Beauty and the Boss (Modern Fairytales #1)(15)



“Benjamin. You have to call me Benjamin.” He walked up to her, and his woodsy, male scent washed over her. She breathed it in like it had healing properties. “Look at me, Maggie.”

She did.

But she immediately wished she hadn’t.

His blue eyes were locked on her, and his five o’clock shadow begged to be touched. His wavy hair curled to perfection next to sharp cheekbones that belonged on a statue of a Greek god, not a mere man. And his eyes…they were cold. Rock hard. “Everything will be fine. We’re a good team, remember?”

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “I know.”

“I’m glad.” Funny, he didn’t look glad. “In this relationship, you’re the boss, not me. It’s only fair, since I’m the boss in the office. What you want, you get. What you don’t want, you don’t get. I want you to be one hundred percent happy. I don’t want you to feel trapped, or taken advantage of. Not with me.”

She just stared at him.

He kept saying nice things, but never seemed to actually care.

And she didn’t think that was an act. Did he feel anything around her? Okay, he felt something, because she’d gotten up close and personal with his impressive erection last night, but how could he just shut it off like that? How did he remain so cold, all the time?

When she remained silent, he cleared his throat. “You look gorgeous, by the way. Simply stunning.” Her stomach hollowed out, because the coldness in his eyes gave way to a heat that burned through her dress, leaving her bare. Even though he was only looking, it was if he’d touched her. Everywhere. “You’re a true beauty. The kind that no amount of makeup will ever recreate.”

Her whole body flushed. Yep. Everywhere. “I feel like Belle from Beauty and the Beast.”

“How fitting.” He cocked his brow. “I guess that makes me the Beast?”

“If the shoe fits…”

He skimmed his gaze over her again, almost possessively. Didn’t he know how much that made her tremble? He rested his hand across her lower back, dangerously close to touching her butt, and she pressed her thighs together. “Oh, it fits.”

Just three little words. Nothing racy or scandalous. Even so, it made her want to throw herself into his arms and beg him to take her again. God, he was good.

“Benjamin.” If he showed the slightest sign of burning desire for her right now, she had no doubt she’d be combusting on Forty-fourth Street. And that wouldn’t work. “Another rule: You should save the intimate touching for when people are watching.”

“There are tons of people outside,” he deadpanned, running his thumb over her lower lip. “Doesn’t that count?”

Yes. It totally does. Kiss me again. “No.”

“All right.” He stepped back and let go of her, like she’d asked. “Like I said, you’re the boss. If you want me to keep my hands to myself, I will.”

She didn’t want him to. She needed him to.

She had a feeling if he didn’t, she’d forget all about this being pretend. She’d fall for him, and he’d hurt her, just like all the other men in her life had. She’d end up quitting her job anyway, and this pretense would have been for nothing. “I do.”

“All right.” He inclined his head and offered her his arm, hardly looking brokenhearted over her rejection. “Ready to go inside? Or do you need to continue your little pep talk to yourself first?”

“I’m good, thank you,” she managed to say with her head held high. Her cheeks, though, were on fire. “I’d just finished when you came up to me.”

She slid her hand into the crook of his arm, and he hugged it close to his hard side. Just that slight contact made her legs shake. The man was made of pure, lean muscle. When did he have time to work out? He spent all day and most of the nights in his office. “I find it charming, you know. The way you talk to yourself.”

Oh, she doubted that. Especially since he’d said those words without a hint of a smile. But she’d humor him anyway. “Thanks.”

They walked inside Macaluso’s, and as soon as he set foot on the threshold, it was as if the restaurant knew it. Waiters bowed and scooted out of the way, greeting him by name, and he led them to a small, private room in the back left corner of the dining room without any help. It was ensconced within dark red curtains, and there were at least ten candles flickering on random tables…

That were all empty of place settings except one.

He led her to that table, pulled her chair out for her, and waited. “Maggie?”

“Uh—” She blinked. “Is this whole room for us?”

“Yes.” His brow wrinkled, and he looked confused, as if he didn’t realize that most men didn’t do that. How…How…ridiculous. “I don’t want anyone overhearing our conversation. I wouldn’t put it past my mother to have spies following us, to see if we’re the real thing or not.”

“Oh. Right.” That, at least, sort of made sense. She sat down, and he pushed her chair in close. “Thanks. After the day I’ve had, I can’t wait to get an appletini. Or five.”

Anything to make her forget all about this.

And that sexy kiss last night.

He sat across from her and picked up a dark, expensive looking bottle of wine she’d somehow missed sitting in an ice bath. “No need to wait for a drink. I pre-ordered our wine to go with our meal. This is their best bottle of white.”

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