A few weeks had passed since I started working closely with Max and Jean-Pierre on landing the make-or-break Sakura deal. Tensions were running high in the conference room as projections and paperwork littered the table between us.

"If we restructure ze payment allocation like zis," Jean-Pierre's smooth accent purred directly into my ear. He was leaning over from the chair beside me, his arm brushing against mine as the back of his hand grazed my bare skin. Subtle, but I caught the suggestive undertone loud and clear.

Max, seated across the table, definitely caught it too if the way his jaw instantly clenched was any indication. A muscle ticked in that chiseled edge as he abruptly stood and snatched the folder from in front of Jean-Pierre and me.

"That allocation won't be necessary," he clipped out, sliding the paperwork away from us in a possessive move. "We're operating at optimal efficiency already."

I arched one perfectly sculpted brow at his abrupt tone, shooting him a skeptical look. But Jean-Pierre just mirrored the expression, completely unruffled as he angled his body a fraction closer to mine in his chair.

"Ah, but you haven't considered ze supplemental benefits package, non?" That devilish half-smile played across lips that really shouldn't be legal. "I was zinking we could entice zem by—"

"That won't be necessary." Max's growl cut across Jean-Pierre's words as he suddenly loomed over us both, having crossed to the vacant chair on my other side. His broad shoulders were hunched with an aggressive territoriality I found simultaneously laughable and ridiculously arousing.

I bit back a smirk, settling deeper into my chair as the two alpha males faced off over me. Funny how Max always tried to overcompensate with cold professionalism whenever we were alone. But throw Jean-Pierre into the mix and those tightly leashed emotions emerged in spades.

"Of course, Mr. Pemberton," I agreed easily, plucking a fresh legal pad towards me. "Happy to let you take the reins."

Jean-Pierre's eyes danced with silent innuendo, but Max just cleared his throat gruffly. This little game of theirs—two possessive alphas vying for my attentions through subtle intimidation and grandstanding—was rapidly becoming one of my favorite pastimes.

Later, after Jean-Pierre departed for the evening, Max fell back into his usual reserved demeanor as we continued reviewing proposals. Sitting ramrod straight in his chair, he discussed numbers and logistics with robotic efficiency, never veering even a millimeter too close to the line of impropriety.

It was maddening how he could simply shut off any hint of the heated chemistry still crackling between us with a disciplined flick of some internal switch. One moment, he'd be glaring daggers at Jean-Pierre's hands mere inches from my skin. The next, I may as well have been a piece of furniture for all the personal regard he showed me.

"If we streamline the procurement process through Kato's distribution company, we could shave 3.2% off operational expenses," Max droned, eyes glued to the projections as his fingers danced over the laptop with clinical detachment.

I could have been a damn hologram for all he seemed to register my actual presence across the table. Exhaling a slow, frustrated breath, I decided to see just how much of a rise I could get out of him.

"You know Max," I began, purposely dropping my voice into a lower, huskier register. "Jean-Pierre mentioned something intriguing about those supplemental benefit packages earlier..."

His fingers stilled fractionally on the keyboard, the only sign he'd even heard me. I took it as a silent cue to continue pushing.

"Something about finding creative ways to...incentivize our potential clients?" I made sure to add a teasing lilt to the final words, allowing the innuendo to suffuse every syllable.

Max's jaw worked silently as he visibly clamped down on whatever response was no doubt roiling behind that rigidly professional veneer. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he met my gaze head-on—and I knew I had him.

"I'm sure whatever Mr. Duvall proposed was merely theoretical grandstanding," he bit out, just a fraction too tightly to be fully convincing. "We'll achieve the Sakura acquisition through legitimate, ethical means as we always do. End of discussion."

But his eyes... Those emerald depths were smoldering with an intensity that threatened to set me aflame from across the damned table.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Pemberton," I murmured agreeably, smothering a grin as I refocused on the paperwork in front of me.

Heaven knew I'd be testing the bounds of that professionally detached demeanor more often from here on out.

After that the rest of the evening passed in a hectic blur of paperwork and reports. But no matter how deeply I tried to immerse myself in the work, my mind kept drifting back to Max's hot and cold demeanor. It was impossible to ignore, just as impossible as ignoring the blistering sexual tension still crackling between us.

Just the memory of him looming possessively over me, body taut with an aggression equal parts threatening and arousing, had me squirming subtly in my desk chair. I could practically feel the scorching weight of his stare singeing a molten trail over my skin, branding me with those emerald embers...

His reaction at the meeting spoke volumes about the possessive mindset still raging within him regarding me.

The next morning, Max left on another business trip, off to negotiate a high-stakes deal in Tokyo. He'd be gone for a week or so, leaving a palpable void in the office and in my thoughts, tangled up in knots of frustration and longing.

His increasing absence and the minimal communication we had left me aching for him more than ever. Jean-Pierre's relentless charm and flirtation were no substitute for the man who truly occupied my thoughts and desires.

A trill from my phone startled me abruptly out of those wandering thoughts. Grabbing the device, I felt a tiny thrill at the glowing display.

'Drinks tonight, ma chérie? My treat - I insist on collecting your debt.'

I tried to smother the grin tugging at my lips as I typed out a response.

'You're persistent, aren't you? Fine. But only because I can't resist free drinks. 7 PM?'

As I hit send, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty coiled within me. Jean-Pierre might be a charming diversion, a temporary escape from the emptiness left by Max's absence. A night out with him offered a way to distract myself from the ache of missing Max and to enjoy a bit of harmless fun. It wasn't about Jean-Pierre, really. It was about filling the void left by the man who remained tantalizingly just out of reach.