By Wednesday, the fervor around Pemberton Financial's supposed office romance reached a fever pitch - and I found myself at the utterly insane eye of the storm.

Amidst the chaos, I couldn't help but feel a pang of relief that my only remaining family member, my father, was blissfully unaware of the scandal unfolding around me. His Alzheimer's meant he was spared from witnessing the spectacle of his daughter embroiled in such public humiliation. It was a small mercy I was grateful for.

Roaming packs of paparazzi now staked out the lobby entrance, snapping away furiously anytime Max or I entered or exited the building. One particularly aggressive photographer even flung himself onto the hood of Max's town car, bellowing questions about our "sordid love affair" until security hauled him away.

Within the office, I endured a gauntlet of whispers, giggles, and unsubtle gawking from the moment I arrived until I beat a hasty retreat in the evenings. Other assistants and junior employees wouldn't meet my gaze, buzzing with rumors about how I'd allegedly "landed the biggest catch in Manhattan."

Even clients were getting in on the action. During an important conference call, one etiquette-defying broker couldn't resist chiming in with "Say, Pemberton, does your pretty little assistant provide...other services too? If so, I'd love to retain her!"

An oppressive silence fell over the call before Max's voice sliced through like a whipcrack.

"Mr. Jennings, unless you want me exploring alternative asset managers today, I suggest you show some professionalism," he ground out in that lethal tone.

The broker mumbled an apology and the call mercifully ended not long after, but I spent the rest of the meeting frantically fanning my flaming cheeks, but not before I caught Max's eyes briefly meeting mine - a glimmer of something indecipherable flickering in their depths. Sympathy? No, surely not from my implacable tormentor.

Speaking of whom, Max TortureMaster™ seemed to derive endless amusement from my escalating torment over the sensationalized gossip. He began summoning me to his office over trivial matters, no doubt hoping to goad me into another public display.

"It would seem the office gossip has reached...feverish proportions, Ms. Bennett," he mocked one afternoon, hazel eyes glittering with undisguised glee. "One could almost pity you for having to endure such relentless...speculation about our relationship."

I clenched my fists surreptitiously to keep from lunging across his desk and strangling him. "Yes, well, it's certainly been...draining having to repeatedly dissuade everyone from their ridiculous notions."

One dark brow inched upward as he regarded me silently for a long moment. "Have you dissuaded them? How interesting. Your recent...antics suggest otherwise. The singing telegram delivery man? The flock of doves released in the lobby?"

My face flamed hot at the reminder of those cringeworthy stunts. Max's mouth curved with undisguised satisfaction. I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a lazy hand.

"No need to explain, Ms. Bennett. Your actions speak louder than words. Besides, I'm quite enjoying having a front row seat for this...performance." His gaze drifted pointedly down to my lips before sweeping back up in a scorching caress. "I look forward to the next stop on your apology tour."

The husky timbre of his voice raised goosebumps along my arms. Was it my imagination, or did those words carry a lick of something dangerously akin to flirtation?

I cleared my throat to dispel the notion of the ridiculous fantasy. This was Max - manwhore extraordinaire maybe, but certainly not flirting with his lowly assistant. And yet a tiny part of me wanted it to be...

By Friday, I was wound tighter than a spiral-bound notebook, I was exhausted and mortified, my cheeks permanently stained red from the relentless comments and spectacle surrounding us.

Enough was enough. In a last-ditch effort to retain my sanity, I decided a fitting grand gesture was in order for my first fake date with my tormentor - something appropriately audacious to finally wipe that insufferable smirk off his face.

And I had just the thing in mind.

I marched into the office armed with a boombox blaring Taylor Swift's "Lover". As soon as Max stepped off the elevator, I cranked the volume and did an awkward sway-dance in front of him, lip-syncing dramatically.

Max's eyes widened in surprise before narrowing into a glare. "What is the meaning of this, Ms. Bennett?"

Finishing the last few lines, I hit stop and grinned up at him innocently. "Just establishing the proper mood for our date tonight, Mr. Pemberton."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "If this is your idea of romantic wooing, then you are not romance novel material."

"Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet, boss man." I winked exaggeratedly. "This is just a preview of what's to come."

His jaw ticked, but I caught the subtle quirk of his lips, like he was fighting back amusement. Game on.

By lunch, a quartet sang praises, holding a banner that read "BE MINE MAXI POO," as he strode by. I swear his eye twitched, but he didn't break stride.

In the afternoon, I arranged for half a dozen baby pugs dressed as cupids to be delivered to his office as a "pre-date gift." His usual stoic expression faltered for just a fraction of a second as he took in the adorable sight of the pugs waddling into his office, their tiny wings fluttering with each step.

Until a couple of the puppies did their needs over his luxurious carpet, earning me a loud and very much angry "Bennett, clean up this mess immediately and return those puppies where they belong!" Max's icy tone sliced through the air, his patience visibly wearing thin as he glared at me, his earlier amusement replaced by irritation.

I scrambled to gather the mischievous pugs, inwardly cursing my ill-conceived attempt at lightening the mood. "Right away, Mr. Pemberton," I replied, my voice tight with embarrassment as I hurried to rectify the situation before it escalated further.

Finally, at closing time, the familiar opening piano riffs of "I'll Make Love to You" by Boyz II Men filled the hallway as Max stepped off the elevator. I sidled up to him, cueing up the lyrics on my phone and holding it with a trembling hand as I lip-synced the closing verses while wearing sash that read "💘Maxi Poo + Charlotte💝" .

"And I'll hooold youuu tight. Baby all through the night."

Max's stride stuttered ever so slightly as he registered my new stunt. I trailed behind him, undulating my hips dramatically in time with the rhythm.

By the time we reached his office, bemused stares followed our impromptu musical convoy. Max whirled on me, chest heaving slightly as he struggled to keep his famous icy demeanor intact.

"You cannot be serious," he growled lowly.

The delicious rumble of his voice vibrating through me. With tremendous effort, I resisted laughing at his reaction, I enjoyed seeing him bothered by little old me.

"W-why wouldn't I be serious?" I managed in a credible imitation of a lovesick swoon as the song continued crooning. I placed one hand over my heart, feigning overpowering ardor. "When it comes to seducing the man who's captured my heart's deepest desires, I'll use every instrument of seduction in my arsenal."

A muscle ticked in Max's taut jaw. He opened his mouth, closed it, then suddenly seized my bicep and frog-marched me into his office, away from prying eyes. His grip was excruciatingly gentle yet firm as iron, raising tingles wherever his fingers brushed my bare skin.

The boombox clattered to the floor as Max backed me against the heavy wooden door, effectively caging me with his powerful frame. Something electric and forbidden crackled between us in the sudden charged silence.

"You're playing a very dangerous game, Charlotte, " he murmured in that low, velvet rasp that had me struggling to keep my composure. Those emerald eyes bore into mine with scorching intensity.

I refused to squirm like a scolded child under that penetrating gaze. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mr. Pemberton."

Although I couldn't quite decipher the molten look flickering in those emerald depths, but it sent a reckless tremor ricocheting through my bones all the same. "You've made your point. I expect you'll be properly prepared for our...date tonight?"

I widened my eyes innocently. "Absolutely sir!"

"And get rid of that sash!" He said as he walk to the desk.

"Right away sir" I finished with an exaggerated curtsy that earned me an eye roll.