Seated at the bar with Jean-Pierre, that ridiculously suave Frenchman proved to be an effortlessly charming companion once again. He continued to regale me with stories of his globetrotting business dealings in that melodious baritone, each accented word practically dripping with European sophistication.

As the evening wore on, I noticed Max's smoldering gaze finding me more and more from across the ballroom. Oh-oh, looks like someone was getting a little territorial! Each time our eyes met, that delicious frisson of tension shot straight to my loins, making my skin practically sizzle with anticipation.

Part of me felt a delicious rush of feminine power commanding this level of rapt interest from such an Adonis of virile masculinity. Though the other part - well, that part was absolutely giddy at the thought of those emerald eyes finally drinking in the full provocative sight I was orchestrating.

The game was undeniably afoot now. The slinky dress, the dashing Jean-Pierre as my tantalizing prop, every heated look and lingering caress between us - it was all rapidly turning Manhattan's most infamous Bachellor and CEO into a bubbling cauldron of male aggression and primal want.

Jean-Pierre was only too happy to play along, seemingly delighting in each poorly concealed flash of Max's territorial nature whenever he leaned in too close or allowed his hand to brazenly skim my bare back. I'd shoot my boss a secret, taunting look in those moments, silently daring him to come unraveled at the sight.

At one point, Jean-Pierre rumbled a silky aside. "You're playing a very dangerous game this evening, ma chérie." His hand anchored at the small of my back in clear possession.

I widened my eyes in mock innocence. "Am I?" I breathed, allowing my fingertips to trail along the carved musculature of his forearm.

His eyes darkened with naked appreciation, making me want to fan myself. "Enough to try even this debauched Frenchman's restraint, I'll admit...and it seems Monsieur Pemberton is under your spell too, ma belle" His suggestive look in Max's direction left no doubt, he was aware of my ploy, he saw it through and through.

"Well, what can I say. You caught me, red handed." I replied, mouth curving into a pleased smile, tossing the last of my drink. "That's precisely the idea, Monsieur Duvall."

Jean-Pierre threw his head back with a rich peal of laughter, clearly delighted by my brazen admission. "Ah, I see I've stumbled into something utterly delicious here." He eyed me speculatively. "For a moment, I'd dared hope, ma belle."

I let out a resigned sigh. "Is it that obvious?"

"Oui." A succinct nod. "But no worries, Mademoiselle. I'll play along, tout au nom de l'amour - in the name of love, as you would say." His roguish grin gave me a new appreciation for Jean-Pierre. This complete stranger had read my entire situation without many details, seeing what Max vehemently denied on a daily basis.

Jean-Pierre's eyes danced with mischief. "Tell me, ma chérie...what shall be my reward for these sultry services? After all, Maximilian will be most displeased with our newfound...friendship."

I felt a shiver of pure sin tingle along my nerves at the pure rogue promise in his tone. Leaning in until my breath fanned teasingly against his lips, I let the words tumble out. "Let's just say...I'm very good at expressing my gratitude."

Jean-Pierre made a low, strained sound of masculine restraint, the muscles going taut along his chiseled jaw as his eyes burned into mine. "Mer-veilleux...you diabolique temptress! I almost feel bad for Maximilian - you're a devious one!"

Pulling back with a secretive smile, I turned my attention to where Max was watching our heated tableau with barely repressed intensity. He looked utterly undone - molten desire and corded tension warring across those chiseled features, threatening to shatter his vaunted control into a thousand exquisite pieces.

Yes, he'd definitely taken the bait - and I had him precisely where I wanted him.

"I have an idea if you don't mind helping a damsel in distress," I asked innocently.

Jean-Pierre reached out and playfully toyed with a few tendrils of my hair. "I'm at your service, ma chérie."

With purposeful intent, I molded myself flush against his powerful form, gazing up at him through lowered lashes as I moistened my lips in blatant invitation. "Shall we take this...elsewhere? Somewhere more private?"

The Frenchman's eyes seared into me with naked, ravening masculine hunger, his breath escaping in a harsh burst. "You'll be the absolute ruin of me, coquine..." Still, he didn't hesitate. "Lead the way, ma belle."

I threw one last heated look over my shoulder toward Max before exiting the ballroom, feeling the searing weight of his stare branding between my shoulders like a promise.

We'd barely made it a dozen steps before the storm that was Max descended upon us in a whirlwind of masculine aggression. Emerald eyes blazing, powerful muscles ticking with barely restrained intensity, he appeared before us like an avenging force of nature.

His tone brooked no argument as he bit out two succinct words, the very sound obliterating the exquisite tension in one incendiary instant.

"You. Me."

I opened my mouth, but Max was already seizing my elbow in an uncompromising grip, hauling me flush against the scorching wall of his chest. He rounded on the bewildered Jean-Pierre with a look of such unmistakable virile ownership, the other man immediately backed off with his palms raised in surrender.

"My apologies, Monsieur Maximilian," He murmured, inclining his head in deferential acknowledgment while clearly suppressing a grin. "I had no idea the terrain was...quite so hazardous."

"Duvall," my boss growled in a voice of lancing sharpness that brooked no argument. "Why don't you make yourself useful and attend to the delegation of Italian investors who just arrived?"

A muscle feathered at Max's clenched jaw as his incendiary gaze swept over me with lingering, rapacious intensity. "Now!"

As Jean-Pierre made himself scarce with a conspiratorial wink, Max dragged me toward the nearest empty conference room like a man possessed. Once inside with the door firmly locked, he swung me around to face him fully, anchoring me in place with one large hand fisted in my hair.

Our bodies collided together in a searing brand of primal dominance, Max's tall, powerfully-built frame towering over me as I drowned in the banked emerald fire scorching from his eyes. He said nothing, merely staring down at me with a ferocious, smoldering promise that liquefied my insides.

"You've crossed a line, Charlotte" he finally growled, the low rasp laced with feral undertones that made me shiver. "Deliberately baiting me like some salacious harlot desperate for attention."

For perhaps the first time ever, I had utterly decimated the unshakable control Max Pemberton was so renowned for. The veneer of arrogant CEO had been seared away, leaving only an unmistakably virile, territorially-incensed alpha male in its wake.

I lifted my chin defiantly, refusing to be cowed as I met that blazing green gaze. "And if I did? It's not as if you've ever bothered giving any indication you want more than this constant game between us."

Max's nostrils flared, eyes glittering like shards of jade as he visibly wrestled with his restraint. When he finally spoke, it was a low, gravelly growl of sin that flooded me with molten want. "Don't tempt me, you wildcat. You've already pushed far too many boundaries tonight."

Hunger roared through my veins at the naked, reciprocal need in his words. Shamelessly, I arched into that unyielding frame, allowing my curves to mold against every virile plane and contour.

"Is that so?" I breathed against the thunderous pulse at his bared throat, allowing my lips to graze his heated skin in torturous tease. "Because from where I'm standing, you're the one who can't handle the blazing fire between us. Always hiding behind that frigid control like some untouchable marble statue."

A tortured groan rumbled from deep in Max's chest as his large palms found my hips, clenching with bone-melting possession. In a dizzying blur of movement, I was seated on the table, pinned immobile beneath his scorchingly dominant frame as we went nose-to-nose with the air practically crackling.

"You deliriously provoking minx..." Each clipped rasp caressed over me in a searing brand of dark, unleashed sin.

This time his growl carried a resonant edge of exquisite, rapacious demand that had me instantly growing slick with molten feminine need.

"You have no idea the appetites you toy with, you insolent siren."