“I deal with those bastards.”
The finality in his tone sent a shiver through her. This close, she noticed everything—the hard line of his mouth, the tension held in his shoulders, the pulse beating steadily at his temple like he was restraining far more than anger.
“Do you understand?”
It wasn’t a question.
Her throat worked once before she answered. “Yes.”
One word. Soft. Steady.
Something flickered in his eyes at that—approval, possession, restraint. His gaze dropped, briefly, unmistakably, to her lips.
The air tightened. Dangerous. Charged. A second too long for an office. Too long for witnesses pretending not to exist.
Then he straightened.
Just like that, distance returned. Abrupt. Cold. Controlled. His hands lifted from the chair as if they’d never been there. Heturned away without looking back, composure sliding back into place.
The door to his office closed behind him. A moment later, the blinds came down.
Ishani remained seated, breath unsteady, fingers curled lightly against the armrest—fully aware that nothing had happened.
And that everything had.
For a moment, the entire floor seemed to freeze.
Pens hovered mid-sentence. Keyboards went quiet. Someone cleared their throat. A phone rang, too loud in the sudden stillness. Slowly, the sound returned, cautiously, as if everyone were testing whether it was safe to breathe again.
Ishani didn’t move.
She sat exactly as she had before, hands folded neatly in her lap, posture flawless. Only she could feel it—the faint awareness where his presence had lingered, where his breath had brushed too close to be accidental. Her skin still hummed, as though something invisible had been pressed there and left behind.
Her expression never wavered.
Inside, nothing felt settled.
In all the months she’d worked for Raghav Khanna, she had never seen that side of him. Not in meetings. Not during negotiations. Not even with difficult clients. This had been something else entirely. Controlled, yes, but edged with something territorial. Protective.
Possessive.
Over her.
She turned back to her screen, fingers moving steadily, ignoring the sideways glances, the sudden curiosity rippling through the floor. She gave them nothing.
But memory was harder to dismiss.
His face close to hers. His voice, low and commanding. The heat in his eyes when he’d said he would handle the bastards.
‘My employees,’he’d said.
But his gaze had told a different story, one that had nothing to do with policy or hierarchy, and everything to do with the man behind the title.
Three Hours Later
The coffee machine hissed softly as Ishani pressed the button for Raghav’s usual black coffee. One sugar cube. The only indulgence he allowed himself during work hours.
She lifted the cup carefully and walked toward his office, aware of the sideways glances tracking her movement. The blinds of the glass walls were still half-drawn.
