At the very end of the hall, she reached a massive desk. The nameplate was simple: Executive Assistant to the CEO.
The assistant didn’t say a word. She just gave the heavy door a single, sharp knock and pushed it open.
Ishani took one deep breath to steady her heart, gripped her folder, and stepped inside.
Chapter 1
The office looked exactly like she’d imagined a CEO’s office would.
Glass walls on three sides, the kind that turned opaque from the outside when the blinds were down.
And today, every blind was drawn.
The office was large, but nothing about it felt excessive. A wide black desk sat at the center, ordered to the last detail—laptop docked, tablet placed within reach, files stacked neatly, a pen resting exactly where it should. To the other side stood a conference table, the chairs pushed in and aligned.
It wasn’t designed to impress. It was designed to function.
It was designed for decisions, not conversations.
And today, she realised, it was designed for privacy.
Her heels sank into the thick carpet as she crossed the room. To her left, glass cabinets reflected her movement—navy suit passing rows of neatly arranged gold and silver awards.
Raghav Khanna didn’t look up.
His attention stayed on the tablet in his hand, thumb moving with quick, impatient swipes. Whatever he was reading wasn’t pleasing him.
Up close, the man from the business magazines didn’t look impressive.
He looked unavoidable.
She understood why people lowered their voices around him.
His features were sharp and disciplined—a strong jaw, clean cheekbones, a straight nose that gave his face a commanding edge. His dark hair was styled with intention, not vanity. There was power in the way he held himself, in the stillness that suggested he was used to being obeyed.
When he shifted, the charcoal suit followed the movement, precise in a way that suggested it was made for him and no one else.
Ishani felt a sudden, sharp hitch in her chest. She forced her lungs to behave, keeping her expression a cool, professional mask. If he was this striking in person, she’d just have to work twice as hard to ignore it.
His jaw tightened briefly. He tilted his chin toward the leather chair across the desk.
“Sit.”
The word was quiet and final.
Ishani sat. She kept her back straight, her hands resting on the folder in her lap. She didn’t speak. Didn’t adjust herself. Didn’t offer a greeting.
She waited.
The silence stretched. Intentional. As if he were deciding when she was worth acknowledging.
She didn’t give him the satisfaction of filling it.
At last, he looked up.
His gaze settled on her—steady, unreadable, the kind that didn’t rush or soften. It wasn’t curiosity. It was assessment, quiet and thorough, as if he were used to deciding things with a single look.
She didn’t shift.
