Sunset Lover - Petit Biscuit; Dandelions - Ruth B
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Chapter Ten
Diane stared at her reflection in the mirror, adjusting the folds of her deep purple dress for the upteenth time. The early morning light spilling through the tall French windows made the silk shimmer like water, highlighting her unease rather than masking it. Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she smoothed her hair. She hated that. Hated that one man, Jeffrey Black, had managed to wedge himself into her thoughts so thoroughly after just a handful of encounters.
"Stop it, Diane," she whispered, tightening the belt around her waist. She tried to push away Damon's cryptic words from the night before, his warning ringing with something more than casual brotherly concern. Damon seemed to know too much, as though Jeffrey's storms weren't his alone to weather.
But there was no time to dwell. Her day brimmed with obligations, supplier negotiations, a design review for her upcoming collection, and a scheduled press interview. Yet none of them seemed as pressing as the question swirling inside her: how much of her composure would Jeffrey try to strip away today?
By the time she arrived at her office, Chelsea was already there, perched comfortably on her desk as though it were her throne. Her leather-bound notebook balanced on her lap, pen moving furiously, glasses sliding to the edge of her nose.
"You're late," Chelsea said without looking up.
"You broke into my office again," Diane replied dryly, though the faint tug of a smile betrayed her amusement.
"Minor detail. What matters is that you look like you fought a war in your sleep. Was it him?"
Diane paused, setting her bag down with unnecessary care. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She gestured for Chelsea to stand up and sit on the couch as she made herself busy, turning on computers, arranging her table, before she looked at her annoying best friend.
Chelsea finally looked up, eyes dancing with mischief. "Please. I've seen that look before. You're rattled. By Jeffrey Black."
"He's complicated," Diane admitted reluctantly. "Arrogant. Infuriating. The kind of man who doesn't just walk into a room, he...he consumes it."
"And yet here you are," Chelsea grinned. "Waxing poetic like a heroine in one of my columns."
She let Chelsea's word hang in between them, concentrating on her business, her secretaries walking in and her handling business. Time flew by before she realized and it was almost time for lunch.
Before Diane could snap back, her phone buzzed across the desk. The name flashing on the screen made her pulse stumble.
Chelsea gasped, then slapped her notebook shut dramatically. "Oh, this is good."
Diane raised a warning brow before answering. "Hello?"
"Good morning, Diane," Jeffrey's voice slid through the line, low and assured. "I trust you slept well?"
"Well enough," she said evenly.
"I'm nearby," he continued. "Thought I'd drop in."
Her brows shot up. "Nearby? Conveniently near my office?"
"I make my own convenience. I'll be there in five minutes."
The line went dead.
Chelsea clapped like a delighted child. "The prince of shadows himself. Diane, your life is officially a serialized drama, and I want publishing rights."
Diane pressed her fingers to her temple. "This is a disaster."
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Jeffrey arrived as promised, the door swinging open as though he had been invited. The office seemed to contract around his presence, sharp suit tailored to perfection, eyes sharp enough to slice through her defenses.
Her secretary running in behind him, still star struck, buh trying to explain to her boss. Diane waved her and she walked out, glancing back at the handsome man in her boss's office.
He watched her walk out, "Miss Dalton," he said smoothly, gaze traveling over her with deliberate slowness. "You look… radiant."
Chelsea muttered as she scribbled into her notebook, "This is column gold."
Diane shot her a glare sharp enough to wound before addressing Jeffrey. "To what do I owe this ambush?"
"Ambush?" His lips curved. "I call it initiative. I thought we might discuss our families' arrangement. Over lunch, perhaps?"
Chelsea nearly toppled from the desk. Diane shoved her toward the door with a firm hand.
"For journalism!" Chelsea cried, laughing as she slipped out.
The door clicked shut. The room shrank again until it was only them.
"You'll find I don't play by the rules," Jeffrey said, taking a slow step closer.
"Then you'll find me a difficult opponent." Her chin tilted upward in defiance.
His smile was dangerous, admiring. "Good. I wouldn't want you any other way."
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The restaurant Jeffrey chose was discreet yet elegant, tucked away in the heart of the city. It whispered of money, not screamed it. Private tables shielded by frosted glass offered seclusion, the perfect stage for dangerous conversations.
"Hungry?" he asked, pulling out her chair with polished ease.
"Always," Diane replied, tone clipped, polite, but betraying nothing of her racing pulse.
Menus were hardly necessary. Diane ordered confidently in French, her accent sharp and precise. Jeffrey raised an impressed brow.
"You speak French, I noticed the last time" Jeffery started up the conversation.
"I study languages. Useful in business."
"Useful… and charming." His smirk tugged wider. "I like a woman who makes me work to keep up."
"I'm sure you'd like any woman" Diane responded, snidely.
"Jealous?" Jeffrey asked, chuckling.
"You wish!" She rolled her eyes.......
Their banter slid effortlessly into rhythm, barbed remarks hidden under layers of civility. Diane surprised herself with laughter once or twice, quickly disguising it with sips of wine. Jeffrey noticed, of course, his eyes never missed.
When the fish arrived, Jeffrey leaned forward, fork poised as though to test her plate.
"Careful," she warned, arching a brow.
"Don't let the chef ruin perfection," he countered. "I'll hold someone accountable."
"You always threaten over fish?"
"Depends who I'm dining with," he murmured, gaze intent. "Some people are worth it."
Dessert, rich chocolate tart, arrived like punctuation to an unfinished sentence. Diane was literally drooling, something Jeffrey noticed and smiled at. Silence stretched between them, but it wasn't empty. It thrummed with awareness. For the first time, Diane saw not just the ruthless businessman or the enigmatic royal, but a man studying her with genuine curiosity.
Well, that turned into a late lunch, Diane thought as she looked at the stunning diamond wristwatch on her wrist to check the time, she might as well just go home and handle the rest of her work from there.
When the check was handled discreetly, Jeffrey rose, offering his hand. "Allow me to see you home."
She obliged.
The drive was quiet, filled with surface-level remarks about the city, their families, the inevitable pressures of their positions. Yet beneath it all, unspoken words lingered, that neither dared voice.
At her estate gates, Diane hesitated. She shouldn't. But her heart gave her away.
"Until next time," Jeffrey said softly, his smirk tempered with something more dangerous, sincerity. "I expect it will be… enlightening."
"You expect too much," Diane countered, though her voice betrayed a thread of warmth.
As the car pulled away, Diane lingered on the steps, heart racing, realizing she hadn't merely survived. She had been drawn deeper. Jeffrey Black wasn't just circling her world anymore, he was already inside it.
And she wasn't sure she wanted him out.
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