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“Be honest with me. What do you think of Dylan and me?”
Vince clears his throat and then plays with the knot of his tie at the red light. I’ve barely spoken to him, apart from polite greetings and asking how his day is. He’s a private man. But he’s seen Dylan and me in the back of this car more than a dozen times now. And I know he’s been Dylan’s driver for years before me.
“What do you mean, Miss Hill?” he asks.
“Am I being foolish, sleeping with him and risking the entire firm finding out?”
Vince relaxes slightly, shaking his head and driving forwardas the light turns green. “Miss Hill, I’ve been a driver for thirty years, starting with a taxi that I’d cruise around the Square at night, picking up tourists and barflies and more, taking them wherever they wanted. I’ve been a chauffeur, both rental and, for the past few years, on call for Mr. Sharpe. All that to say, there have been a fair number of people in my backseat, so I know what I’m talking about.” He glances in the rearview mirror, making sure I understand he’s an expert as far as he’s concerned. “Mr. Sharpe barely smiled, barely spoke in this car unless it was a business call.” He swallows and then tells me, “I used to tell my wife he needs a partner. Although I’d never tell him, and this stays between the two of us, right?” he asks, and his eyes search for mine in the rearview mirror.
“Of course,” I answer him.
“You are a remarkable young woman, one who has made him a happy man for the first time in… well, as long as I’ve known him. And sometimes, we do things for people we care about that might seem stupid to people who don’t understand the whole situation. Trust me. My wife could tell you stories.”
I take a moment to embrace Vince’s advice.
“It sounds like you think very highly of him,” I answer, and I don’t expect his response.
“I spent my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in the Bahamas because of him,” Vince explains, “and my son has a scholarship waiting for him that Mr. Sharpe doesn’t know I know about. That’s the sort of man he is.” His eyes find mine in the rearview again. “He’s a good man, and I think the two of you make for a beautiful couple. We’re almost there.”
Vince drops me off with a ‘Good luck, Miss Hill’, and I go upstairs on weak legs, where Dylan’s waiting for me in his living room. Crossing the floor, I force myself to look him in the eyes, wanting to make him understand. “Dylan.”
“Darling,” he answers, his voice deep and the cadence doingsomething sinful to me.
We always start with a greeting, it seems, but hearing his name for me helps. I sit down on the couch, angled toward him but on another piece of furniture. My nerves flutter through me, and I can barely sit still.
“Would you like a drink?” he offers, but I look him in his eyes. The intensity that stares back begs me to simply let go. It promises that he’ll catch me.
“No… let me just say it,” I start and take in a deep breath.
He straightens, the cords in his neck tightening as he swallows. “Say whatever you’d like, and then I have something to say as well.”
“Dylan, I’m sorry,” I begin. “Today, I was embarrassed, but it wasn’t you. It was me. I’ve spent so much of these past months either angry, or scared, or… well, lust-drunk. And when Tamara walked in, it felt like everything I’d been telling myself—that as long as no one saw, it didn’t matter what the rumors were at work, not while I was doing so well on my own and they could surely see that—it all… disappeared in a blink, and I had to come to quick terms with being seen as the one thing I’ve fought against…”
I truly thought my biggest fear in all this was that I’d be seen as a gold-digging climber who is using Dylan, but when I dug a little deeper, there was an even uglier truth.
I swallow thickly and say, “I’m not good enough for any of this. I’m faking it in so many ways, acting like I have a clue when sometimes, I don’t know what I’m doing. That’s why I’ve been worried about everyone else. At some point, they’ll figure out that I’m an imposter pretending to be confident. Because the truth is, I wasn’t good enough to get an internship on my own—Evan had to help me—then I couldn’t get a job on my own. You took pity on me. I wasn’t good enough to keep Evan from straying…” Dylan growls at that one, but I don’t let it stop me. My emotions get the best of me as every insecurity heats my body. “And now, I’m not good enough for a man like you.”
“I’m the one not good enough for you,” he corrects harshly. “But I’m trying to be. So fucking hard. I’m working my ass off to override a lifetime of hustle, of grabbing what I want with both hands and stubbornly refusing to let go, because I want you to choose me, not be forced to stay with me because you have no other option.”
I stare at him, his words sinking in along with my own confession.
“You’re not allowed to say you’re not good enough. I get to decide that, and you are everything to me,” he confesses, and my entire world slows. The walls are closing in. “I get to love who I want to love, Darling. So don’t you dare think you’re not good enough for me when I want you so desperately.”
I blink, awestruck. “We sound like a pair of woe-is-me shitshows,” I say, hiding my feelings behind sarcasm.
Dylan inclines his head. “Perhaps. Or like two people willing to grow and change and improve, for us and for another who’s worth the growing pains. As long as you want me, I want you,” he says.
“I do want you,” I say earnestly. “I choose you, over and over, Dylan.”
He exhales heavily, a small shudder working through him as the words settle into his body, heart, and soul.
“Good. That’s the only thing that matters. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. I mean it, Raven,” he stresses.
“What did you want to say?” I dare to ask him, not wanting to think about the office and exhausted from my own back and forth and racing thoughts.
He takes a moment, locking eyes with me and searching for something before he starts. “I need to ask you, Raven. What is it you want out of this? Out of your life?”
“I want it all,” I tell him evenly. “I want to be respected for my accomplishments on their own, to be with you, to have you wrapped around my finger even as I’mhelpless under your command.” I offer him a small smile with that, and he huffs a laugh, breaking the tension that had gathered. My heart beats harder as I confess, “I want to be your partner, your darling, your confidant. I want everything. I want to be yours.”
