. His hand came around Ishani’s waist, firm and unyielding, drawing her against his side. The silk of her saree shifted beneath his grip, warm and real.
Possession, instinctive and absolute.
Vikram halted inches away, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. “Possessive much?” he drawled.
Raghav didn’t even look at him. “Step back,” he said quietly.
The words were final.
The room went still.
His mother’s hand rose to her mouth. His father leaned forward, interested. Pushkar and Gayatri exchanged knowing looks.
Vikram grinned. He raised both palms in surrender and retreated a step. “Relax, brother. I was appreciating, not proposing.”
Raghav’s jaw flexed.
Ishani remained perfectly composed in his hold. She didn’t lean in. Didn’t pull away. Just stood there, pulse beating steadily beneath his palm.
He became aware of how tightly he was holding her. He didn’t let go. Instead, he turned her slightly toward him, lowering his voice. “What are you doing here?”
It came out rough. Not angry. Disbelief mixed with relief mixed with accusation.
She met his gaze steadily. “Meeting my arranged match. The one my parents planned for months.”
“You knew.” Not a question. “All this time.”
“Yes.”
No apology. No evasion. Just that single word.
His eyes narrowed. “The job. That was planned too?”
A slight flush colored her cheeks. “I thought it wise to... evaluate you before agreeing.”
“Evaluate me.” The words tasted bitter.
All those months of working together. Of noticing her. Wanting her. Fighting his attraction. While she’d been what? Studying him? Like a specimen in a glass?
“I wanted to know the man behind the reputation,” she said simply.
“And?” His voice dropped lower. “Did I pass?”
For the first time, shyness flickered across her face. “I—”
Vikram snorted from the sofa. “And here I thought Raghav was rebelling. Turns out he’s still the perfect son, falling for exactly the girl they picked.”
“Vikram,” their mother hissed.
The tension broke.
Raghav became aware of their audience—both sets of parents watching with barely concealed smugness. His grip on Ishani loosened slightly. He didn’t release her.
“You could have told me,” he said, voice for her alone.
Ishani’s mouth curved into that knowing smile. “And miss seeing the great Raghav Khanna completely blindsided? Never.”
“I believe some explanation is in order,” Pushkar said, sitting straighter. “Raghav, we selected you for our daughter months ago. Your reputation, your values, your business sense, all made you an excellent candidate.”
Kavita smiled warmly. “We made the introduction. Everything else,” she gestured to his hand still on Ishani’s waist, “developed naturally.”
“Naturally,” Raghav scoffed. “There was nothing natural about her appearing as my secretary.”
“Executive assistant,” Ishani corrected.
“That was Ishani’s idea,” Gayatri said with pride. “She insisted on knowing the real man before agreeing to any arrangement.”
“She wanted to see if you were an asshole when no one was looking,” Vikram translated helpfully.
“I wanted to observe how you handled pressure,” Ishani clarified, turning to face Raghav fully. “How you treated people who couldn’t benefit you. How you wielded power when you thought no one was watching.”
Her directness made heat curl in his stomach.
“And did I pass?” he asked again, voice dangerous.
Her chin lifted. “Would I be standing here if you hadn’t?”
The simple question sent something spiralling through him. He didn’t dare name it, not in front of their parents watching so keenly.
Of course. Ishani would never have allowed herself to be matched with someone who didn’t meet her standards. The past week—heated kisses behind closed blinds, her body against his desk, her fingers in his hair—none of it had been impulsive on her part.
“Ishani has always been thorough,” Pushkar commented. “When she was seven, she interviewed all her dance teachers before selecting one.”
Kavita nodded approvingly. “You researched every business school. Three spreadsheets of comparative data.”
“This isn’t about spreadsheets,” Raghav said, eyes on Ishani. “This is about deception.”
“Strategy,” she countered. “I needed information you wouldn’t provide in traditional courtship.”
“Information,” he repeated, incredulous.
“How you handle stress. Whether your public persona matches private behavior. If you respect boundaries.” Her voice softened. “What I didn’t account for was actually falling for you.”
The admission hung in the air.
Behind them, both mothers exchanged delighted glances. Vikram made a gagging sound.
“For my wealth?” Raghav challenged.
“I have wealth,” she reminded him. “No. I fell for your discipline. Your loyalty. The way you protect what’s yours.
” Her eyes held his. “The man who stayed all night on the Jakarta proposal because jobs were at stake. The CEO who memorized every manufacturing employee’s name.
The boss who quietly paid for Ansh’s mother’s surgery. ”
Raghav stared at her, stunned.
She’d seen everything. Not just his flaws, but moments he thought private. Choices made when no power or profit was at stake.
She’d chosen him not despite knowing the real him, but because of it. Something shifted in his chest.
“I’d like a moment alone with Ishani,” he said, voice controlled but tight. He didn’t look away from her face as he addressed the room. “With your permission.”
Both sets of parents exchanged knowing glances. Gayatri’s smile widened as she rose to her feet. “Of course. The study is just through that door.” She gestured to a heavy wooden door off the main drawing room. “We’ll continue our tea. Take all the time you need.”
Pushkar cleared his throat. “Within reason,” he amended, though his eyes crinkled with amusement.
Raghav didn’t wait for further permission. His hand shifted to the small of Ishani’s back as he guided her toward the study. He felt the eyes of both families on them as they crossed the room. He didn’t care.
He needed to be alone with her. Needed to understand exactly what game they’d been playing and which rules still applied now that all masks had fallen away.
As the heavy door closed behind them, the last thing he heard was Vikram’s gleeful voice, “Ten bucks says he comes out with lipstick on his collar.”