Page 86 of Yes Boss
Ishani felt heat climb her cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from the raw honesty in his declaration. His arm tightened around her waist, anchoring her against his side.
“Now,” Raghav said, finally turning to address the stunned employees, “since you’ve all been so invested in our relationship, I have an announcement.”
The silence was absolute.
“Everyone receives a ten percent bonus in their next paycheck.”
For three heartbeats, no one moved.
Then the office erupted. People jumped from their seats. Someone whooped. Kavya clutched Samrat’s arm, both grinning. A junior analyst pumped his fist in the air.
Raghav raised his hand. The celebration paused.
“With one condition.”
The room held its breath.
“No more betting pools on my wife.” His voice carried possessive satisfaction. “I am the only one she belongs to.”
More cheering followed, this time with scattered applause.
Raghav didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he guided Ishani toward his office with firm pressure at her lower back, his focus entirely on her despite the commotion behind them.
He closed the door but didn’t lock it.
He walked Ishani to his chair. Then, he moved to the windows overlooking the executive floor—the glass walls that had separated them for months, the blinds that had concealed their stolen moments over the past week.
He grasped the cord and pulled.
The blinds snapped open.
Every employee could see them clearly now. No more secrets. No more hiding. No more pretending they were just boss and assistant.
“No more hiding,” Raghav said, his hand finding hers, fingers intertwining. “Let them see exactly who we are to each other.”
The symbolism wasn’t lost on their audience. Through the newly exposed glass, Kavya elbowed Samrat, both watching with undisguised interest. Ansh gave them a discreet thumbs-up. The rest alternated between staring openly and pretending not to look.
Raghav moved to the small kitchenette in the corner. He prepared coffee—no sugar, extra shot, exactly how she liked it. When he returned, he placed the cup on his desk in front of her.
The simple act of service carried weight beyond the gesture itself. He was the most powerful man in the city, arguably one of the most influential in the country. Yet he’d just served her coffee in full view of his employees.
The power dynamics shifted. Recalibrated. Found a new equilibrium.
“So, Boss,” he asked, voice low and rough as he leaned against the desk beside her. “What’s your first order?”
Ishani took a sip of the coffee and set it down. “Actually, I think you forgot something.”
His eyebrow rose. “Did I?”
“The wedding planning.” She pulled out her phone, showing him a lengthy list. “Venue selection, guest list, menu tasting, photographer interviews—”
Raghav took the phone from her hands and set it aside. Then he pulled her to her feet, hands settling at her waist.
“I have people for that,” he murmured.
“Your mother has opinions about everything,” Ishani countered. “My mother wants input on the decorations. Your father keeps suggesting business associates for the guest list—”
“Let them handle it.” His thumb traced circles on her hip. “I only care about one thing.”
