Romancing my Boss

Chapter 32 - Jean's POV

I strode into Max's office, not bothering to knock. A massive ebony desk dominated the room, its surface meticulously organized. How very like Maximilian, I mused, to maintain such rigid control even in his physical environment.

His reaction was immediate - his head snapped up, emerald eyes narrowing beneath thick, dark brows. Even after all these years, that simmering intensity still crackled between us like a livewire.

"What do you want, Duvall?" he growled, leaning back in his high-backed leather chair.

I shot him a cool smirk, unfazed by his hostility. That was just Maximilian's way - all bravado and alpha posturing. How delightful it was to ruffle those perfectly groomed feathers. "I zink it's time we 'ad a talk about Mademoiselle Bennett, non?" I purred, my accent thickening with amusement.

His jaw clenched at the mention of Charlotte's name, a muscle ticking tellingly. Ah, there it was - the chink in his carefully constructed armor. "She's none of your concern," he bit out, green eyes flashing with poorly concealed possessiveness.

"On ze contrary, mon ami," I said lightly, sauntering further into the room. I trailed my fingers along the edge of his desk, noting how his gaze followed the movement with laser focus. "I wish to bring 'er onto ze Sakura project."

Max's eyes flashed dangerously, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. "Absolutely not. That's highly confidential."

I couldn't help the thrill that ran through me at his vehemence. Oh, how I loved to dance along the knife's edge of his control. "And yet, you brought me in as a consultant, did you not?" I pressed, leaning casually against his desk. "Surely you recognized my ability to identify... précieux assets."

"If this is about getting closer to her..." he started, voice low with warning.

I laughed then, unable to resist baiting him further. "Jaloux, Maximilian? Perhaps if you weren't so busy burying your head in ze sand, you'd see ze remarkable woman right in front of you."

He shot to his feet, his imposing frame radiating fury. The abrupt movement sent his chair rolling back, the soft thud as it hit the wall punctuating the tension between us. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Duvall," he snarled.

I reveled in his anger, drinking in the fire that lit his eyes. This was the Maximilian I remembered - passionate, alive, not the cold automaton he'd become in recent years. "Don't I?" I challenged, holding his smoldering gaze. "Tell me, how long are you going to continue denying yourself zis chance at 'appiness, hmm? Playing ze martyr doesn't suit you, old friend."

Something flickered in his eyes then - a flash of raw vulnerability quickly masked. We both knew I'd struck a nerve. I felt a pang of guilt, quickly brushed aside. This was for his own good, after all. And if I enjoyed the game a little too much... well, who could blame me?

Max and I... our history ran deeper than most realized. Yes, we'd once been fierce rivals, vying for the affections of the same woman. Kathrine had been brilliant, beautiful, a force of nature. Her laughter could light up a room, her wit sharp enough to cut diamond. I still remembered the intoxicating scent of her perfume, the way her eyes sparkled when she was passionate about something.

In the end, she had chosen me over Max's relentless pursuit. Those months with her had been some of the happiest of my life. But our time together had been cut devastatingly short when tragedy struck. The memory of that day still haunted me - the screeching of tires, the shattering of glass, the deafening silence that followed.

I pushed the painful thoughts away, focusing instead on the man before me. I could still see the echoes of that loss reflected in Maximilian's eyes at times. The way he guarded his heart so fiercely, always keeping the world at arm's length. With Kathrine's passing, a part of him had shut down, leaving only the hard-edged businessman behind.