Page 40 of Yes Boss
Ishani arrived at the office at her usual time, still occupied with thoughts of yesterday’s events—Raghav driving her home, standing too close in the elevator, watching her with those dark, unreadable eyes. She needed time to reset, to find her center before facing him again. The empty floor welcomed her with familiar silence as she walked to her desk.
She stopped short.
A single red rose lay across her keyboard, its stem crossing her carefully arranged pens.
She frowned and glanced around the empty office. Who had access to the executive floor this early? Apart from security and cleaning staff. She picked up the rose carefully, as if it might somehow explain itself under closer inspection. A small cream-colored card was attached to the stem with fine silver thread.
“The beginning of something inevitable.”
Printed. No signature. No clue.
She held the rose at eye level, turning it slowly between her fingers. The elevator doors opened behind her. Raghav stood there, hands in pocket, watching her examine the flower with the same intensity one might study an artifact from another planet. His lips twitched, almost forming a smile before he cleared his throat.
Ishani startled, turned around and hastily slid the rose into her desk drawer. “Good morning, Boss.”
He moved past her workstation without acknowledgment, his cologne lingering in his wake.
By nine o’clock, the floor had filled with the usual morning bustle. Ishani had almost managed to push the first rose from her mind when the receptionist approached her desk carrying another flower—yellow this time, wrapped in an elegant paper.
“Delivery for Ishani Rao,” she said, placing it carefully beside the first rose.
“Who sent this?” Ishani asked.
“Must be a secret admirer,” the receptionist replied with a knowing smile that practically screamed office gossip. “Enjoy your day.”
The note read: “Your laughter is a privilege few receive.”
Ishani’s hand stilled above the yellow petals.
That sounded almost like… Her thoughts flashed back to the break room. Her call with her mother. The puppy that had made her laugh. Had someone overheard? Been watching?
No. Impossible.
What if the person wasn’t even from the office? But she’d never told anyone where she worked.
She slipped the note into her drawer and tried to return to work, but couldn’t focus. Her gaze kept drifting to the clock, to her colleagues, searching their expressions for something—knowledge, amusement, guilt.
At ten, a third rose arrived. White this time. “Your mind is as beautiful as your face.”
By eleven, a pink rose. “Some pursue power. I pursue you.”
With each delivery, the whispers grew. Conversations softened when she walked past. Heads bent together. Phones lifted a little too quickly.
Ishani felt the weight of it settle between her shoulder blades.
She had spent months building a reputation for composure. For distance. For being above office gossip.
Now she was at the center of it.
“So,” Kavya said, appearing at Ishani’s desk moments after the fourth rose arrived. “Secret admirer?” Her eyes gleamed with undisguised curiosity.
“Apparently.” Ishani straightened a stack of papers that did not need straightening.
“Any idea who?” Kavya perched on the edge of the desk and lifted the pink rose, inspecting it. “These aren’t cheap. Premium long stems. Someone’s making a statement.”
“I have no idea,” Ishani replied, gently reclaiming the rose from Kavya’s fingers.
“Hm.” Kavya studied her face. “Half the office is betting on Samrat. He’s been watching you for weeks.”
