Epilogue
She set her purse on her desk and logged into her computer. Soon after, the elevator doors opened again.
Raghav stepped onto the floor.
His eyes found hers the moment he stepped onto the floor—dark, direct, carrying that particular heat he no longer bothered to conceal. He crossed toward her without breaking stride, said nothing, simply held out his hand.
She took it.
He pulled her to her feet and guided her into his office, one hand at her back, warm and certain. The door clicked shut behind them.
Raghav looked like a man consumed by a single purpose.
“I’ve been thinking about this since I woke up,” he murmured, backing her against his desk with deliberate steps.
Before she could respond, his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that held nothing back.
His hands framed her face, fingers sliding into her hair, angling her head exactly how he wanted it.
The kiss wasn’t gentle or exploratory. It was possession, pure and raw.
Her phone fell to the floor as her hands found his shoulders, gripping his suit jacket, steadying herself against the assault on her senses.
Raghav pressed closer, eliminating the space between them until her back hit the edge of his desk. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, demanding entry she immediately granted. His hands left her face to slide down her sides, mapping the curves hidden beneath her dress.
“Raghav,” she gasped when he finally released her mouth to trail kisses along her jaw. “We’re at the office—”
“Do you think I care?” His voice came out rough, edged with something dangerous. “You’re mine, and I’m done pretending otherwise.”
His mouth found the sensitive spot beneath her ear, teeth grazing. “Let them see. Let every person who walks onto this floor know exactly who you belong to.”
The possessiveness in his voice, the raw claim in his words, sent liquid heat pooling between her thighs. She tugged at his perfectly styled hair, pulling his mouth back to hers, no longer caring about professionalism or boundaries.
His hands gripped her waist, lifting her onto his desk in one smooth motion. Papers scattered. Something—a pen holder, maybe—clattered to the floor. Neither of them noticed or cared.
Her legs parted instinctively as he stepped between them, bringing their bodies flush against each other. The position allowed him to press against her core, the evidence of his desire obvious even through layers of clothing. She arched into him, chasing the friction his body offered.
“I promised to be at your service for the rest of our lives,” he murmured against her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Starting now.”
His hands found the buttons of her dress, deftly unfastening the top three to reveal the black lace beneath. The sight made his eyes darken further, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he fought for control.
“You wore this for me,” he said, not a question but a statement of fact. His fingers traced the edge of the lace, reverent and possessive at once.
“I wear everything for you,” she admitted breathlessly.
A sound—half groan, half growl—escaped him.
His mouth descended to the tops of her breasts, tracing the edge of her bra with his tongue.
When his teeth grazed the sensitive skin, her back arched off the desk.
His arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her, keeping her exactly where he wanted her as his other hand pushed her dress higher on her thighs.
“Every part of you,” he murmured against her skin, his hand sliding up the smooth expanse of her leg. “Every breath. Every thought. Mine.”
His fingers traced patterns on her inner thigh, moving higher with agonizing slowness. Heat pulsed between them, building with each touch, each shared breath.
“Say it,” he commanded, lifting his head to capture her gaze. His eyes burned with intensity that made her breath catch.
“Yours,” she whispered. “All yours.”
“Damn right.”
His mouth claimed hers again, kissing her with renewed ferocity. His hand continued its path upward, fingertips brushing against lace, making her gasp into his mouth.
A sharp knock at the door interrupted them.
“Boss?” Ansh’s voice carried through the wood. “The Singapore team is on the line. They said it’s urgent—contract issue that needs immediate resolution.”
Raghav pulled back slightly, jaw clenched in frustration. “Tell them five minutes.”
“They said the window closes in three,” Ansh replied apologetically.
Ishani bit her lip, fighting between laughter and frustration as Raghav dropped his forehead against hers, breathing heavily.
“This conversation isn’t over,” he said, voice still rough with desire.
“Not even close,” she agreed.
He helped her slide off the desk, hands lingering at her waist as she rebuttoned her dress. She straightened his tie while he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, attempting to restore some semblance of professional appearance.
“You look like you’ve been thoroughly kissed,” she observed, smoothing down his collar.
“Good,” he said simply, stealing one more quick, hard kiss before releasing her. “Let them wonder.”
When they emerged from the office, Ansh stood by Ishani’s desk, phone in hand, professional as always.
“Singapore line two,” he said, handing the phone to Raghav. “Contract clause dispute on the shipping terms.”
Raghav took the phone, but before putting it to his ear, he turned to Ansh. “Congratulations are in order for you, Ansh.”
Ansh blinked. “Sir?”
“You’re getting a raise. Twenty percent.”
“I—thank you, sir. That’s very generous.”
“Don’t thank me.” Raghav glanced at Ishani, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Thank your new boss.”
Ishani smiled sweetly. “He’s earned it. Expanded responsibilities require appropriate compensation.”
“Indeed,” Raghav said dryly, finally bringing the phone to his ear. “This is Raghav.”
As he walked back toward his office, voice already shifting into business mode, Ansh looked at Ishani with barely concealed amusement.
“New boss?” he asked quietly.
“You work for both of us now,” Ishani replied, settling back at her desk. “Might as well make it official.”
“Does that mean I can ask you to control him when he gets impossible?”
“I make no promises,” she said, but her smile suggested otherwise.
Ansh shook his head, grinning. “This is going to be interesting.”
Through the door she saw Raghav pace his office, phone pressed to his ear, gesturing as he spoke. But even from here, Ishani could see the slight dishevelment of his hair, the loosened tie, the lingering heat in his eyes when they found hers.
She touched the diamond bracelet at her wrist and smiled.
Not long after, the elevator doors opened in steady intervals, releasing employees onto the executive floor.
They stepped out more quietly than usual. Eyes drifted toward Ishani’s desk, then away just as quickly when they saw her seated there. Conversations stayed low. Laughter, if it happened, was restrained. People walked past her workstation with a careful politeness that hadn’t existed last week.
No one quite seemed to know how to behave. A week ago, she had been their colleague. Now, she was the CEO’s fiancée.
Ishani felt the glances without lifting her head. Her fingers moved across the keyboard at their usual pace. She didn’t rush. Didn’t slow down.
She understood the shift.
For months, she had shared coffee breaks and deadlines with them. Now headlines had turned her into something else entirely. The attention had been loud. The office, by contrast, had gone quiet.
She kept her expression neutral, though a small part of her found the transformation almost fascinating.
A junior analyst approached her desk, holding a report folder a little too tightly.
“Ms. Rao?” he said carefully. “I have the Singapore numbers you requested last week.”
“Thank you, Arjun.” She accepted the folder with a smile. “And it’s still just Ishani.”
He nodded, relief flickering across his face, but retreated quickly before having to make actual conversation.
The pattern repeated with two more colleagues, brief, awkward interactions followed by hasty retreats.
The invisible barrier around her desk remained intact until a familiar voice shattered it completely.
“Oh, come ON!” Kavya marched across the floor, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “She’s still the same person, people! She just happens to be sleeping with the boss now.”
The office went completely silent. Someone gasped. A coffee mug froze halfway to lips.
Kavya reached Ishani’s desk, planted both palms on its surface, and leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “I knew it,” she said, poking Ishani’s shoulder with one finger. “I KNEW it was him.”
“Kavya,” Ishani began, fighting a smile.
“Don’t ‘Kavya’ me.” She crossed her arms. “I had fifty thousand rupees on Boss being your secret admirer, and everyone told me I was crazy. ‘The boss doesn’t send roses,’ they said. ‘The boss doesn’t do romantic gestures.’ HAH! I want my winnings.”
Ishani glanced around, aware they now had the entire floor’s attention. “It wasn’t exactly how—”
“It was the puppy,” Kavya pressed, eyes gleaming with triumph. “That’s when I knew for sure. No man looks at a dog like that unless he’s already completely gone for its owner.”
A chuckle rippled through the watching employees, the tension breaking. Encouraged by Kavya’s approach, others began drifting closer to Ishani’s desk.
“So the whole Valentine’s week, all those gifts, that was really the boss?” asked a woman from marketing, eyes wide with renewed interest.
Before Ishani could answer, Kavya whistled low and appreciative. “Who would have thought Boss Man had that kind of romance in him? I mean, the roses were classic, but the chocolates? The teddy bear? The man has hidden depths.”
The crowd murmured in agreement, the previous awkwardness giving way to collective fascination. Someone in the back started slow-clapping.
“Always knew he had a thing for you,” said Samrat, leaning against a nearby desk. “The way he watched you through those glass walls? Not subtle, Boss Man. Not subtle at all.”