Romancing my Boss

Chapter 11

Over a candlelit table draped in crisp linen, I studied Max across the flickering glow of the taper candles. The bistro's intimate lighting cast dancing shadows across the chiseled planes of his face, somehow heightening his already imposing presence.

Yet despite the romance novel ambiance, there was nothing overtly seductive about Max's manner. He regarded me with that steady, inscrutable gaze that had issued me a thousand subtle rebukes in the office. As if he could no more turn off his natural reserve than I could pretend this farcical evening held any deeper meaning.

Still, I felt compelled to prod at him – this enigmatic man whose closest truths remained so tantalizingly obscured.

"So is this the part where you regale me with tales of your dashing life of intrigue?" I asked lightly, gesturing around the ultrachic yet distinctly Parisian-themed surroundings. "The dark secrets behind your remarkable success? The lurid dalliances with European debutantes?"

Max's mouth curved faintly at that. "I'm afraid my life makes for decidedly unromantic storytelling, Ms. Bennett. But perhaps you'd permit me to indulge in a brief moment of asking the questions?"

I felt my defenses instinctively rise at the prospect of him prying into my personal affairs. I may have caught an unguarded glimpse of Max's history tonight, but that wasn't an open invitation for scrutiny. I forced an airy laugh.

"Getting a bit too into character, aren't we? I'm pretty sure it's the dashing hero who's meant to dole out cryptic revelations. While the hapless ingénue just smiles and looks pretty."

That infuriatingly perceptive gaze saw right through my deflection. "On the contrary," he murmured in that devastating timbre that sparked goosebumps along my arms. "Isn't the heroine's role to gradually unmask the brooding rake through her endless reserves of compassion and...tenacity?"

His slight emphasis on the last word made the breath stall in my lungs. Did he truly see me that way - a relentless force chipping away at his fortified walls? The thought was at once thrilling and utterly ludicrous.

Still, I rallied my trademark brashness in the face of such unnerving insights. "Well, then I suppose that makes you the smolderingly wounded hero in need of redemption," I countered.

Holding his gaze, I trailed my fingertip along the rim of my wineglass in a subconscious gesture. "Do tell me, Mr. Pemberton—what haunts a man like you beneath all that dashing bravado? What secrets lurk behind that steady mask?"

Our lighthearted banter shifted, the atmosphere charging with an electric undercurrent that raised the fine hairs on my nape. Max's watchful silence stretched taut between us as that piercing stare bored into me with unsettling intensity.

Just when I thought he wouldn't answer, his deep voice sliced through the bristling tension. "I'm afraid my...mask would prove rather disappointing beneath the surface, Ms. Bennett. There are no sordid tales of betrayal or anguished pasts to unearth. My life's shadows consist of little more than...contentious business acquisitions and decision paralysis."

His wry delivery contradicted the glimmer of something somber flickering in his gaze as he spoke. But before I could call him on that flicker of vulnerability, he continued in a more customary tone of distant reserve.

"But enough about me. I'm far more intrigued by your own remarkable trajectory from...is it Oregon?" One dark brow arched in polite inquiry. "To a prestigious executive assistant position in the heart of Manhattan's elite business society."

The reminder of my humble roots twisted my stomach into a sudden knot of discomfort. I shifted in my seat, abruptly regretting Max's formidable attention toward my personal life.