A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss novel Chapter 343

Madison

She led me to a cozy corner table partially secluded by a decorative wine rack. It was perfect for conversation without shouting over the dinner crowd.

I settled in, declining a glass of wine until Jackson arrived. While waiting, I checked my phone, a habit I couldn’t seem to break. No messages from Alexander. Not that I expected any. Our workday had ended without incident, just the usual professional exchanges about the Riverside property we’d be visiting tomorrow.

I set my phone face–down on the table, forcing myself to break the habit of checking for messages from Alexander. The waitress approached and offered me another glass of water.

“Still waiting?” she asked sympathetically.

“Yes, he should be here any minute,” I replied, checking my watch. Jackson was now twelve minutes late. Maybe this dinner had been a mistake after all.

I drummed my fingers against the table, contemplating whether to call him or just order an appetizer. After another few minutes of waiting, I reached for my phone to call when Jackson burst through the restaurant door, looking flushed and slightly disheveled.

He spotted me immediately and hurried over, weaving between tables.

“Madison, I’m so sorry!” He pulled out the chair across from me, dropping into it with an apologetic grimace. ” Traffic was a nightmare. Some accident on Fifth Avenue had everything backed up for blocks. I ended up jumping out of the cab and walking the last few streets.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his frazzled appearance. His hair was windblown, and he’d clearly been rushing.

“It’s fine. I haven’t been here long,” I lied, not wanting to make him feel worse.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said, grinning. “Your water glass is almost empty, and there are torn napkin pieces all over your side of the table.”

I glanced down at the pile of shredded napkin I’d unconsciously created while waiting. “Busted.”

The waitress returned, this time with menus. “Ready to order drinks?”

“I’ll have a glass of the house red,” Jackson said, then looked at me. “Madison?”

“Same for me, please.”

After she left, Jackson leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I really am sorry for being late. I was afraid you’d give up and leave.”

“I considered it,” I admitted with a small smile. “But I was hungry, and they make great tiramisu here.”

“So you stayed for the dessert, not my charming company?” He clutched his chest in mock offense. “I’m wounded.”

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“The tiramisu is very compelling.”

“Well, I’ll have to be more compelling than an Italian dessert. Challenge accepted.”

Our wine arrived, and we clinked glasses before turning our attention to the menus. The restaurant’s soft lighting and intimate atmosphere made it feel more date–like than I’d intended, but Jackson’s easy manner kept things comfortable.

“What’s good here?” he asked, scanning the menu.

“Everything. The homemade pasta is incredible, especially the pappardelle with wild boar ragu.”

“Sold. I trust your judgment.‘

When the waitress returned, we both ordered pasta dishes: the pappardelle for Jackson and mushroom ravioli for me.

“So,” Jackson said after she left, “project manager at Knight Industries. That’s impressive, Madison.”

I waved off the compliment. “It’s just a lot of spreadsheets and making sure deadlines are met.”

“Don’t downplay it. Large companies like Knight Industries don’t just hand out promotions for showing up.” He took a sip of wine. “You must be killing it.”

“It’s challenging,” I admitted. “But I enjoy the work.”

“And you’re still handling personal assistant duties too? That’s a lot for one person.”

I shrugged. “I like staying busy.”

“Clearly.” Jackson smiled. “I remember you in college, always doing multiple things at once.”

“Some things never change.”

“What about your mom?” he asked. “How’s she doing? I remember you mentioned she was having some health issues.”

I hesitated, not wanting to get into the complicated details of my mother’s treatment or how it was being paid

for.

“She’s improving,” I said simply. “The doctors are optimistic.”

“That’s great to hear. I’m sure it’s been stressful for you.”

“It has been. But we’re managing.”

“And you’re handling your mom’s care, a promotion, and still working as Knight’s PA?” Jackson whistled low.” Madison Harper, overachiever extraordinaire.”

“Says the guy who worked three jobs in London to pay off his loans.”

“Touché.” He raised his glass in acknowledgment. “I guess we’re both gluttons for punishment.”

Our food arrived, steaming and aromatic. I took a bite of my ravioli, savoring the rich mushroom filling

“Oh my god,” Jackson groaned after tasting his pasta. “You weren’t kidding. This is incredible.”

“Told you.” I smiled, taking another bite. “Worth being a few minutes late for.”

“So about that,” Jackson said, twirling pasta around his fork. “I was surprised when you called about dinner. I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

“Why’s that?”

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