Seduced By My Billionaire Boss (The Billionaire Boss Series, #1) by Sierra Rose Page A

stemware. The champagne provided a well-needed relief, and within a minute, we’d both finished our first glass. He was quick to pour us another, and we got to work on those.
    “So,” I said eventually, “do you own this place too? It has the same soundtrack.”
    Faint strains of Christmas music were tinkling down from speakers overhead. He glanced up as a band struck up with ‘Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire,’ noticing it for the first time.
    “Does it bother you?” he asked suddenly.
    I looked up quickly, not entirely hiding my surprise. “No...of course not.”
    It wasn’t exactly true. I hated Christmas. In fact, I hated everything to do with the holiday. But it wasn’t something that ever came up in conversation, and I truly didn’t think anyone had ever noticed before.
    “You’re lying.” His eyes sparkled as he leaned across the table. “I saw it at the coffee shop as well. Tell me why.”
    “I’m not,” I insisted. I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation. But he raised his eyebrows and stayed right where he was. After a second or two, I relented. “Christmas isn’t exactly my thing.”
    “Isn’t exactly your thing?” he quoted. “Who doesn’t like Christmas?”
    I smiled and took a sip of my champagne. “You’re looking at her.”
    “Well, there has to be a story behind that,” he cocked his head curiously, “care to tell me why?”
    The champagne was working on the both of us, calming our nerves and breaking down barriers where they normally would have stood.
    With a small sigh, I leaned back in my chair, bringing the glass once to my lips before saying, “It’s a pretty classic tale of holiday abandonment. My dad left on Christmas when I was four. My mother never celebrated after that. The foods, trees, carols...everything set her off.” I smiled wryly. “I guess it sets me off now too.”
    Of course, there was a lot more to the story. There was the Christmas when I found my mother choking to death on a mouthful of pills. The Christmas when I spent the night in the ER and the next day making funeral arrangements.
    But no need to go into all of that now. It was far too heavy for a fake work dinner.
    Before Tom had a chance to say anything, a pair of waiters came up and brought us two platters of pasta and bread. After running my legs into the ground, carbs were just what I craved.
    We dug in, the conversation momentarily forgotten, as we replenished ourselves. When we finally came up for air, Tom laughed and poured us still another glass of champagne. “I don’t usually go for pasta, but you see, I had a particularly grueling day on the treadmill.”
    I laughed and took a large mouthful of bread. “I’m right there with you.”
    He leaned back in his chair and studied me with a thoughtful expression. “So you really don’t like Christmas. You’re not just one of those people who says they don’t to get extra attention and gifts?”
    I chuckled and shook my head. “No, but you have to respect those people for ambition.”
    He was quiet for a while, thinking, and I finally cocked my head with a grin.
    “Let me guess, you just love Christmas. You love everything about it.”
    He threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoed off the marble heaters before losing itself in the chilly night. “I do love Christmas. I love everything about it. Furthermore, I feel the profound need to change your mind about the whole thing.”
    I smiled and took another sip of bubbly. “Oh, so you’re one of those. The ‘protectors.’ You’re going to save me from myself.”
    “Absolutely,” he said seriously. “I’m just going to need...a little more champagne.”
    We laughed again and settled back for a rather delightful meal. Not once did we talk about work. Not once did we mention the merger. We only talked about each other, asking random questions and probing little details that most people would never have thought to ask.
    It wasn’t long before dessert came and