Tempting the boss

Chapter 9: A Proposal of Control

Isabella barely had time to steady herself before a waiter approached with a tray of champagne flutes. She grabbed one, needing something to cool the heat that still lingered on her skin from Alexander's touch. The bubbles fizzed against her lips as she took a sip, but they did little to quiet the racing of her heart.

"Running away so soon?"

His voice was smooth, teasing, as he appeared beside her, hands tucked casually into his pockets. Despite his relaxed stance, there was nothing casual about the way his gaze settled on her.

She turned slightly, just enough to meet his eyes without giving away the effect he had on her. "I wasn’t aware I was required to stay by your side all night."

He tilted his head, watching her with that same unnerving intensity, the kind that made her feel like he saw more than she wanted to reveal. "You’re not required. But I can’t say I like seeing you slip away."

Her pulse spiked, but she masked it with a raised brow. "Possessive, are we?"

Alexander chuckled, the sound low and rich, vibrating through the space between them. "Let’s call it... an investment."

She narrowed her eyes. "Investment? In what, exactly?"

Before he could answer, a well-dressed man approached, offering Alexander a firm handshake. "Blackwood. It’s been too long."

Alexander’s demeanor shifted in an instant. The teasing edge disappeared, replaced by something sharper, more composed. "Jonathan," he greeted smoothly. "Likewise."

Jonathan’s eyes flicked to Isabella, curiosity sparking. "And you are?"

"Miss Carter," Alexander supplied before she could answer for herself. "My personal assistant."

Something in the way he said it made her stomach twist. Jonathan’s brows lifted slightly. "Assistant? Interesting. I would’ve assumed otherwise."

Isabella stiffened, but Alexander remained unfazed. "Assumptions are dangerous, Jonathan. You, of all people, should know that."

The man laughed, clearly amused, but didn’t push further. He excused himself after another round of pleasantries, leaving Isabella and Alexander in the same charged silence they always seemed to fall into.

Isabella turned to him, her patience wearing thin. "Do you always keep people guessing?"

His smirk was maddening. "Only when it’s necessary."

She exhaled, feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on her. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, the low murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses. Around them, elegantly dressed guests moved in fluid motions, a world she still wasn’t sure she belonged to.

Just as she was about to step away, Alexander leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Meet me in my office first thing tomorrow morning. There’s something I need to discuss."

Her stomach flipped, and not just from the champagne. "Business-related?"

His gaze darkened, the playfulness gone. "That depends on how you look at it."

And then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd as effortlessly as he had appeared, leaving her standing there, heart pounding.

Isabella clenched the stem of her glass, forcing herself to take a steadying breath. This game—whatever it was—was becoming dangerous. And yet, despite every warning bell in her head, she knew one thing for certain.

She would be in his office tomorrow morning.