It’s Just Business

“Are you sure about this?” Maggie asks from the bathroom doorway. She’s eating a bowl of cereal—Rice Krispies with a dash of salted caramel coffee creamer added to the milk—while she watches me get ready.

“No,” I admit, meeting her eyes in the mirror. I lower my mascara wand so I don’t poke my eye out and turn to face her fully. “But Dylan said this is a way for me to save face, for him to put on a show of power, and for us to move on… together. So, even though I’m nervous as all hell, this is what I’m doing.” I wave the mascara wand around, indicating that I’m getting ready for the governor’s Young Leaders ball.

The truth is, when Dylan called, I was mostly expecting him to say we needed to play it cool for a while. In the insecure pit of my stomach, I thought maybe he’d say I needed to work somewhere else or not come into the office. I know how finicky the markets can be, and the smallest problem can have a ripple effect that reaches far and wide.

A scandal like this could be disastrous.

So when he told me the new plan was a very public display to hard launch our relationship, I was confused to say the least. But once he explained PR was on board and that he wanted it too, I couldn’t say no. I shake out my hands and breathe deeply. Never in all of the racing thoughts did I think Dylan’s plan would be to introduce me as his girlfriend to everyone. I thought it was all lost or at least barely being held by a thread, but if tonight goes as he said it will, it could be the start of a dream life I never even dared to dream.

That doesn’t mean I don’t have hornets buzzing around in my belly at the thought of walking into the ball, watching all eyes turn to us, and hearing the whispers work their way through the room.

That’s her. The one in the article.

Poor idiot doesn’t realize she’s a gold digger.

And any other snide remark made under their breaths. But I’m trusting that with Dylan at my side, I can face anything. I’m going to do this… for him.

Taking in a deep breath, I remind myself not to fuck it up, and it feels like that same moment from months ago, when everything is riding on this one moment.

All the small moments play in my mind as I reapply another coat of blush I don’t need.

From ‘it’s just business’ to ‘he’s the love of my life’. Damn, that happened fast. But then again, Dylan is a power to be reckoned with, and it’s no surprise he would take my life and my heart by storm.

“Okay, then,” Maggie says, smiling at my action over fear approach. “Go with the red lips again. They make you look like you could suck Dylan’s wallet—or his soul—out via his dick.” I gape at her, and she shrugs, shoveling another bite of cereal into her mouth. She crunches as she says, “What? They’re gonna be saying it. Might as well give them something to work with. And it’s your color and it’s sexy as fuck.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I pick up a lip liner. One to go with my favorite red lipstick because she’s right. I’m going in big, loud, confident, and bold. And red is a confident color.

“Want me to quiz you some more?” Maggie offers.

I’ve treated this ball like a work project, deep diving into my research on who will be there, what they do, and paying special attention to the governor’s politics, like his targeted tax relief for the working class and his wife’s pet projects, which literally includes pets. She’s both a dog and cat lover, so I’m hopeful that’s a good sign.

“I think I’m good, thank you, though. And thank you for studying with me the last couple of days.” I cap the lipstick and turn to my friend to look her in the eyes. “I know it wasn’t your idea of fun.”

She shrugs. “No biggie. Just promise me that if anyone asks about the article, you’ll shove a flute of champagne up their ass.”

I laugh at the image that creates in my mind, cocking my head as though considering it. “Not sure I can do that, but I’ll try.”This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

“Alright, hair and makeup done. Next, get dressed.” Maggie lets me by, and in my bedroom, I pick up the silver gown I bought for tonight. On Dylan’s card, no less. He sent me to a fancy boutique, told me to buy whatever I wanted to feel beautiful and ready for war, and I’d known the instant I put this dress on that this was it.

I slip the dress up my body, sliding the thin straps over my shoulders, and then pull on my new red Louboutins. I might’ve been shopping with Dylan’s money, but I tried to be reasonable, and the red heels will get infinitely more wear than the silver heeled sandals the salesperson suggested. Plus, they kinda reminded me that, like Dorothy, I’m no longer in ‘Kansas’ anymore, but rather, I’m in the big leagues.

I turn, facing the full-length mirror.

I look stunning and powerful, confident and beautiful. And when a smile tilts my lips… sexy.

It’s perfect.

And just in time, because barely five minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. I strut across the living room, opening the door to reveal Dylan in a crisply tailored tuxedo. Good God. He is the definition of perfection.

It’s not the typical prom-slash-wedding number. The jacket is black, but so is his shirt and his long silk tie. He’s quite literally the man in black, and with the dark look on his face, he seems ready for war too. I can’t help how the butterflies act up when I see him. Or how my body heats. Or the tension that grows between us.

Even knowing why we’re dressed to the nines and where we’re going.

‘Mr. Sharpe,” I say, fighting off the urge to keep him here all to myself and be a no show tonight.

“Miss Hill, you look gorgeous,” he replies. His eyes trace over me before returning to mine, and I can see that he’s struggling with the same desires I am.

A smile pulls my lips up, and I have to admit to myself that I love it. That this man who gets to me in every single way is affected by me just the same. My heart pounds, and it only stops when we’re interrupted.

Behind me, Maggie says, “You two are something else. Do you call each other Mr. Sharpe and Miss Hill while you’re in bed too?” We laugh, but our eyes never leave each other.

“Shall we?” Dylan says after clearing his throat and holding his arm out.

We say goodbye to Maggie, whom I promise a full report to, and then take the jerking, terrifying elevator downstairs. Vince holds the car door open for me, inclining his head in silent appreciation for my appearance. I thank him with a smile as I climb in. Once we’re settled, Vince heads off into the night.

“Nervous?” Dylan asks, his thumb drawing circles on the back of my hand. It’s soothing, but I don’t think anything will calm my nerves down. It feels like everything is riding on this moment. All eyes on us. Every word and subtle movement judged. And either we pass the test and the threat of devastation ceases to exist, or everything tumbles down and there will be hell to pay that could affect the entire company and Dylan’s reputation.

I blink once, remembering his question. “I was, but I feel better now that I’m with you,” I confess.

One side of his lips tilts up in a hint of a smile. It’s just the tiniest bit, so slight I wonder if he even knows he’s done it. “Me too.”

The drive is short, both of us silent as we alternately look at each other and out the window. It’s a comfortable silence, though, like we’re both mentally reviewing our talking points for the evening.

When Vince stops in front of the International Hotel, I have a moment of panic. Dylan’s quick with opening the door and helping me out, his hand in mine, but it’s all too much. The lights are bright and the press is three deep as we step out onto the red carpet. There’s more than politics here tonight. There’s business, there’s entertainment, there’s everything the Faulkner event was trying to be, turned up to the max.

“There they are!” someone calls, and a machine gun burst of flashbulbs goes off.

I freeze for a split second, but Dylan squeezes my hand, and I turn my eyes to him rather than the crowd. He seems completely at ease, like the continuing flashes aren’t even happening, and when he smiles at me, I relax enough that my legs move on their own accord even though I feel like I’m going to fall if he lets me go.

Sensing my returning comfort, he smirks and with a tug of my hand, spins me into his arms, kissing me. He even dips me back ever so slightly, and I lift a leg for balance, my red shoe peeking out at the hem of my gown. The press and the looky-loos react just as he anticipated. “Whoooooo!”

“Good work, Darling,” Dylan whispers when our lips part and he lifts me back up.

We keep going, and I keep moving through the motions although it’s all so surreal. We skip the press line as Dylan sees his friend Austin standing by the door, an amused look on his face. He offers his hand as we approach, and I shake his hand for the first time. “I hear you’re partly responsible for this?” I joke lightheartedly, although it doesn’t come out as confidently as I wish it did with all the nerves gathered.

“You’re welcome,” Austin replies, and I can’t help but laugh at his deadpan delivery. “You’re going to be the talk of the city tomorrow morning.”

“What about the talk of the nation?” Dylan asks, wrapping his arm around my waist. Austin notes the move and laughs a little.

“Raven, I do hope you can keep your boy on a tight leash tonight. Don’t let him do anything stupid.” The advice is delivered with a friendly smile that Dylan returns.

Austin looks past us, his eyes going hard and cold in a blink. The change is uncanny, and it seems Dylan’s right. Austin is a bit rough around the edges, but if he’s earned Dylan’s trust, then he has mine too. “If you’ll excuse me, I see someone I need to speak with,” Austin says, his voice clipped.

Austin goes inside, and I give Dylan a look. “He seems nice.”

Dylan chuckles. “He would be offended to hear you say that, but he’s a good guy, a good friend.”

“I bet he’d say the same about you.” I nudge him slightly, looking up at him through my thick lashes.

Dylan beams. It’s a genuine smile, and it powers us through the night. The ball tonight is different from our first night together at the charity event, because I’m not trying to impress or curry favor with anyone here. And I’ve earned my seat in a number of ways. Maggie reminded me of how well I’m doing. She said that’s what the industry should be talking about. Hell, the scandalous pairing might be a match made in the heavenly slit of their wallets. So that’s what I keep in mind while we walk through the throngs of people.

And that’s powerful. It’s like everyone, from the local star quarterback to the governor’s wife herself, is drawn to us.

“Don’t you worry,” the governor’s wife says while we sip champagne together. Dylan’s across the room, talking with Austin and the governor while supposedly getting appetizers.

“Worry about?” I echo, my smile falling ever so slightly. My stomach drops as she’s the first to say anything aloud. I’ve been enjoying our polite conversation about a local street photographer who specializes in dog portraits, but this is it… the moment it goes off the rails and turns ugly, I think. She’s going to tell me not to worry what everyone thinks or what the gossip rags say while simultaneously looking at me hungrily for any tidbit she can have.

I peer at her, all my hackles on high alert, but she smiles easily.

“My husband’s going to try and rope Dylan into politics. He’d be good at it too, but I don’t think Dylan’s interested. He’s always been so singularly focused on his business, although that attention seems to branching out in lovely ways.” She gives me a look, but rather than judgment or snarkiness, she sounds… kind and genuine. “Congratulations to you two, by the way.”

“Oh, uhm… thank you.”

Reading my concern, she gently bumps my shoulder with hers. “What do they say about press? The only bad press is no press.” She shakes her head, laughing lightly.

“I’m not so sure I agree?” I whisper, my heart pounding.

When she sees my nervousness, she adds, “If I believed a quarter of what’s written about me, about my husband, or about us, I’d spend my days in a fetal position, bawling my eyes out. I’d like to think most people understand that. You just have to stand strong through the storm and show them who you are unapologetically and so loudly that they can’t help but hear you, see you, know you.”

“Wow. I didn’t… uh… Thank you,” I say with more certainty this time. “I really appreciate that.”

She tilts her head gracefully, acknowledging my words. “Though my husband speaks fondly of Dylan, I don’t know him all that well, but what I do know is that he hasn’t taken his eyes off you the whole time he’s been forcibly detained for a discussion he has no interest in.” Her eyes sparkle as she cuts them across the room.

I follow her gaze and find Dylan smiling politely at the governor, who’s talking passionately about something. But Dylan’s eyes are on me. He lifts a brow in question, and I nod, offering a small smile and a wave, letting him know I’m okay.

Because I am… I’m okay. We’re okay.

After that moment, the fear of someone saying anything is released. It’s like I simply let it go. Instead, the night is filled with chatter and laughs, champagne glasses and cheers.

The night is seamless, and I can’t believe it’s over when Dylan wraps his arm around me and tells me it’s time to go. It flew by. With the ball over and so many others leaving, we make our way down the way we came in, and once again, it feels surreal. Only this time, for a different reason.

As Dylan and I walk out, I can feel him silently gloating. “What is it?”

“You were amazing,” he says, “and I couldn’t be happier.”

“Did you see the Faulkners there or something?” I ask, the nerves threatening to come back up again, and Dylan shrugs. Holding the door for me, we slide into the back seat of the car, and Vince closes it for us. “What’s that mean?”

“It means I didn’t notice or even think to look,” Dylan says. “I only had eyes for you.”

My first response is the warmth that flows through me, but the second is a sobering realization.

I realize that he’s right. I didn’t see Evan or any of his family there tonight, but I also wasn’t even thinking of them. I was enjoying myself, meeting people in the industry, talking about the city, and grateful for being at Dylan’s side, watching him have a good time.

Everything else seems insignificant outside of that.

I lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I saw that,” I tell him with a pleased smile. “Did the governor try to talk you into joining him? His wife seemed to think he would.”

Dylan huffs out a long-suffering sigh but seems more amused than annoyed. “Every time I see him, he does. I’m not opposed to being on the city council, but I don’t know how I’d make time. Tamara would probably throw my schedule at me and tell me to figure it out myself.” He laughs, and I do too, knowing that his assistant would do no such thing.

“As long as she pencils me in,” I tease.

Dylan pulls me to his side, cupping my jaw. Right before he kisses me, he murmurs, “I don’t know what I’d do without our standing six o’clock meetings every day.”

And then his mouth is on mine, his lips moving lower, and nothing else in the world matters as the back of the car gets hotter and hotter.