Page 16 of Yes Boss
The following Wednesday, as the afternoon meeting concluded and the executive team left, Raghav found himself watching Ishani gather her notes. The afternoon sun caught in her hair, highlighting subtle auburn undertones he hadn’t noticed before.
“Ishani,” he said, before he could stop himself. “I’ll need you to stay late again tonight.”
She looked up, and for the briefest moment, something flickered across her face—awareness, perhaps. It made his pulse quicken.
“What project needs attention tonight?” she asked, her tone giving nothing away.
He hesitated.
That never happened.
“General preparation for tomorrow,” he said finally. “We can go over it over dinner.”
She held his gaze a moment longer than usual. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll rearrange my evening plans.”
As she walked back to her desk, Raghav stayed where he was, hands resting on the edge of the conference table.
The thought settled slowly, unwelcome and undeniable. These weren’t professional requests anymore. Somewhere along theway, he had started inventing reasons to keep her close. To stretch the hours. To delay the end of the day.
Later that afternoon, he found himself standing by the glass wall of his office, watching her without quite realising when he’d stopped working.
Ishani sat at her desk, phone balanced between ear and shoulder as she typed, switching seamlessly between tasks. Sunlight spilled across her face, catching the line of her cheek, the focus in her eyes. She was entirely absorbed, unaware of being watched.
The moment stretched too long. She must have felt his gaze, because she looked up suddenly, catching him staring. Their eyes met through the glass, and for one unguarded moment, something raw and honest passed between them—an acknowledgment of this unnamed tension that had been building for weeks.
Her fingers stilled on the keyboard. For a breath, she held his gaze. Then she looked away.
The tension didn’t disappear.
It stayed—stretched thin, humming in the space between glass and distance and restraint.
Raghav remained still long after she’d resumed her call, the warmth along his spine slow and persistent. When he finally turned back to his desk, the numbers on the screen blurred for a moment before coming back into focus.
This was dangerous ground.
And worse—it was no longer one-sided.
Chapter 5
Monday afternoon seemed like more challenging than it had ever been. Assistants rushed between desks with urgent files for the contract signing due next week.
Ishani, meanwhile, was absorbed in her work, fingers flying across her keyboard as she managed Raghav’s overflowing calendar. Her rhythm broke when her phone rang. The caller id showed it was Westbrook Industries, one of their largest international clients.
She lifted the receiver, pressed it against her ear, her voice measured and professional. “Mr. Khanna’s office, Ishani Rao speaking.”
The shouting started immediately. Mr. Westbrook’s voice blasted through the receiver, so loud that Ishani had to pull it away from her ear.
“I understand your concerns, Mr. Westbrook,” Ishani said, her voice deliberately calm as she brought the phone back to her ear. “However, the terms were clearly outlined in section—”
The client cut her off with another blast of accusations. Something about breach of contract. Something about incompetence. His voice grew louder with each sentence.
Ishani’s shoulders tensed. Her grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles turning white. It was the only sign of the pressure she felt beneath her calm exterior. With her other hand, she straightened the papers on her desk, stacking them neatly. If shecould bring order to that small space, maybe it would help her handle the chaos coming through the phone.
“If you’ll allow me to explain,” she tried again. “The clause in question was actually requested by your legal team during the third round of—”
More shouting. Crude words now. Personal insults.
From the corner of her eye, Ishani caught movement.
