I met his calm gaze. I had no reason not to trust him, and he was an adult now. With his own job, with colleagues who invited him along to drinks after work. For all intents and purposes, I should be pleased- he was fitting in. He was socializing with people who liked tech as much as him. But I felt like he’d grown up a little too fast, all of a sudden, when faced with the reality of it.


    “You’re right. I hope you have fun.”


    “You too.”


    He turned his attention back his book, but I couldn’t quite let him slip away from me yet. “Will you make us spaghetti carbonara on Friday for dinner?”


    “Sure, if you want.”


    “Thanks,” I said softly.


    What do you wear to a semi-casual, semi-professional dinner with your billionaire boss? Google was surprisingly unhelpful on the topic.


    I tried on a smart grey suit and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked professional. It was a look that could easily transition from day to night. But I looked like awyer.


    Two pencil skirts and four blousester, I pulled out the blue and orange sheath dress I’d bought years ago but been too afraid to wear. It was gorgeous, which had made me buy it despite the price tag.


    I zipped it up and brushed my hair until gleaming. I looked fun and flirty. A woman with personality, but with a sophisticated side. It wouldn’t raise any eyebrows in the office, but I hoped it would raise one person’s eyebrows-tonight.


    I didn’t want to fall into bed with Julian, to be wooed like one of the countless women I imagined that he’d pursued, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him looking at me and ncing away. I wanted his attention.


    At work that Thursday, I threw myself into nning theunch strategy for an uing productunch and prepared the Monday pitch with the team.


    Despite the busy day, my mind couldn’t help spinning like a dryer stuck on thest cycle, round and round and round.


    I thought about whether or not this dinner was a good idea (it wasn’t), if I could back out with my dignity intact (unlikely) and if I’d ever been this excited by a non-date before (I hadn’t).


    My phone buzzed around five o’clock and my heart leaped in anticipation.N?velDrama.Org owns this text.


    Julian: I’m flying in from out of state and we’re thirty minutes dyed. I have to push our dinner back to 7:15. I’ll make it up to you.


    A million different responses shed through my mind before I finally settled on what I thought was the right amount of teasing and fun.


    Emily: That’s fine, I guess… Though, if you truly valued punctuality, you’d just step up and fly the ne yourself.


    Julian: It crossed my mind, but I don’t feel like getting arrested today.


    Emily: How are you going to make it up to me?


    Julian: What a wealth of answers I could give to that question. But what I have in mind will have to wait for more of a face-to-face situation, so to speak.


    My heart made pathetic little double-beats, ignoring the orders my brain issued. He’s your boss boss BOSS! Clearly, my fingers ignored them too, typing out a flirty response as if on their own ord.


    Emily: Sounds ominous.


    Julian: Don’t worry, I can be gentle.


    Heat pooled in my stomach and I closed my eyes against the images his words conjured. His tall, powerful frame behind me, pressing kisses to my neck. Feeling the strength of him against me, the reach of his hands…


    Keep your head in the game, Emily. I couldn’t fold like a house of cards at the first little gust of wind.


    Emily: Threatening everyone’s safety by texting while flying? That’s a scandal if I’ve ever heard of one. Please don’t give us press secretaries more work than necessary, Mr. Hunt. Thank you.


    Julian: There’s wifi in first-ss. But I’m very ttered that you’re worried about my safety.


    Asshole. I was just about to slip my phone back into my bag and away from my unruly fingers when another text came through.


    Julian: I’m looking forward to tonight.


    Me too, I thought, smoothing a hand over my dress. Despite all my reservations, decisions and ns, I felt more electric and alive than I had in months. I’d made the decision to y with fire-I just had to ensure I didn’t get burned in the process.


    I arrived at Kalispera exactly on time. The ce was just as cute as I remembered it. Julian wasn’t there, but the waiter showed me to a table in the back, right next to a beautiful stone wall.


    Looking around at the rustic decor and the charming details, I quickly realized that I’d made a mistake. There might not be white linen cloths at this ce but it was stupidly romantic anyway. Two tables over, I saw a couple quite literally holding hands on the wooden table, illuminated by the low lighting.


    Could I ask them to, you know, leave? Maybe tell the waiter to turn up the dimmed lighting?


    I smoothed a hand over my dress and felt incredibly brave and incredibly foolish at the same time.


    My phone buzzed.


    Julian: So sorry, but I have to cancel. Raincheck?


    My jaw hit the floor so hard I might need stitches. What? How dare he, when I was here and waiting?


    Husky, masculineughter rang out behind. “I’m sorry Ace, but I just had to see what your reaction would be. You looked genuinely disappointed.”


    “You.”


    Julian raised his hands catingly and slid into the seat opposite me.


    “Whoops.” He hung his grey dinner jacket over the back of the chair and methodically rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing tan arms and a thick silver watch. It was like I saw him rx in front of my eyes, go from the imposing CEO to a normal man.


    “How long were you watching me?”


    “Just for a few minutes.” His smile brought an immediate softening to his features. “You look great, Ace.”


    I grabbed one of the menus. “Anything for Hunt Industries.”


    “I envy my own employees for getting to spend the entire day with you looking like that.”


    I shook my head at his exaggerated ttery. “Look at your menu, idiot. I’m hungry.”


    “No, ma’am. You’re the food expert and this restaurant was your idea. So you order whatever you think we’ll like.”


    “Really?””Sure.” Julian ran an absent hand through his thick hair, mussing it up and away from its neat wave. “I trust you.”


    I dove into the menu with the fervor of someone being asked to choose a college major. When the waiter came I rattled off a list of my favorite Greek dishes and some new ones I’d always wanted to try, making it clear that we’d be sharing them all.