Angels Like You - Miley Cyrus; Fix You - Coldplay
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Chapter Eight
Diane hardly remembered how she got home. One moment she was in Jeffrey's car, her thoughts spinning from Damon's cryptic words, making her uneasy, the next she was standing in her bedroom, still in her dinner attire. Her heels lay discarded near the door, her blazer draped over a chair. She didn't recall taking them off, and part of her wondered if she'd sleepwalked the rest of the way.
Her mind replayed fragments of the night. Jeffrey's smile, smug, confident, almost irritatingly charming haunted her. And Damon's warning, calm but loaded with intent: "Be careful where you place your heart, Diane. Jeffrey doesn't always play fair." She had laughed it off then, dismissing it as fraternal teasing, but now it made her stomach twist. How much did Damon know? And more importantly, why warn her?
Exhaustion claimed her eventually, and she collapsed onto her bed without so much as removing her makeup. Sleep came in fits, fragmented by dreams of Jeffrey's calculating eyes, her parents' expectant smiles, and Chelsea's teasing voice echoing: "Don't let them play you."
By morning, sunlight streamed harshly through the curtains, warming her shoulders and forcing her eyes open. Her body protested, sore from tension she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand, jolting her further. It was Chelsea.
"Open the door. I brought coffee and moral support. And your face? Fix it. You look like roadkill."
Diane couldn't help but laugh despite herself. She ran a brush through her hair, splashed cold water on her face, and trudged downstairs. Chelsea was already there, balancing two iced caramel macchiatos and her notebook under one arm. Her auburn hair was pulled into a messy bun, and her oversized sunglasses sat dramatically atop her head.
"You look like you wrestled with your sheets and lost," Chelsea said, shoving a cup into Diane's hand as she flopped onto the couch.
"Good morning," Diane muttered, closing her eyes for a moment.
Chelsea's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Don't lie. You're haunted. Haunted by a boy, haunted by royal meddling. What happened last night? Spill."
Diane sipped her coffee, letting the iced caramel soothe her nerves. She hesitated, weighing her words. "It wasn't Jeffrey. Not exactly. It was Damon… his brother."
Chelsea's eyebrows shot up. "The mysterious, middle brother? What did he say?"
"He warned me," Diane said quietly. "About Jeffrey. About… getting involved."
Chelsea leaned forward, intrigued. "And that bothers you because…?"
"Because it wasn't casual," Diane admitted. "It felt deliberate. Like he knew something I didn't. Like I'm in the middle of a game I can't read."
Chelsea tapped her pen against her notebook thoughtfully. "Classic power move. He wanted to throw you off balance. And look, it worked girl. You're reacting. But that's what he wants. These boys? They thrive on control. Jeffrey, Damon, and Jason… you just got a small taste last night. You have to remember who you are. Diane Dalton. Fashion empire. Untouchable. Stunning. Don't let one cryptic warning rattle you."
Diane felt the corner of her lips tug upward despite her unease. Chelsea always had that effect, sharp, forceful in a good 'push yourself' kinda way unapologetic, fearless.
"You make it sound simple."
"It is simple," Chelsea said with a shrug. "Focus on you. Forget the games, forget the whispers. And trust me, if I sniff a scandal or secret, I will write it. But don't let it control you first."
Diane laughed, tossing a pillow at her friend. "You're impossible."
"And you love me for it," Chelsea quipped, taking a triumphant sip of her coffee.
They spent the next hour dissecting last night, Chelsea teasing out details Diane hadn't consciously registered the way Jeffrey's gaze lingered too long, the subtle smirk when Diane raised an eyebrow, and even the silent exchanges between his brothers that hinted at unspoken hierarchies and plans. Each detail sent a thrill and a chill down Diane's spine. The man was dangerous, yes, but fascinating in a way she couldn't ignore.
By the time Chelsea left, Diane felt a little steadier, though the tension didn't fully ease. Chelsea's parting words echoed: "Don't let them have your mind, Diane. But… enjoy the ride. You're not boring, and neither is he."
Diane stared out the window after the door closed, sipping her coffee and letting the words sink in. She thought about Jeffrey, about Damon's warning, and about the thin line between attraction and danger. Something told her this story was only just beginning.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, she really knew, just knew, that this was going to be far messier, far more intoxicating, and far more dangerous than she could ever have imagined.
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