Maxine Mason paused, turning Braxton Payne’s repeated use of "every time" over in her head. It clicked. He was offering her a raise. Braxton waited for her answer, one eye squinted slightly. "Still not happy?"

"No," Maxine blurted before she thought twice. Then, after a beat of hesitation, she asked, "Mr. Payne, do you honestly think I’ve been pushing this hard just for more money?" She’d hoped he’d see the fire in her, but all it boiled down to for him was a cash grab.

Braxton tilted his head and said nothing. His silence said everything. At least the money’s here, Maxine told herself.

Ten minutes later, Maxine finished her assignments and headed back to her desk. She sorted her papers, then dropped her bombshell of a request: "My father, Jake Mason, is threatening to sell my mom to pay off his gambling debts. I need a million dollars by eight tonight."

Braxton, who’d been flipping through a contract, froze mid-page. He smirked. "Your old man’s got some real nerve, huh? Last time it was a hundred grand. Now it’s a million?"

Maxine’s shame and guilt coiled tight in her chest despite his jab, her eyes glued to the surface of his desk. Braxton didn’t even bat an eye. He scribbled the amount out on a check and slid it across to her. "Count it as an advance on your year-end bonus."

Maxine stared at the check but didn’t reach for it. Her voice came out soft, steady. "I need you to warn Jake Mason. He’s gone too far this time, using my mom against me."

She held Braxton’s stare, unflinching. "I know I can’t cut him loose for good right now, but I want him to feel pain. A little of it."

Braxton’s surprise melted into approval. He nodded. "And what do I get out of this?"

He already knew her only leverage was herself. Maxine turned, locked the office door, and walked right back to him. She slipped her clothes off one by one until she was standing naked in front of him.

"I picked up some new tricks lately, Mr. Payne. You interested?"

Braxton spread his legs, his eyes blazing with hunger. "I’m all yours."

Three hours later, a worn-out Maxine pulled her clothes back on and checked the clock, a gentle reminder. "It’s time to get moving, Mr. Payne."

No one ever questioned Braxton’s connections. One nod from him was all it took to get the wheels turning. As eight o’clock ticked closer, he slowly packed up his things, slipped on his coat, and called to her: "Let’s go."

Maxine’s anxiety climbed with every tick of the clock, but when he stood to leave, she hesitated. "I can go alone."

"I’ll drive," he said—no room to argue.

To her shock, Braxton got behind the wheel himself. Maxine sat rigid in the passenger seat, unused to this sudden softness from him. Was this just the afterglow of what they’d done that afternoon?

She was still lost in thought when they pulled up to the casino. The whole place blazed with neon, the roar of the crowd growing louder the closer they got. The security guard moved to frisk them, but Braxton’s voice dropped low, cutting him off. "You really need to check my people?"

"Mr. Payne! Welcome, sir," the guard’s whole demeanor flipped instantly, and he ushered them inside with a bow.

Maxine’s eyebrows shot up—how was he so at home here? A regular? He rarely came around, but everyone knew him. Sensing her curiosity, Braxton leaned in as they wove through the crowd, his breath warm against her ear. "I’m a shareholder here."

This wasn’t Jake Mason’s first time gambling here, which meant Braxton had known who he was all along. He’d never said a word. A cold chill crept up Maxine’s spine. For the first time, she understood just how little she mattered to him.

"Well, look who it is! Brought Mr. Payne to pay my tab, didn’t you? My girl knows how to make an entrance," Jake Mason slurred, half-drunk at the bar, yelling loud enough for the whole room to hear. "See this? My daughter, Mr. Payne’s mistress. You all better remember that."

The onlookers swapped glances, their interest perked right up.

"Ow—"

A sharp scream cut through the noise. Jake clutched his rapidly swelling cheek, already reaching to hit back, but a wall of Braxton’s guys blocked him. Three massive enforcers moved in fast, their moves so sharp the crowd scattered to get out of their way.

Jake ducked and roared, "You little brat, make them stop! Don’t you wanna know where your mom is?"

Maxine’s brow furrowed so deep it ached. Years of hurt and rage boiled up, clouding her judgement. She forced herself to breathe through it, and over the sick crunch of fists hitting flesh, she ordered, "Stop."

The men looked to Braxton. He nodded, letting them know Maxine was in charge now.

Jake’s face lit up with triumph, thinking his little threat worked. "I knew you cared about your mom—"

*Smack—*

A stinging slap cut him off. Maxine had hit him with every ounce of strength she had, and her right hand shook uncontrollably. She glared right through him. "Where is my mom?"

"You little brat, how dare you hit me! You’ll never see her again!" Jake sneered.

*Smack—*

The second slap landed just as hard. Jake clutched his face, stunned. His quiet, doormat daughter was standing up to him. His voice shook. "You… you…"

"Where is she?" Maxine snapped, rage pushing her right to the edge.

Jake still tried to play hardball. Maxine grabbed a wine glass off the nearest table, smashed it against the edge, and pressed the jagged broken rim right to his throat. She spoke slow, clear, cold. "Where. Is. My. Mom?"

"You don’t got the guts to kill me. All these people saw you—even if you try, you’ll never get away with this!" Jake barked, emboldened by the split second she hesitated.

"Mr. Payne?" The casino guards edged closer, asking for his call.

Braxton watched, thoroughly entertained. He’d never seen this side of Maxine before. If he’d known it’d be this fun, he’d have pushed Jake over the edge a long time ago.

Maxine’s eyes turned red. She tightened her grip, pressing the glass shard deeper until blood trickled down Jake’s neck. She pushed harder, snarling, "Are you gonna talk now?"

Jake finally realized he wasn’t bluffing. He spun to beg Braxton. "She’s your secretary! If she kills me, Payne Corp gets dragged into a huge lawsuit. You’re just gonna stand there and let her?"

Braxton had been ready for that exact line. He smiled calm as you please. "The cameras are off."

The color drained from Jake’s face. Maxine’s resolve hardened. She pushed the glass down another half-inch, and blood flowed faster.

"I’ll talk! I’ll talk! She’s in Room F on the second floor!" Jake caved, desperate, scared out of his mind.

Maxine’s grip went limp. She stumbled back, her hands falling loose to her sides. A strong pair of arms caught her before she hit the floor. She glared at Jake, her voice low and deadly. "If you ever touch my mom again, this glass goes straight through your throat."

With that, she hurried up the stairs, found her mother, and asked Braxton to help get her home safe. Once everything was sorted, she climbed back into his car.

Braxton had waited patiently this whole time. He faked innocence. "Aren’t you going home with your mom?"

Maxine clicked her seatbelt into place, her voice calm. "You did me a huge favor, Mr. Payne. It’s only right I pay you back properly."

If he hadn’t been there, there was no way Jake would have caved and told her where her mom was so fast.

Braxton Payne had always valued Maxine Mason’s quick, sharp situational judgment, and the two were driving back to his estate together.

After a night of mind-blowing passion, Maxine had passed out cold from Braxton’s relentless energy. It was only 4 a.m. when a sharp, sudden cramp in her abdomen jolted her awake, gasping. Clutching her stomach, she sat up, stepping off the bed slow and careful. A quick shower later, she pulled on her clothes, glanced back at the rumpled sheets and the man sleeping dead to the world, grabbed her bag, and slipped out as quiet as a mouse.

The clinic was way more packed than she’d expected for that hour of the morning. Sophie rushed over to her, concern carved deep into her face, and shoved a test result into her hands. "What the hell were you thinking? You’re pregnant, and you’re still being this reckless? Braxton doesn’t know yet, but you can’t keep putting your own health at risk like this!"

Maxine’s eyes scanned the report, and she breathed a sigh of relief—turns out the pain was just from mild uterine pressure, nothing serious. Her gaze snagged on the doctor’s note: avoid strenuous physical activity for one month.

One month. Braxton could barely go a single day without it.

She handed the result back to Sophie, and flashed her worried friend a playful, reassuring grin. "I’ll be careful. Besides, you might as well start getting ready for your new title: Auntie."

Sophie’s heart ached for her best friend. She took the paper reluctantly, muttering, "He would’ve made me Auntie eventually anyway."

Maxine linked arms with her as they walked out of the clinic. A sharp, cold gust of wind hit them, making Maxine shiver and sniffle.

Sophie couldn’t stand seeing her freezing, and draped her own coat over Maxine’s shoulders. "With all the money Braxton has, you’d think he’d splurge on some decent warm clothes for you. Half the time you look like you’re barely wearing anything."

"There’s still a while before work starts. Why don’t you crash at my place for a nap?"

Maxine slid into Sophie’s car, listening to her friend’s worried fretting. "How are you planning to keep this hidden anyway? Braxton isn’t an idiot. If you keep dodging him, it’s only a matter of time before he figures out something’s up, and who knows what’ll happen to the baby then?"

She was right—it was a problem that couldn’t wait much longer. Maxine leaned her head against the car window, watching the night bleed into dawn outside the glass. "I’ll figure something out," she said lightly. She’d already dragged Sophie into enough of this mess; she didn’t want to burden her any more than she already had.

---

Back at work, Maxine carried on like nothing had changed. When she walked into his office, Braxton looked up from his desk, but didn’t ask a single question about her sudden disappearance that morning, like he didn’t care one way or another.

"Braxton, I’m gonna stay at Sophie’s place for the next month," she mentioned offhand, sorting through the day’s schedule on his desk.

Braxton, who’d been fully absorbed in his work, paused. His frown deepened, sharp with displeasure. "Are you fucking serious? I didn’t even nag you about bailing this morning, and already you’re making demands?"

He usually never questioned her choices, so Maxine froze for a second, caught off guard. She pulled a printed diagnosis out of her bag and slid it across the desk toward him. "Mild pneumonia. Highly contagious. Doctor ordered rest."

The subtext was crystal clear: no roughhousing.

"I can’t risk getting you sick, Braxton. It’s better if I stay somewhere else for a little while."

Her reasoning made total sense—Braxton couldn’t exactly force a sick person to stay with him. Even so, the way he flipped through his contract pages, sharp and loud with frustration, caught Maxine off guard. Before this, when she’d gotten sick, he’d only grumbled a little. Never this silent, simmering irritation.

While she was still turning that over in her head, her phone rang. The caller ID said *Mom*. Her heart skipped a beat, and she stepped out of the office without even excusing herself to Braxton.

"Mom?" she answered, slow and cautious, half expecting to hear the same angry, demanding voice she was used to.

Thankfully, it was her mom, sounding relieved and almost cheerful. "Don’t worry about me, baby. I found a job right near your office, it’s really nice working conditions."

Tears pricked Maxine’s eyes. "You should take more time off to rest, Mom. I still have enough money to cover you."

Her mom laughed softly. "Staying at a hotel’s so expensive, no need to waste all that cash. I’ll text you the address later."

"Okay. Take care of yourself, okay?"

After hanging up the short call, Maxine smiled a genuine smile for the first time in weeks. She walked back to the desk just as her mom’s text popped through with the address. It looked weirdly familiar.

Maxine pulled it up in a quick search. It was a small subsidiary under Payne Enterprises, with amazing benefits, and they specifically prioritized hiring older workers. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Braxton was the one who’d pulled the strings.

No wonder he’d been in such a foul mood this morning. Maxine glanced over at Braxton, who was still flipping through contracts, his face set in that unreadable stony mask.

She thought it over for a second, then walked over slow and graceful, leaned against the edge of his desk, and tilted his chin up gently with her finger. Braxton’s eyes locked on hers, and she pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his cheek. He blinked, caught completely off guard, then tugged her closer with one strong arm wrapped around her waist.

Maxine pressed a single finger to his lips, her smile turning coy. "No contact, remember?"

That only cranked up the tension, the anticipation thrumming between them. She let her hand drift slow down his chest, her smile growing more teasing, more tempting. "But I’ve got other ways to make it up to you."

Braxton’s office quickly filled with thick, heady tension. Maxine thought appeasing him like this would buy her enough time to figure things out without him doing anything drastic. But she quickly realized she’d severely underestimated how stubborn Braxton could be.

When he cornered her in the break room after work, Maxine pushed him away like before, her voice a mix of firm and fed up. "Braxton, did you already forget what I told you?"

He paused, then leaned in even closer, a flicker of annoyance glinting in his dark eyes. "I called the doctor. It’s not that serious."

He’d gone that far? Maxine’s eyes widened for a split second, but she dodged his embrace smoothly, a light smile still on her face. "Braxton, you should think about your health too, right?"

He caught her before she could slip away, gripping her waist tight to hold her pressed against him, his eyes narrowing. "Maxine. Are you hiding something from me?"

He wasn’t stupid. One or two little incidents could be written off as a bad mood, but this was clearly something else.

When she heard his suspicion, a jolt of panic shot through Maxine—but she pulled her composure back fast. "No, I just still feel like crap. You don’t want your best assistant overworking herself and collapsing, do you?"

Braxton stared at her in silence, scanning every inch of her face for any telltale give away. Unfortunately for him, Maxine had gotten really good at hiding what she really felt. She met his gaze with a calm, steady smile, totally unfazed.

Time dragged by as Maxine held her breath, waiting for him to push further. Suddenly, Braxton let go of her, stepped back, and straightened his suit jacket, his voice dropping to icy cold. "Make sure all the documents for tomorrow’s meeting are ready."

Maxine Mason stared blankly after Braxton Payne as he walked away, the lounge door swinging shut behind him. The click of his leather soles echoed down the hall, fading slowly into silence. He was furious.

The realization hit her like a jolt, and Maxine shot to her feet, grabbed her coat, and hurried for the door. But when her hand hit the frame, she froze, uncertainty locking her in place. Wasn’t this exactly what she’d wanted? Braxton keeping his distance from her?

Square her shoulders, she turned back, straightened the meeting schedule, and laid it neatly on Braxton’s desk before heading straight for Fiona’s apartment. For three days straight, every conversation between them had been strictly business. Even when their eyes accidentally locked, they both looked away on instinct, just like a couple in the middle of a fight.

Maxine knew better than anyone what this was—Braxton’s little power play. He was waiting for her to cave, to make the first move. The weight of it crushed her. In just one week, she’d dropped eleven pounds, her face sharpening noticeably. Fiona, sick with worry, insisted she take a break to clear her head.

It just so happened to be the first weekend in forever Braxton hadn’t dumped work on her, so Maxine agreed. They took advantage of the gorgeous clear weather to go hiking on the nearby trails. Fiona badgered her into dozens of selfies, and when Maxine spotted her rare bright smile in the shots, she picked a couple to post to Instagram.

They’d barely made it back down the mountain when Braxton’s name popped up on Maxine’s phone. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Why was he calling her on a day off? Was something wrong?

Fiona peeked at the caller ID and huffed, "Don’t pick up. Work calls on weekends are never good news—they just want to bleed you dry."

"But what if it’s an office emergency…" Maxine reasoned, and answered the call anyway, under Fiona’s disapproving glare.

Braxton’s voice rolled deep and addictive through the line. "Come to my place when you’re done."

The request caught her completely off guard. "Is something wrong?"

"If you’re well enough to go hiking with Fiona, I assume you’re feeling better. So why would there be a problem?" he said, like it was the most normal request in the world.

Maxine got it immediately. This wasn’t about work. He was just impatient to yank control back now that she was on her feet again. Refusing wasn’t on the table, but she’d been told to rest and take it easy while she recovered. She thought for a second, then answered soft and steady, "Alright. But I’ve been craving a drink. Will Mr. Payne indulge me?"

"When have I ever treated a drink like a luxury around me?" he chuckled low.

After hanging up, Fiona frowned with worry. "You’re actually going? Your health isn’t something to mess around with."

She wasn’t wrong—even today’s hike had required multiple stops to keep Maxine from overdoing it.

Maxine squeezed her friend’s shoulder, smiling to reassure her. "Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing."

---

Night fell, and San Francisco’s skyline blazed to life as Maxine arrived right on time at Braxton’s hilltop villa. Inside, the coffee table was stacked full of liquor bottles. Braxton, loose in a plush cashmere bathrobe, was reclined in an armchair, his dark eyes glassy with alcohol as he watched her.

Spotting the half-empty whiskey bottle already on the table, Maxine felt a tiny flicker of relief. When Braxton had a little drink in him, he was always easier to handle. Getting him to drink a little more wouldn’t take much work.

Maxine settled smoothly onto his lap, lifting a glass with a slow, easy smile, "Couldn’t wait for me, huh, Mr. Payne?"

She took a small sip, then leaned in to press the rim to his lips, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Braxton drank it down.

One bottle after another emptied out after that. By the fourth, his usual sharp, focused gaze was foggy, though his arms still curled tight around her waist on instinct.

Maxine had only ever sipped at the edge of her drinks, so her head was still perfectly clear. She cracked open a new bottle and fed him sips straight from the neck.

Three more bottles later, Braxton’s arms went limp. He slumped heavy against her, out cold. She called his name a few times, but got nothing back.

Relieved, she carefully slid out from under him, grabbed a couple of blankets from the linen closet, draped one over him, and wrapped the other around herself. She’d planned to stay just long enough to make sure he was really out, then leave.

Somehow, she ended up asleep on the couch.

Her breathing was soft and slow, the blanket slipping down her shoulders as she shifted in her sleep. A well-defined, calloused hand caught it before it could fall all the way, tucking it back tight around her.

The man who was supposed to be dead drunk stared down at her with dark, searching eyes, and murmured low, "What the hell are you playing at?"

Since the second bottle, Braxton had known something was off. But he’d played along anyway, curious what her game was.

When he “passed out” and heard her moving around, he’d cracked one eye open, half-expecting her to pull something crazy—she knew nearly all of his deepest business secrets, after all.

But all she’d done was cover him up and curl up on the couch. Warmth wrapped around his chest, and then the apartment went quiet.

When Braxton woke, he found Maxine asleep right there on his couch, her face soft and peaceful. Had she gone through all this trouble just to get him drunk so she could nap?

As he studied her serene, almost childlike face, something in his chest softened. He gently lifted her into his arms, carried her to his king-sized bed, and she murmured something soft in her sleep.

He froze, thinking he’d woken her, but she just snuggled deeper into his chest, still dead to the world.

Hmm. Something was different about Maxine. Before, even the slightest sound would have her jolting awake, ready to jump and do whatever he needed. Now she hadn’t even stirred when he carried her across the house. Had she been that exhausted lately? Or was she still recovering, worn thin from being sick?

A hundred different thoughts spun through his head, but in the end he just pulled her closer against him, flipped off the lights, and went to sleep.

The next morning, Maxine woke up with a jolt. When she spotted Braxton’s sleeping profile next to her, she slipped out of bed as quiet as a mouse. The mess of empty bottles caught her eye, and a twist of guilt pricked her stomach.

Braxton wouldn’t figure out she’d gotten him drunk on purpose, would he?

After freshening up and saying goodbye to his housekeeper, she hurried out, eager to avoid any awkward questions from Braxton on her way into the office.

By the time she got to the bullpen, the whispers had already started.

"Did you hear? Everyone’s saying Maxine is actually Payne’s mistress."

"So it’s true? I always wondered how she landed that position with no real experience. Tsk."

"Well, duh. Secretaries always end up sleeping with the boss…"

The gossip got meaner by the second.

Maxine walked in with a hard face, her cold gaze sweeping over the huddle of gossiping coworkers. "This is an office, not a coffee shop for idle chatter. Mr. Payne and I have no such relationship, and if I hear any more of these rumors, I’ll be sending this straight to HR to handle."

The coworkers exchanged awkward, guilty glances and went dead silent.

Just then, Braxton walked through the door, catching the last line of her denial. His jaw tightened, and his face went dark.