Silence - Marshmello & Khalid; Before You Go - Lewis Capaldi
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Chapter Eleven
The car ride home had left Diane with a lingering feeling she could not quite shake. As Jeffrey's sleek black sedan pulled away from her parents' estate, she remained on the front steps for a few moments, staring at the receding taillights, even though the housekeeper was at the door holding it wide open for her. Something about the way he'd looked at her, steady, unreadable, but softened at the edges, made her chest feel both unsettled and strangely full.
Inside, the house was quieter than usual. Her parents had retreated to their wing, and the faint hum of the chandelier above the staircase was the only sound. Diane kicked off her heels, ignoring the soft thud they made against the marble floor, knowing the housekeeper would pick it up after her and walked toward her room with her thoughts buzzing as she climbed the stairs towards her wing.
Focus, Diane, she told herself. You have a board meeting tomorrow. You can't let one man, no matter how infuriatingly magnetic, derail you.
She settled behind her desk in her study in her wing, turning on her work desktop and she settled in to complete the work she was not able to do earlier that day due to the annoying man who insisted on crashing and inviting her for lunch. She quickly worked into the night, only realizing that time had passed when she cramped up and she had to get up quickly to stretch, her gaze unconsciously going to the alarm clock at the corner of the table. She tidied up some loose end and sent a a few emails before turning off the desktop, walking towards her room.
Yet as she slipped into her room, she found herself replaying the conversation at lunch. The way Jeffrey had listened when she spoke about her designs, his teasing about her croissant obsession, and more than anything how Damon's cryptic words the night before kept threading themselves into her mind, bugging her.
Was Jeffrey a battle? Or was he something else entirely?
Diane changed into silk pajamas and haphazardly collapsed onto her bed. Sleep claimed her faster than she expected, but even in her dreams, Jeffrey's voice tangled with Damon's warning.
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The next morning, sunlight poured through her window like golden ribbons, and the soft ping of her phone dragged her awake. She groaned, reaching for it. The message was from Chelsea.
Chelsea: Board meeting at 10. Don't you dare be late, Madam CEO. Also, spill everything about lunch later.
Her eyes went to the alarm clock on her bedside table, 8am.
Diane smiled despite herself. Chelsea, in all her journalist fervor, always wanted details. Still, today wasn't the day to indulge her curiosity. Diane had a presentation to make, one that could shape the next season's direction for her company.
By nine, she was dressed in a cream pantsuit that commanded both elegance and authority, heading out the door. She figured her parents were either still in their room or on their way to work. Her driver pulled up in front, and soon, they were weaving through the city toward her flagship office. The glass-fronted headquarters of Diane Couture towered into the sky, a reflection of her ambition and her relentless work, she was proud to say she built this company up from the scratch.
Inside the boardroom, her team was already waiting. Fabrics, sketches, and mood boards cluttered the long oak table. Diane slid into her chair at the head, her presence instantly pulling the room to order.
"Good morning," she began, her voice crisp. "Let's get started."
The meeting was intense. Discussions about color palettes clashed with budget concerns, while marketing strategies were debated with the fervor of courtroom arguments. Diane thrived in it, her mind sharp, her instincts precise. She was The Diane Dalton. This was her world, the empire she had carved out for herself long before her father's plans had thrown Jeffrey Black into her orbit.
Yet, even as she dissected design concepts and negotiated costs, her thoughts drifted. She caught herself wondering what Jeffrey was doing at that exact moment. Was he in some marble-walled office, commanding his own people with the same intensity she felt now? Or was he with Damon or Jason, plotting out whatever cryptic brotherly secrets they seemed intent on guarding?
A voice cut through her reverie. "Diane? What do you think about shifting the launch from Milan to Paris this season?"
She blinked back into focus, her professional mask snapping firmly into place. "Paris has stronger media pull right now. Let's work projections on that, but only if it doesn't cut into the couture line's exclusivity."
The room nodded in agreement. She leaned back, silently chastising herself. She couldn't afford distractions. Not now.
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Meanwhile, across the city, Jeffrey Black sat in his own glass tower, surrounded by polished steel and towering windows that overlooked the bustling streets below. A stack of contracts lay untouched before him. His assistant rattled off updates about international trade negotiations, potential partnerships, and royal obligations.
But Jeffrey's mind wasn't on any of it.
It was on Diane.
The lunch replayed in his thoughts like an unshakable loop, the spark in her eyes when she challenged him, the way her laughter had sounded against the clinking of glasses. He hated to admit it, but she had slipped past his carefully constructed defenses.
A knock at the door broke his thoughts. Damon stepped in, casual as ever, tossing a file onto Jeffrey's desk. "You're distracted."
Jeffrey's jaw tightened. "I'm handling business."
"Sure," Damon smirked, dropping into the chair opposite him. "Business with a certain fashion queen whose parents still think you're the devil in Armani."
"Not your concern," Jeffrey replied evenly, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed the truth.
Damon leaned forward, his expression serious now. "Just remember what I said. Not every battle is worth winning. And Diane? She isn't a battle. She's… different."
Jeffrey's gaze hardened, though inside, Damon's words struck uncomfortably close. Different. That was exactly what unsettled him.
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Back at her office, the meeting finally drew to a close, it was pretty late. She did not realize she had worked so late and also making her employees work so late, she promised herself that she'll give them a bonus at the end of the season. Diane stood by the window, staring down at the busy streets. Somewhere out there, Jeffrey was living his empire, just as she was living hers. Their worlds were separate, yet colliding in ways neither of them could control.
Her phone buzzed again. A message this time, not from Chelsea, but from the man who her mind had weaved into her existence.
J: Did you get home safe last night?
Diane froze, her breath catching. She didn't need to guess who it was. A slow smile curved her lips. She felt like her body would recognize the man before her mind caught up.
Jeffrey Black.
And just like that, the war between her heart and her mind ignited all over again.
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