My hardcore Boss

Chapter 5: That Night

In the quiet of the room, I take a deep breath, letting myself sink into the stillness. From the open balcony, the gentle song of cicadas fills the air, mingling with a warm summer breeze that carries the scent of hay and flowers. The night is clear, and the softness of the air, the rustling leaves, and a distant bird's call make it feel almost surreal. For a moment, I let myself get lost in this sense of calm.

I stretch out across the bed, the voluminous skirt of my red dress pooling over the golden bedspread. Only now do I realize how soft the bed is—luxuriously so. A small smile crosses my lips as I think about the evening; despite the chaos, we pulled it off. I feel a pleasant sense of accomplishment.

"Are you happy?" Max's voice breaks through my thoughts. I look up to see him walking toward me from the balcony, loosening his tie. He lies down beside me on the bed, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his presence.

"It was definitely... an unusual experience," I admit, smiling. "But, yes, I'm pleased with how it went."

He lets out a soft chuckle. "Me too. I've still got a thousand questions swirling in my head, but I think those can wait until tomorrow."

A comfortable silence falls between us, but then something nags at me. "Max... is that your real name? I mean, earlier, you mentioned you changed it. If it's too personal, you don't have to answer. I was just curious..."

He hesitates, then nods. "It's my real name, or rather, the abbreviation of my real name—Massimo." He smiles slightly. "I promised you answers, so ask away. Besides, our professional secrecy agreement protects anything I tell you. So you couldn't spill my secrets even if you wanted to."

My lips quirk into a grin. "I wouldn't dream of it." After a pause, I add, "So... what was your stage name?"

His eyes flash with amusement. "Why, are you planning to look up my filmography? I didn't think you were that interested in porn." His grin widens, and he turns to study me, clearly teasing, as if daring me to react.

I feel my cheeks flush. He's absolutely right—I was thinking of looking him up. "It's just curiosity," I mumble, feeling flustered. "I mean... you didn't put much effort into changing your name for work, so I thought maybe it would be something... intuitive?"

He raises an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Are you suggesting I lack imagination? I assure you, my co-stars would disagree! I've been very inventive with them, thank you very much. And after your earlier rejection, I'm afraid I can't even prove you wrong."

I sit up, feeling my cheeks turn even redder. "No! I didn't mean that! I meant you have plenty of imagination, especially for... for what you did in that industry! I was just talking about your name, not—" My voice rises in pitch, and I stop myself, realizing I'm practically shouting.

He smirks, unrelenting. "Oh, so you mean the cinema I was in. Tell me, just how many of my 'works' did you manage to watch? Did you... enjoy seeing me have sex?"

I freeze, staring at him, completely at a loss. The audacity of his question takes my breath away, but there's a glint of humor in his eyes. He's enjoying every second of this, and despite myself, I start to laugh. Fine, if he wants to tease, I'll play along.

"I haven't seen many," I say with a mischievous smile. "Just the one with you and... another man. And he was the, let's say, 'active' participant."

His jaw drops, and for once, I've caught him off guard. He recovers quickly, though, his eyes narrowing. "Yes, I've done scenes with men too. But I have to admit, it stings a bit that that's the only one you saw. I wouldn't want you left with the wrong impression."

He leans in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Tell me, what would it take to show you my experience with women? I could demonstrate right now, if you're curious..."

The intensity in his eyes sends a thrill through me. His voice is slow, deliberate, every word seeming to linger in the air. The promise in his tone, the almost magnetic pull—it's intoxicating. My mind betrays me with images of his bare skin, the memory of his touch. I swallow, struggling to stay composed.

"I... I guess I'll just have to take your word for it."

He laughs softly, shaking his head. "Two rejections in one night. You're a tough one, Cyntia."

He rises from the bed, walking toward the balcony, and for a moment, I sense a hint of disappointment in his posture. He turns, his face serious again. "So, is there anything else you want to know about me? Beyond... who I've slept with?"

The question catches me off guard. His tone is earnest, his gaze searching. Maybe he really does want me to understand him, to see beyond the persona he shows the world.

"There are so many things I'd like to ask," I say quietly, feeling a strange vulnerability. "Like... what was it like where you grew up? How hard was it to survive in that industry? Did you... did you enjoy it? Why did you leave? Why did you start?" I pause, feeling a bit ridiculous with so many questions spilling out at once. "And... how do you manage to be like this? So... confident. So in control."

Max looks at me, surprised by the barrage of questions. He sits back down on the bed, his expression thoughtful. "Those are a lot of questions. I don't think anyone's ever asked me so many at once." He lets out a small laugh, but there's a weight to his gaze.

For the first time, I sense a vulnerability in him—a side he doesn't often show. And as we sit there, the night air drifting in from the balcony, I feel the distance between us shrink. In this strange, secluded moment, we're just two people, both a little lost, both a little curious about each other.