Nokia - Drake; Mi Corazon - Micah Palace
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Chapter Fourteen
Diane Dalton didn't even notice the clock ticking as she stood in her office, fingers gliding over swatches of silk and velvet, her mind half on the fabrics and half on the lingering memory of Jeffrey Black's smirk. The city outside her floor-to-ceiling windows hummed with the usual energy, but her own world, the world she had built from scratch, pulled her attention inward. Every color, every cut, every thread mattered; yet somehow, Jeffrey had managed to occupy a corner of her mind that she usually reserved for strategy meetings and design presentations.
"Diane!" Chelsea's voice broke through her concentration like a trumpet blast, followed by the sound of her notebook slamming onto the desk. "You're going to give me a heart attack if you keep staring at those fabrics like they're going to whisper their secrets."
Diane looked up, brushing a strand of her dark hair from her face. "Chelsea, we have deadlines. And the fabrics might whisper if you stop yelling."
Chelsea grinned, adjusting her messy bun and pushing her glasses up her nose. "Oh, I love it when you get sassy before the first cup of coffee. Truly inspiring. But listen, I got a lead on a story that might make the front page, and I think, no, I know, you'll want to hear it."
Diane raised an eyebrow, amused despite herself. "A story that doesn't involve me running out of my empire screaming?"
"Details!" Chelsea bounced in her chair. "But first, you must promise to tell me about your lunch with Mr. Black. Don't think I didn't notice the way you practically melted when he smiled. I mean, come on, that man is like a perfectly designed supercar in a tailored suit."
Diane pinched the bridge of her nose, half exasperated, half entertained. "Chelsea, he's insufferable. And you are insufferable for trying to psychoanalyze me at seven in the morning."
Chelsea, unbothered, started flipping through her notebook, muttering to herself as if cataloging every mischievous observation. "Insufferable or not, you're hooked. Admit it. And also, did you notice how he didn't just talk, he… measured you. Every reaction, every blink. Like a chess player who's already three moves ahead."
Diane laughed despite herself, the sound low and reluctant. "You make it sound like I'm some helpless pawn in his game. I'm far from it."
Chelsea shrugged, leaning back with that insufferable smirk of hers. "Pawn, knight, queen… call it what you will. But honestly, Diane, you've got a target painted on your back whether you like it or not. And speaking of targets, your mother called this morning. She wants to see some of the new designs before the board meeting. She's… supportive, but persistent."
Diane groaned inwardly. Family pressure, fashion empire, Chelsea's relentless commentary, and now a looming board meeting. She could feel the corners of her smile twitch. "Supportive, or dangerously overinvolved?"
Chelsea laughed, flipping another page in her notebook. "Both. Classic mother energy. But hey, that's why we love them… sometimes."
Diane glanced at the piles of sketches across her desk, mentally mapping out the day ahead. Meetings with suppliers, finalizing patterns, overseeing quality checks, attending the press interview, all required precision. And yet, beneath the rhythm of her empire, her thoughts drifted back to Jeffrey.
She remembered the subtle tilt of his head when she spoke French at lunch. How his eyes lingered on her hands when she gestured. The dangerous curve of his smirk that always made her pulse spike, though she refused to admit it aloud. It was maddening, and yet, she couldn't stop replaying it in her head.
Chelsea, noticing her distraction, leaned forward conspiratorially. "You know, he's going to be back. Mark my words. The man doesn't do casual. There's strategy behind every one of his little moves."
Diane's lips pressed into a thin line, her mind racing. "I'm not planning to lose control. Don't worry."
Chelsea smirked knowingly. "Control is relative when it comes to him. Just… be careful. And maybe keep a weaponized smile ready."
The day stretched on with the usual chaos of running a company, but every client meeting, every design critique, every phone call, carried Diane's half-conscious awareness of the game she was now part of, this dance with Jeffrey Black. The board meeting ran long, with her mother asking pointed questions that Diane expertly deflected, all while Chelsea jotted notes and whispered commentary under her breath.
By late afternoon, Diane finally retreated to her private studio, needing a moment of solace. She sank into the leather chair, closing her eyes as the hum of the city filtered through the large windows. And that's when her phone buzzed, an unexpected message.
Diane, the text read, lunch was enjoyable. Shall we continue this… conversation over dinner tomorrow?
Diane's fingers hovered over the screen. The text was casual, almost teasing, yet it carried the weight of his authority, the subtle pull of his charisma. She exhaled slowly, a mixture of annoyance and reluctant curiosity brewing within her.
Chelsea peeked in, spotting Diane staring at her phone. "Oh no. Not this déjà vu again. Are we doing the texting tango now?"
Diane rolled her eyes, muttering, "It's a negotiation disguised as flirting."
Chelsea leaned on the doorframe, grinning. "Negotiation or not, you're hooked. Admit it. And between you and me, I think you could use a little bit of attractive buh dangerous chaos."
Diane couldn't help but laugh, the tension in her shoulders loosening just slightly. "Chaos has a way of finding me without assistance, believe me."
The sun dipped low, casting long shadows across her studio, the light catching on the edges of the sketches that lined the walls. Diane sat back, absorbing the beauty of her creations, the power she wielded, and the unexpected, thrilling complication that Jeffrey Black had introduced into her life. For all her experience in managing empires, navigating public perception, and balancing ambition with grace, this, this unpredictable, magnetic, infuriating man, was a challenge she hadn't anticipated.
And yet, a small, unacknowledged part of her couldn't wait to see what would happen next.
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