Before Ishani could object, Kavya had grabbed a stack of sticky notes from her desk and was writing names on them. “Samrat,” she announced, slapping the first note on Ishani’s desk. “Ten to one odds.”
“The new VP from tech,” someone called out. “He keeps finding reasons to come to this floor.”
“That intern from legal who stares at Ishani in the cafeteria.”
The suggestions flew faster as Kavya scribbled names, assigning odds with the confidence of a seasoned bookie. Cash began accumulating in her desk drawer as colleagues placed their bets.
“This is ridiculous,” Ishani protested, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t even know half of these people.”
“That’s what makes it fun,” Kavya replied, counting bills. “Mystery and romance—the perfect office entertainment.”
“And completely against company policy.”
Raghav’s cold voice cut through the chatter like a blade. The group froze, then scattered in different directions, leaving only Kavya standing beside Ishani’s desk, her hand still holding a wad of cash. Raghav stood three feet away, his expression as welcoming as a tax audit.
“Gambling on company premises is explicitly forbidden in the employee handbook, Ms. Singh,” he said, his gaze fixed on Kavya. “Section 4, paragraph 6, if memory serves.”
Kavya swallowed visibly. “It’s just a bit of fun, Boss. Valentine’s Day spirit.”
“Coordinate the Jakarta presentation materials today. All three versions,” he replied, as if she hadn’t spoken. “I want them on my desk before you leave. Complete with metrics analysis.”
Kavya’s eyes widened. “But that’s—”
“A task well within your job description. Unlike gambling.” His tone made it clear the conversation was over.
As Kavya gathered her sticky notes and money, her shoulders slumped, Ishani felt something snap inside her. A flicker of defiance that had been building with each day’s strange tension.
“It was harmless,” she said, standing from her chair to face Raghav directly. “Just colleagues having a bit of fun.”
Raghav’s eyebrows rose fractionally. “Fun has its place. That place is not during work hours.”
“It was a five-minute distraction,” Ishani countered, aware that the entire floor was now watching their exchange with the attention of a tennis match audience. “And punishing Kavya with extra work is excessive.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t recall asking for your input on management decisions, Ishani.”
“And I don’t recall needing permission to defend a friend, Boss.” The title came out sharper than she’d intended.
Raghav took one deliberate step closer, towering as he looked down at her. “The betting ends now.”
Ishani didn’t back away, though her pulse hammered against her ribs. “What exactly bothers you about it? That people are having fun, or that they’re speculating about who’s interested in me?”
The air between them thickened. Someone at a nearby desk dropped a pen, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense silence.
“What bothers me,” Raghav said, his voice dropping lower, meant only for her despite their audience, “is that these gifts are escalating.”
His proximity made it hard to breathe evenly. They stood close enough that she could count his eyelashes, see the tiny flecks of amber in his dark irises, catch the scent of his mint from his breath and something darker.
“I can manage these things myself,” she challenged quietly, holding her ground despite her racing heart.
Raghav’s eyes darkened, something fierce and possessive flashing in them before he controlled it. “Someone is watching you too closely, Ishani. That doesn’t concern you?”
The question hung between them, loaded with more than its simple words. His gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before returning to her eyes, the gesture so quick she might have imagined it.
Before she could answer, he stepped back, breaking the tense bubble that had formed around them. “The betting stops,” he repeated, his voice returning to its normal volume. “And Ms. Singh will complete those presentations today.”
He walked away before Ishani could respond, leaving her standing by her desk, breathless and confused. The weight of his words settled around her—not just their literal meaning, but something deeper in his tone, intimate, concerned, edged with something that felt almost like... possession.
Ishani slumped into her chair, glancing at the concert tickets next to the plush puppy on her desk. Valentine’s Day was just two days away. That meant two more gifts would arrive, following the same pattern. She felt a nagging sense that the mystery behind these gifts was much deeper than just a secret admirer.
