Camilla smoothed the creases of her skirt for the fifth time, silently cursing herself for agreeing to come. The restaurant was upscale—soft jazz floated through the air, and the smell of truffle oil lingered like expensive perfume. She felt out of place, even in her best heels.
Dominic Blake, on the other hand, looked like he belonged to the marble floors and velvet booths. He sat across from her, cool and unreadable as ever, sipping a glass of red wine like he was born holding it.
"You're quiet," he said, finally breaking the silence between them.
"I'm observing," Camilla replied. "You can learn a lot from how people choose to eat."
He tilted his head, amused. "And what have you learned about me so far?"
She smiled slightly. "You like control. Even in chaos. You'd rather starve than eat something you didn't choose. And you drink wine to soften your sharp edges."
Dominic gave a low chuckle. "And you—what do I learn from your granola bar lunches?"
"That I'm practical," she said. "And not afraid to get my hands dirty."
His gaze lingered on her. "You intrigue me."
Camilla's pulse jumped. She masked it with a sip of her water. "Do you say that to all your assistants?"
"I've never had an assistant like you."
She leaned forward. "Careful. That sounds dangerously close to a compliment."
He smirked, but his eyes were serious. "Maybe it is."
A Shift in Power
Dinner was more enjoyable than Camilla anticipated. They talked about work, but somewhere between the risotto and the espresso, the conversation shifted.
"I've never seen someone push back on me the way you do," Dominic admitted.
Camilla arched an eyebrow. "You mean you don't enjoy being challenged?"
"I enjoy being understood," he said. "But I rarely am."
His vulnerability caught her off guard.
"Try being a woman in a boardroom full of men named Charles and Robert," she replied.
He laughed softly. "Fair point."
As they left the restaurant, the valet brought around Dominic's sleek black car. He opened the door for her. She hesitated.
"I don't usually ride with my boss."
"I'm not your usual boss."
That much was clear.
She slid into the passenger seat, the leather interior cool against her skin. Dominic got in beside her and started the engine. As they drove through the city, Camilla stared out the window, her thoughts buzzing louder than the radio.
"What made you choose this career?" he asked suddenly.
Camilla glanced at him. "Why do you assume I chose it?"
"Didn't you?"
"I chose survival," she said. "And this job was my best shot."
He nodded, eyes on the road. "You're good at surviving."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It's not. But maybe you deserve more than just surviving."
The words sank into her chest like stones.
Office Whispers
The next morning, Camilla walked into the office to find people whispering.
"Did you see them leave together last night?"
"He never takes assistants to investor dinners."
"I heard she sat in on the negotiation herself!"
Camilla ignored the looks. She'd never cared much about office gossip, but she could feel it crawling under her skin now.
She entered Dominic's office without knocking.
"You could've warned me."
He looked up. "About what?"
"The looks. The rumors. The whispers."
"I don't care what they say."
"Well, I do."
His eyes narrowed. "You're not ashamed of dinner, are you?"
"I'm not ashamed of anything I do," she snapped. "But I didn't sign up to be a distraction."
Silence fell between them.
Then Dominic stood, walking toward her.
"You're not a distraction," he said, voice low. "You're the only person who makes me think clearly."
Camilla's breath caught.
"I can't afford distractions," he added, "but I can't ignore you either."
She swallowed hard, her heart pounding.
"Then what are we doing?" she asked.
He looked at her like he was searching for something—permission, maybe.
"We're navigating a line," he said. "And I don't know what happens if we cross it."
Camilla stepped back. "Then maybe we shouldn't."
She turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her before he could see how her hands shook.
The Proposal
By Friday, things between them had returned to functional. Camilla maintained her professional tone. Dominic focused on work. Neither brought up the dinner.
But during a late evening meeting with the finance team, Dominic interrupted a conversation about mergers with a casual announcement.
"I want Camilla to sit in on the quarterly review next week. Full access."
Heads turned. Camilla blinked.
"Sir?" one executive questioned. "That's not standard procedure."
"It is now," Dominic said, without flinching. "Camilla's more in tune with company morale than anyone in this room."
Camilla sat frozen as the room slowly nodded in compliance.
After the meeting, she confronted him in his office.
"You blindsided me."
"I promoted you," he replied, unbothered.
"I'm not ready—"
"Yes, you are."
She searched his face. "Why now?"
"Because I trust you. And because I need someone by my side who challenges me."
She looked down. "And if the board pushes back?"
"Let me worry about them."
"Dominic—"
He moved closer, not touching her, but near enough that her breath hitched.
"Let me worry about everything but you," he said.
And in that moment, the line between them blurred even more.