Your Song - Rita Ora; Love More & Love More - Cat Burns
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Chapter Twenty-Nine
The grand ballroom glittered beneath a thousand chandeliers, their golden light shimmering across crystal glasses and polished marble floors. The annual gala was Dalton Industries' crown jewel, where alliances were cemented, fortunes were whispered about, and reputations either flourished or burned.
Diane had chosen her gown carefully, a sapphire silk that hugged her figure and fell like liquid light, every step deliberate, every smile calculated. She wasn't just here as a guest, she was here as a statement. And on her arm was Alexander Pierce, steady, sharp, devastatingly composed in a tailored black tuxedo.
The moment they entered, heads turned. Whispers rippled like electricity. Diane saw it, women narrowing their eyes in jealousy, men raising their brows in intrigue. She ignored them all, though her heart pounded harder than her heels on marble.
And then she saw him.
Jeffrey.
He stood near the bar with Jason and Damon, scotch in hand, his charcoal-gray suit cut to perfection. But it wasn't the suit that made her falter, it was the way his eyes locked on her. Dark. Heated. Dangerous.
Jason leaned in, murmuring something to him, but Jeffrey didn't move. His jaw tightened, knuckles whitening around the glass, gaze fixed on Diane as though Alexander wasn't even there.
"Are you ready?" Alexander's low voice grounded her. His hand brushed against hers lightly, steadying.
She forced a smile. "Always."
They wove through the room, stopping to greet investors and acquaintances. Alexander's charm was effortless, his compliments disarming, his wit razor-sharp. And yet Diane couldn't stop feeling Jeffrey's stare burn across her skin.
It didn't take long for their paths to cross.
"Diane," Jason said warmly, intercepting them with a grin. "And Alexander. You both look… dangerously sharp tonight."
"Jason." Diane smiled politely, though her gaze flicked, unbidden, toward Jeffrey. He hadn't greeted her yet. He simply studied her, his eyes an unspoken storm.
Alexander, ever smooth, clasped Jason's hand. "Good to see you. Quite the turnout this year."
"It's always a show," Jason chuckled.
But Jeffrey finally spoke, his voice cutting through the hum of the room like a blade. "Some of us came to work, not put on a show."
The words weren't aimed at Alexander, or Jason. They were aimed directly at Diane.
Her lips parted, but Alexander was faster. He tilted his head, smiling as though Jeffrey hadn't just thrown venom into the conversation. "On the contrary, Jeffrey, I'd argue Diane has elevated this evening just by walking through the door."
Diane's cheeks warmed, but not from Alexander's compliment, from the way Jeffrey's eyes flashed at the remark. His jaw clenched. His scotch glass clicked sharply against the bar.
Jason's grin faltered, sensing the current shift. Damon casually inserted himself, smoothly offering Diane a champagne flute. "Shall we toast? Before the tension breaks glassware?"
The small circle laughed, diffusing the moment, but Diane's hands trembled slightly as she sipped her drink. Across the rim of her glass, she met Jeffrey's eyes again. His expression said everything his words hadn't: you're mine, even if you don't admit it.
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Later that night, when the gala ended, Diane sat in her bedroom, the silence deafening after hours of chatter and string music. She replayed the evening on a loop, the way Alexander's hand had steadied her, the way Jeffrey's gaze had unraveled her.
On her dresser sat a fresh bouquet of white lilies from Alexander, delivered just that morning. Their fragrance filled the room, a gentle reminder of his steady devotion. He was everything rationality told her to want.
And yet, every time she closed her eyes, she saw Jeffrey.
Elsa knocked softly before entering. "You were the talk of the gala."
Diane smiled faintly. "That was the point."
Elsa tilted her head, studying her. "You looked happiest when you weren't trying so hard. When Alexander smiled at you."
Diane froze, staring down at her hands. "And when Jeffrey glared at me?"
Elsa's silence was answer enough.
"Stability matters," Elsa said gently. "Alexander will never break you the way Jeffrey does."
Diane swallowed hard, nodding, though her heart twisted. She wished she could believe stability was enough.
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The following morning, Dalton Industries' boardroom was alive with anticipation. Investors lined the polished mahogany table, briefcases open, eyes sharp. Diane entered with her presentation, calm and precise, every move rehearsed.
Until she saw him.
Jeffrey.
He was seated across the table, his own files spread before him. A rival bidder for the very contract she was here to secure.
Her pulse spiked, but she refused to show it.
"Good morning, everyone," she began, voice steady. "Today, I present Diane Couture's expansion proposal—an integration of fashion and technology designed to—"
"—minimize risk by innovation," Jeffrey interrupted smoothly. He leaned back, smirking. "We've heard this speech before, haven't we?"
The investors chuckled politely. Diane's cheeks burned, but she refused to falter.
"With all due respect, Jeffrey," she said sharply, "Dalton Couture is doing what your company never could, creating synergy between aesthetics and function. Investors want vision. Not recycled arrogance."
The room went still. A few jaws dropped.
Jeffrey's eyes narrowed, but he smiled slowly, dangerously. "Careful, Diane. Arrogance and confidence often wear the same dress."
It was a duel of words masked as professionalism, every sentence edged with history only the two of them knew. Observers shifted uncomfortably, unsure if they were witnessing rivalry or something deeper.
By the end of the meeting, Diane had delivered her proposal flawlessly, earning nods of approval. But her triumph soured when Jeffrey intercepted her outside the boardroom.
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The corridor was quiet, the air thick with tension.
"Congratulations," Jeffrey said, his voice low and biting. "Alexander must be proud of his perfect little prodigy."
Diane spun on him. "Don't you dare bring him into this."
"Why not? You parade him around like a trophy, Diane. As if you're trying to convince the world you've moved on."
"Moved on from what?" she demanded. "From you? From the endless games? From being dragged into your storms?"
He stepped closer, eyes burning into hers. "From us."
Her breath caught. For a heartbeat, neither moved. The air between them crackled, electric, dangerous. His gaze dropped to her lips.
For one dizzying moment, she thought he would kiss her. She thought she might let him.
But then she forced herself to step back, shaking her head. "You don't get to do this. Not anymore."
"Don't I?" His voice was soft, almost broken, but his eyes still burned with that unyielding fire.
Diane's chest ached as she tore herself away, heels echoing down the corridor. Behind her, Jeffrey stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides, his breath ragged, like a man standing on the edge of a cliff with nowhere left to go.
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