A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss novel Chapter 180

Chapter 180

Madison

Jenna handed him back his credit card with a smile. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?

Alexander glanced at his watch. “No, that will be all. Thank you for your assistance.”

As we left the store, I felt excitement and guilt. The clothes were beautiful, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was taking advantage of Alexander’s generosity.

“Stop overthinking,” he said as we walked back to where the car was parked. “I can hear the gears turning in your head from here.”

“I’m not overthinking,” I protested. “I’m just… processing.”

“Processing what? That you now have a wardrobe befitting your position?”

I sighed. “It’s just a lot of money, Mr. Knight.”

“Money I can easily afford,” he reminded me.

We reached his car, and he opened the passenger door for me. As I slid into the seat, his hand brushed against my lower back, a touch so light it could have been accidental if not for the heat in his

eyes.

Once he was in the driver’s seat, he turned to me before starting the engine. “Hungry?”

“Starving, actually,” I admitted. “Shopping is apparently exhausting.”

“I know just the place.”

He drove us through the city with the casual confidence of someone who owned every street we passed. We pulled up to a sleek building with no obvious signage, just a discreet gold plaque reading ” Lumière.”

“What is this place?” I asked as the valet opened my door.

“One of the city’s best–kept secrets,” Alexander replied, placing his hand on my lower back as we approached the entrance. “The chef is a friend.”

The maître d‘ greeted Alexander with the deference reserved for royalty. “Mr. Knight, wonderful to see you again. Your usual space is ready.”

We bypassed the main dining area and were led through a series of corridors to a private glass- enclosed terrace overlooking the city. The space contained just one table surrounded by lush

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greenery and soft lighting that made everything glow.

“This isn’t a table,” I whispered as the maître d‘ pulled out my chair. “This is someone’s fantasy.”

Alexander chuckled. “I thought you might appreciate the privacy.”

Once we were alone, I took in the breathtaking view of the Manhattan skyline. “How do you even get a reservation for something like this?”

“You don’t,” he said simply. “Unless you know the right people.”

“Or unless you are the right people,” I countered.

His eyes sparkled with amusement. “That helps too.”

A waiter appeared with two glasses of champagne. “Compliments of Chef Marcel,” he announced, setting them before us.

I took a sip and nearly moaned at the taste. “This is incredible.”

The waiter returned with our first course. “Chef’s special amuse–bouche,” he explained. “Seared scallop with caviar and yuzu foam.”

After he left, Alexander leaned forward. “Try it,” he urged. “Marcel’s foam technique is unparalleled.

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I took a bite and couldn’t help the small sound of pleasure that escaped me. “Oh my god.”

Alexander watched me with undisguised hunger that had nothing to do with food. “I love watching you enjoy things, Madison.”

Heat crawled up my neck. “The food is amazing.”

“I wasn’t talking about the food.”

I took another sip of champagne to hide my blush. “So, tell me about Chef Marcel. How did you meet him?”

“We went to school together. He was always smuggling ingredients into the dorms to experiment with recipes. Nearly got expelled when he set off the fire alarms, making crème brûlée at 2 AM.”

I laughed, picturing a younger Alexander involved in kitchen mischief. “And now he has one of the most exclusive restaurants in Manhattan.”

“He always knew what he wanted,” Alexander said. “I respect that in a person.”

Our conversation flowed easily through the next few courses. Alexander told me stories about his travels, and I shared anecdotes from my college days. With each glass of wine, I felt myself relaxing

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more in his presence.

The waiter appeared to clear our plates, breaking the moment. “Would you care for dessert?”

“Yes,” Alexander answered for both of us. “The chocolate soufflé and the berry pavlova. And two espressos.”

After the waiter left, Alexander’s gaze turned mischievous. “You’ll love the soufflé. It’s sinfully good.

“You seem very confident about what I’ll enjoy,” I remarked.

“I’m a quick study,” he replied. “I pay attention to what makes you…” he paused deliberately, “.. satisfied.”

…

The desserts arrived, saving me from having to respond with my suddenly dry mouth. The chocolate soufflé was indeed divine, rich and decadent with a molten center that oozed when I broke through the top with my spoon.

“Good?” Alexander asked, watching me intently.

“Mmm,” I nodded, taking another bite.

“The way you close your eyes when you taste something you enjoy,” he observed, his voice low. “It reminds me of other expressions I’ve seen on your face.”

I nearly choked on my soufflé. “Mr. Knight!”

“What?” he asked innocently. “I’m simply making an observation.‘

“A highly inappropriate one,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help smiling.

“I’ve seen you enjoy many things, Madison,” he continued, undeterred. “But I think I enjoy watching you come undone the most.”

I set down my spoon, feeling heat pool in my belly. “We’re in public.”

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