Beautiful Things - Benson Boone; Let Em Go - Matt Hansen
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Chapter Nineteen
The memory came like a ghost, uninvited yet sharp enough to cut through the present.
Jeffrey stood in his office, the city lights stretching beneath him like an endless sea of temptation, but his mind wasn't on the skyline. It was on her.
"You promised me forever, Jeff," her voice echoed, low, trembling. He remembered the way she had stood in that same office five years ago, her red dress vivid against the cold marble. Her hand clutched another man's arm, the betrayal written in her eyes before her lips even confirmed it.
"Forever?" Jeffrey had laughed bitterly then, because what else could he do? "Forever's a joke, sweetheart. And clearly, you found the punchline first."
That night hardened him. That night turned Jeffrey Dalton from a man who believed in promises into a man who collected broken ones like trophies. It was easier to drown pain in champagne, to lose himself in boardrooms and bedrooms, than to ever risk handing someone the power to ruin him again.
But even as the memory faded, leaving only that familiar ache in his chest, Jeffrey realized something terrifying: Diane Dalton was cracking his armor, and he hated how much he cared.
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The Dalton family mansion buzzed with its usual elegance and sharp-edged laughter. His grandfather, the man behind the family, their backbone, sat at the head of the long mahogany table, a silent king whose stare could peel the skin off a man. Damon lounged casually to his right, spinning a glass of wine like he didn't have a care in the world, while Jason scrolled through his phone until his father snapped at him to "show some respect."
Jeffrey arrived late, as always, tugging off his tie with deliberate nonchalance.
"Fashionably late," Damon muttered with a smirk. "Or just terrified of another lecture?"
Jeffrey ignored him and dropped into the empty chair. "Let's get this over with. What's the agenda? Another intervention about my nonexistent wife?"
His grandfather's cane tapped against the floor, sharp and deliberate. "You're thirty-two, Jeffrey. You're running the company, but power without legacy is fragile. I've tolerated your games long enough. It's time to settle down."
Jason perked up, grinning like the little instigator he was. "And lucky for you, we've arranged something. Meet Isabella Harrington."
Jeffrey's jaw tightened. The Harringtons were old money, their empire rooted in oil and scandal. Isabella herself was beautiful, polished, and ruthless, a woman raised to play the wife of a king.
"She'll be at the charity dinner this Friday," his mother added smoothly, as if they hadn't already planned every detail of his life. "The press will be there. You'll look perfect together."
For a moment, Jeffrey considered refusing outright. He wanted to tell them all to go to hell, that he didn't need their arranged heiresses or their staged headlines. But then Diane's face flickered in his mind, Diane, with her steel composure and those eyes that dared him to be more than the charming mask he wore.
Maybe… maybe this Isabella situation could be useful. A test. If Diane didn't care, if she didn't flinch, then he could lock away these stupid, dangerous feelings and move on. But if she did…
Jeffrey leaned back, a smirk curving his lips. "Fine. I'll meet her."
Damon arched a brow. "Just like that? No protest, no sarcasm?"
Jeffrey shrugged. "What can I say? Maybe I'm tired of being the family disappointment."
Jason choked on his drink. "You? Settle down? That's the funniest thing I've heard all year."
"Shut up," Jeffrey muttered, but he was still smiling, already plotting how to play the game on his own terms.
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On Diane's end though.....
The morning sun streamed through the tall glass windows of Dalton Enterprises, but Diane barely noticed. Her desk was buried in contracts, acquisition reports, and a dozen emails flagged urgent. She thrived in chaos, though. If work was a storm, she was the eye at the center, calm, untouchable.
Her phone buzzed for the fifth time. She didn't even glance at it. Jeffrey had been texting her all morning, random quips and half-teasing remarks. Normally, she'd fire back something witty just to shut him up, but today she ignored him. She couldn't afford distraction.
Still, she wasn't blind. She had noticed the whispers. The murmurs among the staff about Jeffrey being seen with Isabella Harrington at some upcoming event. It wasn't official yet, but Diane knew enough about society games to recognize a setup when she saw one.
She told herself it didn't matter. Jeffrey's personal life was none of her business. He could date heiresses, actresses, or supermodels, it had nothing to do with her.
And yet, when she walked into the boardroom later that afternoon and found him already there, lounging in his chair with that devil-may-care grin, something twisted in her stomach.
"Miss Dalton," he drawled, eyes glinting with mischief. "Hard at work as always. You ever take a break?"
"Some of us actually have responsibilities," she shot back, sliding her files onto the table.
He leaned forward, close enough for her to catch the faint trace of his cologne. "What if I told you I was considering… settling down?"
Diane blinked, caught off guard. "I'd say it's the funniest thing I've heard all year."
He chuckled, echoing Jason's earlier words, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze. Something serious. Something almost vulnerable.
Diane pushed it aside. "Well, congratulations in advance to whoever's unlucky enough to try."
Their eyes locked for a second too long, the air charged with something neither of them dared name. Then the door opened, breaking the spell as the rest of the team filed in.
Diane straightened her notes, forcing herself to focus. She didn't have time for Jeffrey Dalton's games.
But later, as she typed up her report, her mind betrayed her. She pictured him at that dinner, Isabella on his arm, the cameras flashing, the world believing they were perfect together. And for the first time in years, Diane felt the sting of something she had sworn never to feel again, envy, an ugly ass feeling.
She clenched her jaw, shoved the thought away, and typed faster. Work was safe. Work was everything.
If Jeffrey Dalton wanted to play games, she would not be one of his pawns.
Not again.