“Thanks,” Benjamin said, smiling at the old man, who’d been there for him since the moment he’d taken his first breath. “Don’t wait up. It’ll be another late night.”
“Very well, sir.”
After the butler left, he straightened the table, picked up one of the plates, and made it halfway across the office before he froze. He had all this wine, and all this food. Why not invite her to eat with him? Sure, it might not be proper, from a boss-employee perspective, but no one would find out.
It wasn’t as if he was going to fuck her over his desk, no matter how much he might wish he could. And it was Friday night. It seemed such a damn shame to waste the bread and wine. Despite what everyone said, he wasn’t a beast, and he did like Maggie. He wasn’t heartless. He was motivated.
Back before his father had died, Benjamin had lived hard, partied harder, and laughed loudly. Now, he tried to pretend that version of him never existed, and he did his damnedest to be the man he should have been back then. Sometimes it felt as if that younger Benjamin had died, leaving a stranger in his place.
A man that he didn’t even like. A man no one liked.
Yet Maggie had still defended him. She had a pure heart. A kind nature. And he wanted to repay that kindness. It wasn’t going to redeem him or make him a good man, but damn it, it was something. She deserved a hot, fresh meal. End of story.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he walked to his office door, took a deep breath, and opened it. Sure enough, she still sat there, working diligently.
Like usual.
Her small foot tapped against the front of her desk, and she hummed a tune under her breath. She wore a pair of square, black glasses, her hair was frazzled, and she nibbled on her pen with that red mouth of hers, which had starred in way too many of his fantasies. The dark sky behind her was lit up by buildings and streetlights.
But she was the thing that really shone.
His heart quickened ridiculously, and he took a deep breath as his pants grew uncomfortably tight. She truly had a beauty that was incomparable and indescribable. He shifted his weight and cleared his throat, forcing his face to take on the stoic mask he wore around his employees—hell, around everyone. “Ms. Donovan?”
She glanced up, jumped, and dropped the pen on her desk. As she rose to her feet unsteadily, he fought back a smile. She always acted surprised when he actually acknowledged her, or dared to exit his office, as if she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone, or that he even existed. It was endearing, and tonight wasn’t any exception.
“Sir?” she asked. “I’m still working on—”
“I know.” He glanced down at her disheveled desk. All her personal items were scattered about the top of it, and her pens weren’t in any sort of color-coded order at all. It made his fingers itch to straighten it up for her, but he stood still. It wasn’t his job to make her desk organized. “I was wondering if you were hungry?”
She darted a glance to the door, then back at him. “I packed dinner. I just haven’t gotten around to heating it up yet.”
“Oh. Well, my dinner plans were canceled last minute.” He pointed over his shoulder. “If you’d rather, I have fresh eggplant parmesan and wine, and it’s still hot—if that’s agreeable to you.”
“Agreeable?”
Again, the urge to smile hit him. He didn’t. “Dinner. With me.”
“Umm…” Blinking, she tucked her hair behind her ear, took it out, and tucked it in again. He’d obviously made her nervous. “Let me get this straight. You’re inviting me to dinner? With you? Alone?”
He raised a brow. “I just said that, didn’t I?”
“Uh.” She stepped around her desk, clasping her hands in front of her nervously. “Yeah, I guess so. Are you sure? I mean, you’re the boss and—”
“You’re a great employee. I thought you might like to eat dinner.” He tugged on his tie. “That’s all, Maggie.”
She choked on a laugh at his use of her first name. Whenever she got nervous, she laughed. Yet another thing he found adorable about her. “I mean, yeah, I like food.”
His lips quirked. “Good.”
“Yeah.” She smiled at him. “Uh, good.”
He crossed his arms and watched her through his lowered lids. Her white button-up shirt strained over her generous breasts, and her black pencil skirt hugged the curve of her hips. It was prim and proper office attire, and yet she somehow managed to make it look drop-dead-sexy without even trying. It was fucking ridiculous. “If it makes you uncomfortable, please don’t hesitate to say no. I won’t be insulted.”
“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all,” she said softly, her head tilted. He loved how she stared him straight in the eye and didn’t cower away from him like the rest of the staff, and how the smile never faded from her lips. “I just didn’t want to create the wrong impression, is all. I mean, we’re alone, and if we’re eating, if might look like a…well, you know.”