Ghost - Justin Bieber; You're Gonna Go Far - Noah Kahan
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Chapter Seventeen
The lunch was intimate, held at a discreet French bistro tucked into a quiet street of the city. Diane Dalton arrived first, stepping out of her car with the same measured poise that made heads turn even in passing. Her heels clicked on the marble floor, the deep violet of her dress perfectly complementing the warmth of her skin. A few guests paused mid-conversation, subtle admiration in their eyes, though Diane moved past them, focused on the table where Jeffrey would soon appear.
Jeffrey Black arrived moments later, exuding effortless command. His tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders, and the subtle sheen of his cufflinks caught the light in a way that made it impossible not to notice. As he approached, Diane felt the familiar jolt of awareness, the same magnetic pull she had felt since their first encounter.
"Miss Dalton," he greeted, rising slightly from his chair. "You look… formidable today."
Diane allowed herself a tiny smirk. "I'm here to discuss business, Mr. Black, not charm you."
"Business and charm often go hand in hand," he countered smoothly, gesturing toward her chair.
They settled, menus briefly exchanged before Diane effortlessly placed her order in French. Jeffrey raised an eyebrow, impressed, his smirk revealing more amusement than surprise. He always knew she was a brilliant woman.
"I see multilingual brilliance comes standard with your empire," he teased.
"I find it useful," she replied evenly, folding the menu. "Language is as much a tool as capital."
Their conversation was a delicate dance, part flirtation, part negotiation. Diane spoke of upcoming collections, her strategy for expansion into new markets, and the meticulous management of her fashion empire. Jeffrey countered with insights into global investments, emerging tech, and his own corporate vision. All the while, subtle touches and glances underlined a tension that neither wanted to openly acknowledge.
"You handle pressure with grace," Jeffrey said, studying her over the rim of his glass. "Most would crumble under such visibility."
"I thrive under it," Diane replied, a playful glint in her eyes. "Visibility isn't a threat; it's a platform."
Their laughter punctuated a few lighter moments, teasing comments about dress choices, subtle jabs about corporate rivals, and playful warnings not to make him look too good in front of suppliers. Dessert arrived: a delicate chocolate torte adorned with gold leaf. Diane allowed herself a moment to savor it, noting the careful presentation and meticulous flavor.
"Perfection," Jeffrey murmured, glancing at the torte and then back to her. "I appreciate attention to detail, on plates and in people."
Diane tilted her head, caught off guard by the sincerity behind his smirk. "And yet you challenge it."
"Only if it's worth the challenge," he replied smoothly, leaving her wondering exactly which one he meant.
By the time lunch concluded, Diane felt a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion. They exited into the sunlight, the world suddenly feeling sharper, brighter. Jeffrey's arm lightly brushed hers as they walked toward their cars.
"Until tonight?" he asked.
"I'll see you," Diane said, instinctively knowing her parents were somewhere observing from a distance, silently approving or critiquing the interaction. They would always send someone to watch her, it's exhausting actually.
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The evening gala was a different world entirely, ornate chandeliers, crystal chandeliers, a hundred conversations blending into a hum of elegance and ambition. Diane moved through the crowd with poise, wearing a dark green body hugging fishtail dress and black sandal heels with delicate teardrop earrings in form of armor, noting the eyes that followed her, the soft murmur of admiration as influential figures recognized the powerhouse she had built and the powerhouse she comes from. Jeffrey waited near the center of the hall, a faint smile acknowledging her entrance. He knew she was one hell of a lady, and everyone had their eyes on her.
"Diane," he greeted as she approached, his hand offering an handshake and he held her delicate fingers to her lips. They talk for a while before the piano comes on, signaling the start of the dance.
He held his hand out to her, subtly gesturing towards the dance floor.
"You're not serious?" she asked, one brow raised.
"I'm serious about the next step," he replied, voice low, teasing yet commanding. "And tonight, the dance floor is my battlefield."
Diane laughed lightly, letting herself be led into the center. The music swelled, a slow, elegant waltz. Heads turned as they moved together, effortlessly, the room's attention shifting subtly to the pair. Diane felt the thrill of control and release simultaneously, her mindset colliding with her personal pulse racing against his rhythm.
Jeffrey leaned slightly closer, his lips brushing near her ear. "I hope you can match me in every way," he murmured, a trace of mischief beneath the edge of command.
Diane's pulse quickened, a smile tugging at her lips. "I've never lost at anything I set my mind to, Mr. Black."
They spun through the dance, glances and words exchanged under the guise of formalities. Every step, every tilt of the head, every careful alignment of bodies radiated power, chemistry, and unspoken competition. For Diane, it wasn't just a dance, it was a negotiation, a battle of control, and a test of patience all at once.
Chelsea, across the room, was elbowing Jason, whispering with a mix of delight and envy. "I told you. Sparks. Literally everywhere."
Jason chuckled. "Careful, Chelsea. That fire might burn both empires down before they even know it."
The two busybodies making themselves busy with other people's business.
As the music slowed, Diane and Jeffrey came to a graceful halt. For a moment, they simply regarded each other, the unspoken tension thick enough to fill the grand ballroom. Diane's breath caught, not from exertion, but from the intensity of the gaze, the undeniable connection, and the subtle challenge that lingered between them.
"I expect an encore," Jeffrey said softly, a playful threat hidden in the gentleness of his voice.
"You'll get it," Diane replied, voice steady, though her chest fluttered. "But only when I say so."
The night continued, a blend of conversation, laughter, and strategic networking. Yet, even as Diane engaged with potential clients and donors, her thoughts kept returning to Jeffrey, the magnetic pull of his presence weaving through every interaction.
As the gala ended and she was escorted home, Diane reflected on the day, lunch, laughter, business, and dance. Every encounter with Jeffrey left her more exhilarated, more cautious, and more aware that her carefully controlled life was slowly yielding to the irresistible chaos he brought.
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