The meal was quiet, harmonious. A new kind of atmosphere hung between me and Alex, something I hadn't anticipated—warm, delicate, fragile. I knew he was my boss, and yet… the pull I felt toward him was undeniable. Maybe some people would call it foolish or inappropriate, but attraction doesn't always wait for perfect timing or ideal circumstances. It simply exists.
Soft music hummed in the background, blending seamlessly with the clinking of cutlery and the low murmur of other diners. I found myself gazing at him—not as my CEO, but as the man he was beneath the expensive suit. There was something disarming in the way his eyes occasionally flickered to mine, and how he listened with quiet intent. Ever since that night of unexpected punishment, my thoughts had been straying too often to places they shouldn't.
Remember Emma, my inner voice snapped. He's your boss, and more importantly, he's not from your world. Don't lose yourself. But my heart clearly hadn't gotten the memo.
My phone vibrated. A string of missed calls from Amber and Brittany. I quickly excused myself under the guise of freshening up and made my way to the restroom. Dessert was next—or maybe I was the dessert, I thought, rolling my eyes at my own subconscious. I was getting ahead of myself. Again.
In the restroom, I dialed Brittany and Amber on video.
"Look at you all glammed up! Somebody's glowing," Brittany teased the moment she picked up.
"Miss you too," I said with a smirk. "But please, Britt, tone it down before you scare off your entire dating pool."
"Oh, honey, you're one to talk," Amber chimed in. "At this rate, you're the one who'll be a forever single dog. Me and Britt? Wedding bells in no time."
I laughed. Their energy was infectious. No matter what was going on in my life, these girls reminded me of who I was—who I'd always be.
"Okay, but real talk," Brittany said, growing more serious. "We're thinking of doing a girls' night at Brian's Club. You in?"
"Can't tonight," I said with a soft pout. "I'm… actually having dinner with my boss."
Their shocked faces said everything.
"Wait. Alex? As in 'cold CEO with eyes of steel' Alex?" Amber gaped.
"Yup," I nodded, half-smiling. "Long story. But he's… different. Tonight, anyway."
We exchanged a few more jokes before I hung up and touched up my makeup. As I walked back to the table, I caught myself smiling again.
"Well, someone looks suspiciously happy," Alex said, one brow arched in mock suspicion.
I flushed. "Sorry, I didn't realize I took that long."
"No complaints," he replied, swirling the wine in his glass. "Just surprised to see you smiling. You've got a beautiful smile, Emma."
My cheeks betrayed me, heating up instantly. "Well, you're the one who wears that cold, scary face all day. It makes me want to run half the time."
He laughed—an unguarded, rich sound that did weird things to my insides.
"So, Miss Stone…" He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. "What do you think of me now?"
Was it just me, or was he actually flirting?
I hesitated. "You're… kind. And surprising."
"Stingy review," he teased. "But the night's still young. Maybe I'll earn a full paragraph by dessert."
I bit my lip to stop the laugh bubbling in my chest. This man.
Our dessert arrived, and the conversation waned. But our eyes spoke louder than our mouths ever could. Every glance he threw my way sent flutters through me, and I could barely meet his gaze without melting into a puddle of nerves.
Once we finished, I assumed we'd return to the car, but instead, he turned down a quiet side street.
"Sir, the car's this way," I said, confused.
"We've eaten a lot. A little walk might help digestion. That okay with you?"
He threw the question so casually, but I couldn't stop thinking about his earlier comment—the night is still young. What exactly did that mean?
"Sure," I said, falling in step behind him.
"Emma," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "Stop walking behind me. Come here."
Without waiting, he reached for my hand and gently tugged me beside him. I swallowed hard. His touch was warm, grounding. It felt like we were… something more than colleagues.
"Yes, sir?" I responded automatically.
He gave me a playful glare. "Can you stop calling me 'sir'? It makes me feel ancient. And a little like a school principal."
"But—"
Before I could protest, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. My breath caught. My heart stuttered. When he pulled away, I stared at him, dazed.
"That's your punishment," he murmured with a smirk. "Next time you call me 'sir', I'll do it again."
I blinked. "Is that a threat or a promise?"
He chuckled but didn't answer. "Come on. There's a cinema ahead. How about we catch a movie?"
Still dazed, I nodded, following him like a moth drawn to flame.
Inside, the crowd barely fazed me. He bought the tickets—for a horror film, of all things. My heart sank. Horror wasn't just not my thing—I was terrified of it.
We settled into our seats, popcorn in hand. The lights dimmed. The creepy score began, and I instinctively covered my eyes.
"You could've told me you hate horror," he murmured near my ear, his voice like velvet.
"I don't hate it," I lied. "Just startled by the volume, that's all."
He gave a knowing smile, but said nothing. As the intensity ramped up, my breathing grew shallow. I felt him reach over, gently covering my ears, and in one swift move, he lifted me up—bridal style—and carried me out of the room.
My head spun as we entered a different theatre. A Charlie Chaplin film was playing—warm, lighthearted, funny.
"This is more your speed," he said, placing me gently in the seat beside him.
And it was. I found myself laughing freely, heart finally uncoiling.
When I turned to him mid-laugh, I caught him looking at me—not with amusement, but with something softer, deeper. It wasn't the cool, calculated Alex I knew. This version of him watched me like I was something precious.
Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe it was just a good night, a good meal, a shared moment.
But something in me whispered—it was the beginning of something more.