Page 32 of Yes Boss
At least she knew one thing for sure. She wouldn’t turn into Natasha. She had too much self-respect for that. Too much pride. If Raghav Khanna didn’t choose her, she would walk away with her dignity intact.
Still… the truth lingered, uncomfortable and undeniable.
Raghav Khanna had a way of making women fall for him without even trying. And the terrifying part? He didn’t even have to return the feeling for it to happen.
Anyway, she went inside.
Her boss had summoned her. As he often did. And God, how she wished the tables could turn someday. How satisfying it would be to keepRaghav Khannaon his toes for once.
The thought almost made her smile.
She bit the inside of her cheek instead, schooling her face into neutrality as she approached his desk.
“The dinner’s been cancelled,” he said, looking up from his screen. “One of the investors had an emergency.”
“Oh.” Her concern was genuine. “Then we can wrap up for today, Boss.”
He closed his laptop and stood. “It’s late. I’ll drive you home.”
“That’s not necessary,” she said at once. “The company car service—”
“Isn’t needed tonight.” He was already reaching for his jacket. “I’m heading in your direction anyway.”
It was a lie. They both knew it.
Raghav Khanna lived nowhere near Bandra, and her apartment was noton the wayto anything he’d be doing at seven on a Tuesday evening.
She hesitated, something unreadable flickering across her face. “Really, it’s fine. I take the service almost every night.”
“Tonight you don’t.” His tone was calm, final, leaving no room for argument. “My car’s in the basement.”
She could have pushed back. Could have insisted. Instead, she nodded.
“Alright.”
The elevator ride was silent. The kind of silence that made you hyperaware of everything else.
Raghav stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the changing numbers above the doors. Ishani held her bag closer than necessary, the small space amplifying the heat of his presence, the awareness of how close he was without touching her.
The elevator doors opened to the parking level.
It was nearly empty at this hour, the space hollow and quiet, their footsteps echoing softly against the concrete as they walked toward his car. Raghav moved a step ahead of her, reached the passenger side first, and opened the door before she could.
He stood close enough that she had to brush past him to get in.
“Thank you,” she murmured, sliding into the leather seat.
The car smelled unmistakably like him—sandalwood layered with something deeper, warmer. The scent settled around her, intimate in a way the office never was.
She told herself not to look.
She failed.
Raghav slipped out of his jacket and draped it over the back of his seat, the movement unhurried, controlled. Then he sat, loosened his tie with practiced ease, the slow pull at his collar making her throat go dry for reasons she refused to examine. When he rolled up his sleeves, the simple motion drew her eye again. The watch at his wrist caught the light as he moved.
She turned toward the window at once, irritated with herself for noticing any of it.
This space felt different. Smaller. Quieter. Almost… private.
