There I stood, looking like the biggest idiot in the Western hemisphere, about to embarrass myself in front of the most insufferable man alive - all because of one teeny, tiny prank gone horribly, horribly wrong.

I knelt on the unforgiving marble floor, clutching a pitiful bouquet of grocery store roses in my hands. My heart was pounding so hard I could've sworn even the security guards hovering by the elevator bank heard it echoing off the polished marble floors.

I stared up at Maximilian Pemberton's imposing figure. The dude was easily six-three, broad as a linebacker, his penetrating stare drilling into me like a jackhammer. Those hazel green irises narrowed down infinitesimally as they scrutinized my kneeling form.

On the periphery of my sightline, I spotted more than one wide-eyed onlooker - assistants and analysts and interns gawping at the spectacle like it was a street performance.

This was, without a doubt, the most mortifying moment of my twenty-something life. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I silently begged the universe for mercy, channeling the patron saint of overworked assistants everywhere. Desperately wishing for the floor to just open up and swallow me whole, saving me from further humiliation.

"Maximilian Pemberton," I said, proud that my voice remained remarkably steady amidst my mental chaos. His gaze bore into me with the intensity of a hawk sizing up its prey. "Will you do me the honor of going out on a date with me?"

The silence that followed was so dense it could've suffocated a room full of asthmatic mice. Max's scowl - those harsh lines etched into his face - deepened, making him look like a marble statue come to life.

But then - no, it couldn't be - his steely gaze flickered with a brief flash of something unfamiliar. Was it amusement, or perhaps just sadistic glee? Whatever it was, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared because the smug contempt radiating from Max's overall being told me he was prepared to go nuclear.

Finally, he let out a low chuckle, the kind that made my skin crawl like it had a life of its own. "Well, well, Ms. Bennett. This certainly is a delightful turn of events."

I gulped, feeling a horrified blush scorch my cheeks. Note to self: invest in industrial-strength concealer. Of course the bastard would drag this out and relish every agonizing second. Tormenting me was one of his life's greatest pleasures.

"S-so?" I didn't dare lift my gaze from where my clammy hands gripped the bouquet stem. "Is that a yes?"

"Given how...nicely you've asked." He replied with a smirk that could curdle milk. "I suppose I could indulge this request. If only for my own amusement, Charlotte."

I flinched at the sound of my first name. I could practically hear the ominous background music playing as I realized this was not going to end well - not even close.

My stomach took a sickening plummet toward my feet. What had I done? This was a terrible, no good, very bad idea of astronomical proportions.

If the ruthless efficiency I'd witnessed him wield during my three years as his personal assistant was any indication, Max wasn't the type to let insubordinate nonsense like my little prank slide.

My boss - nay, my tormentor - now had me precisely where he wanted - cornered in abject humiliation with no choice and I had a feeling I was about to find out just how twisted his sense of humor went.

He'd probably dismantle me like a Lego set, with the meticulousness of a kid on Christmas morning, leaving nothing but scattered plastic and regret in his wake.

What could possibly possess a relatively bright, educated young woman like moi to put herself in such a preposterous, ridiculous situation, you might ask?

Well, to fully grasp the levels of sheer desperation that led to this humiliating charade, we need to rewind the clocks by exactly one month...