Two workplace enemies find themselves in close proximity on a tropical company retreat that challenges their assumptions—and just might make them to fall for each other—in this romcom by a by a beloved TikTok author.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Nisha J. Tuli’s Not Safe For Work, which is out May 20th 2025.
Engineer Trishara Malik once dreamed of being the first woman of color to smash the glass ceiling at WMC Purcell, but after years of dealing with white male privilege and blatant nepotism, she watches her hard-earned promotion go to her nemesis, Rafe Gallagher—the boss’s son. Teetering on the edge of burnout, Tris is stunned when she’s picked to attend WMC’s corporate leadership retreat in Hawaii. It’s a chance to revive her stalled career and compete for a coveted spot in an executive training program—plus, three weeks in paradise! The only downside? Rafe is her co-attendee.
Tris plans to avoid Rafe entirely, but when she arrives in Maui, a booking error has them stuck sharing the honeymoon suite. Sure, it’s not all torture. Rafe is a smoldering ten—okay fine, an eleven—but after years of competition, they can barely stand being in the same time zone. As they vie against each other during aptitude tests and team-building exercises, Tris begins to realize Rafe might not be the villain after all. With her dreams at stake, can she learn to trust the man who might have been standing in her corner all along?
Everything is gorgeous—even better than the photos. Massive fountains spray in graceful arcs, and tall marble columns stand sentinel on either side of massive glass doors. It’s stunning. It’s breathtaking.
A giddy smile spreads across my face, picturing three weeks of cocktails with paper umbrellas and the sea and the surf and all the fresh seafood I can eat.
After exiting the car, we roll our luggage along marble tiles through the ostentatious lobby. The soaring ceiling ends in a massive stained-glass dome that filters warm Hawaiian sun into prisms of colored light that dance across the floor.
We wait at the reception desk, and a smiling woman gestures us over.
Rafe and I step forward simultaneously, nearly colliding, and then grind to a halt.
“You go,” I say with a wave. “From this moment on, I don’t want to see you, hear you, or even remember you exist. Have a delightful time.”
Rafe presses his lips together, and I notice they’re rather plush and full, and I wonder what it would be like to—No. Stop. I don’t wonder anything.
“Ladies first,” he replies.
“That is so sexist.”
“Then I’ll go first.”
“No, you won’t.”
He makes an exasperated sound, and at this point, I don’t care who goes first, I just want to see how far I can push before he ends up rocking himself in a corner.
With one last glare tossed in his direction, I head for the desk and give the woman my name. Kalena (according to her nametag) taps away on her computer, the smile never leaving her face.
“Ah, we have you here for three weeks with WMC Purcell, Ms. Trishara Malik and Mr. Rafe Gallagher.” She looks up from her screen and gives me an owlish blink. “Will you be needing two keys?”
“Excuse me?” I ask, not sure what she’s getting at.
“Two keys? Usually, each guest likes to have one. I’m happy to create as many as you need.”
“There is only one guest,” I say, my pulse kicking up.
“We have you in the Orchid Suite for the duration of your stay for two people. You’ll love it. It has the best views in the hotel.” She pauses, indecision seeping into her expression as she watches me slowly dissolve into a pile of horrified silt. “I’ll get you two keys. You can always get more if you need them.”
My heart throbs in my throat.
Why does she keep talking about keys?
Why would I need so many keys?
“No, there’s been a mistake,” I finally gasp.
I notice Rafe standing a few feet away with another desk clerk also tapping at his keyboard, a line drawn between his brows.
The clerk looks up and makes his way over to Kalena before their heads bend together in a universal gesture of something is up. The two confer quietly for a moment, and then the man gestures Rafe towards our end of the counter.
“There is a mistake,” I say again. “It’s supposed to be two rooms. One for each of us. A suite for me. Check again. Please.”
Kalena resumes tapping at her computer, her steady smile dipping at the corners. I feel Rafe approaching, his big body stopping just behind me as we manifest a set of pleading stares directed at the hotel clerk who now holds the fate of our entire world in her hands.
This can’t be happening.
Kalena finally looks up. “I’m so sorry Ms. Malik, Mr. Gallagher, but we only have one room booked under your names.”
“Okay, he’ll take another room then,” I say, pointing to Rafe with a bit more flourish than necessary. When my knuckles accidentally connect with his stomach, he grunts and glares at me as I offer him an apologetic look over my shoulder. Geez, his stomach is hard. My hand is throbbing. Is he wearing a steel undershirt?
Kalena leans over the counter and lowers her voice, clearly worried I’m about to make a scene. “I’m sorry, but we are completely booked up. There are no more rooms.”
My eyes dart around the sprawling lobby. “There has to be. This hotel is massive. You must keep some on reserve for emergencies.”
She nods, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Normally we do, yes, but it’s an extremely busy week, and even those are gone.”
“How can that be?”
“We have several weddings and conferences booked,” she says in a way that suggests it should explain everything.
“He’ll take anything.” I gesture to Rafe again, this time being sure to avoid his knuckle-bruising abs of iron.
“Excuse me? I will not,” Rafe interjects, stepping up to the desk.
I attempt to silence him with a look, but he rests an elbow on the counter and flashes that hundred-watt smile he saves for everyone else.
But wait, this is good. No one with a beating heart could fail to be moved by that smile.
“There must be something else?” he says, smoother than the velvet lining of a jewelry case.
Kalena starts in on her keyboard again, her fingers flying.
“I’m really sorry,” she says after another minute, and I sympathize because she seems genuinely distraught about disappointing him.
“A broom closet. A sofa in the lobby. A towel on the beach. Anything,” I beg as Rafe gives me increasingly incredulous looks I choose to ignore. I’m starting to lose it. Rafe’s standing too close. His scent and his heat are confusing me as I try to find a way around this. I’m hot and dizzy, and why does everything smell like Irish Spring?
Kalena hits a few more keys and then crisply slides two small cardboard envelopes across the desk with definite purpose. “I’m sorry. This is all we have. I can call around, but every hotel in the vicinity is booked.”
She nudges the white rectangles again with a finality that suggests she’s done with me, and I stare at them numbly.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I snap when I catch Rafe’s glare. “This isn’t my fault. You’re the one ruining my vacation.”
“This isn’t a vacation, and you think I want this?”
He swipes the keys from the counter and then takes off towards the bank of elevators, rolling his suitcase. I hesitate, but now he has both keys, so I reluctantly chase after him.
We stand side by side as we wait for the elevator.
“Just stay away from me,” I say.
“No problem. You’re the one obsessed with me. Not the other way around.”
“Shut up. I’m not obsessed with you. God, your ego is the size of Canada.”
The elevator pings, and we lurch for the entrance, our suitcases bumping and our bodies colliding. Rafe steps back and gestures inside.
“Ladies first,” he says, his previous glower replaced with a smirk that would make Satan look like a cinnamon roll. I know he’s saying it just to piss me off.
Refusing to give him the satisfaction, I sidle past and turn around, not looking his way. He saunters inside, presses the button, and we silently ride up. The doors open again, and I hold out my hand.
“My key.”
He places the small cardboard rectangle in my hand, his fingers brushing mine as a jolt of electricity zings straight to my navel. Ignoring it, I step off the elevator and march down the hall, swiping the key against the electronic pad and throwing open the door.
Despite everything, I can barely contain my awe.
The vast space is covered in white tile, punctuated with pale blue, turquoise, and hot pink accents. Straight ahead is an entire row of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bright blue sea.
Kalena said it was the best view in the hotel, and my anger with Belinda and her inability to make even the most basic travel plans shifts down a notch.
As I pass through the suite, a kitchen with gleaming white cabinets and countertops sits to my right. A nest of sleek white sofas is angled to look out the windows, where a large, curved balcony supports a hot tub and two loungers. There’s also a large glass dining table surrounded by fabric-covered chairs, along with a desk in the corner.
Rafe lets out a low whistle, and though I agree this is a whistle-worthy room, the sound lodges into the middle of my back.
“I cannot believe this,” I say, dragging my suitcases farther into the suite.
After leaving them standing in the middle of the room to go exploring, I find two massive bathrooms—one with a huge walk-in shower with multiple heads and another with a deep, large soaker tub.
I enter a room with the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. Pushed up against the far wall, it’s covered in crisp white sheets and blue and pink pillows, the headboard carved of deep mahogany wood. More windows look out to the sea, and a glass door exits to the other end of the balcony.
I do another circle of the suite, frowning. Something isn’t adding up.
Rafe’s head is in the refrigerator, stocked with wine, beer, and a mountain of snacks. He pulls out a bottle of lager with a hipster label and pops off the top.
“This could be worse,” he says, taking a deep gulp. I turn away, distracted by the bob of his Adam’s apple and the bit of stubble covering his jaw.
“Do you notice something?” I spin back to look at him, hands planted on my hips.
“What?” He lowers the bottle and looks around.
“There’s only one bed.”
“That can’t be possible. This suite is huge.”
“Well, unless it’s hidden in a secret dimension, I only find one bedroom and one bed.”
He gives me a skeptical look before he proceeds through the suite. I stand in the kitchen, tapping my foot as I wait for him to discover what I’ve already discovered. A moment later, he pops back into the main room.
“You’re right.”
“Did you think I was hard of counting bedrooms?”
He ignores my comment. “How can a suite this size have only one bedroom?”
It’s then I notice a glossy brochure sitting on the kitchen counter, proudly welcoming us to the Orchid Honeymoon Suite.
Rafe is reading over my shoulder as I let out a groan.
“I. Will. Kill. Belinda,” I snarl, crumpling the brochure between my hands and grinding my teeth. “I will slash her tires. I’ll…”
“Put laxative in her coffee,” Rafe adds.
I look at him, startled by the support.
He seems equally horrified, but that might be because it’s the first time we’ve ever agreed on anything.
“Yeah,” I say weakly.
“Should we wrestle for who gets the bed?” he asks, and maybe it’s the long travel day and the stress of sharing a room with Rafe Gallagher, but I nearly burst into laughter at the unexpected quip. He never jokes with me. Is he trying to be…charming?
I cram the urge back into my throat, exhaling an undignified snort that I’ll be revisiting with horror in my head again and again. It will be a cold day in hell before I laugh at one of Rafe Gallagher’s jokes.
“This is my room, so I get the bed,” I say.
“How is this your room any more than it’s mine?”
“Belinda booked the suite for me.”
He gives me a side-eye, and I have to hand it to him—the man’s side-eye is so flawlessly executed that I’ve never felt more side-eyed in my entire life. “Yeah, I’m still not entirely sure why my father agreed to that. This must be costing the company a fortune.”
“Your father,” I say with renewed hope, wondering why this hadn’t already occurred to me. “You can stay with him!”
Rafe’s eyes narrow. “I’m not staying with him.”
The menace in his voice is so…final that I resist the urge to argue.
I blink at him and he blinks at me.
“Then I’m definitely taking the bed.” I cross the suite to grab one of my suitcases. I deliver it to my room and then march back out for the second as Rafe tracks my every movement.
This would have been so much more dramatic with just one.
With my shoulders thrown back, I wheel the rest of my luggage behind me.
“Fine, I’ll take the sofa,” Rafe says. “But you owe me a big, massive, epic favor, Malik. It’s going to be some—”
I slam the door, cutting off whatever he was planning to say next.
