Chapter 27 Kairo
KAIRO
There’s nothing more draining than a charity Christmas gala in upstate New York where everyone who’s anyone makes an appearance to persuade the press and their friends that they really have spent all year doing something good to help those less fortunate.
I watch them all from the upper floor, leaning against the gold railing and gazing down at the sea of wealth before me.
Hundreds of checks will be written tonight to ease consciences and make sure those with enormous social media followings are seen doing good, so every ordinary person who hangs wistfully onto their every word feels like those with more are just like everyone else.
Last year, I was exactly like them. Hell, six months ago, I was the same.
Now, I dodge phone calls from Ryan, my CFO, who’s so furious at losing the land deal that the last voicemail he left me was just enraged nonsense that I’m not even sure was English.
Mom would be the same, but she’s far too concerned with her current public image to risk any conversation that would keep me from turning up here.
Mrs. Sycamore hosting this without her son would be such a scandal that I was almost tempted to blow off the party.
But Devon is coming.
And last we spoke, she sounded insanely excited to come.
So I put on my best blue suit, combed my hair, and sent Martin to escort her while I was wrapped up in promotional press pictures playing the happy son of the Sycamore family.
Luckily, no reporters were dumb enough to ask about the blow to Silver Canopy.
For once, business takes a backseat to charity.
Sinking my teeth lightly into my inner cheek, I stare at the entrance to the hall and will the next person to walk through to be Devon.
I crave to see her.
She told me she’d gotten herself a beautiful dress and I resisted looking at the charge on my card to see where she bought it from.
She could turn up in a garbage bag and she’d still be more beautiful than anyone else at this party.
Down below, my mother’s laugh carries obnoxiously through the air as she weaves back and forth through the crowd, wearing a green dress that rivals the shade of the four Christmas trees set up around the hall.
Each one is next to a table for people to bid on different prizes ranging from luxury cruises to a brand-new helicopter—the true cost of charity.
My phone buzzes lightly in my suit jacket, but rather than reaching for it, my eyes dart back to the entrance to the hall and my heart stills in my chest.
She’s here.
Devon steps into the hall and steals my breath away.
Her curvaceous body is wrapped up in an absolutely stunning silver floor-length dress that wraps her up in starlight and glitters from every angle.
The heart-shaped corset carefully hugging her chest melts into sheer fabric that covers her shoulders and drapes down her arms like the glittering trail left by shooting stars.
Her thick hair is curled and scooped to one side, draping over her shoulder, while her free ear is glittering with a dangling red earring the same shade as the lipstick swept over her kissable lips.
Martin stands next to her, nodding as they exchange words, and she nervously clutches a gold tote to her abdomen.
I’ve never descended stairs faster in my life.
It’s a wonder I make it down without breaking my neck and I’m slightly breathless by the time I reach them.
Martin flashes me a smile and melts into the crowd, but the entire room might as well be empty because all my attention, all my focus is on her.
“Devon.” Her name warms my throat. “You look absolutely beautiful.”
Her dark-lined eyes meet mine briefly before her gaze falls away, shy. “It’s not too much?” she whispers.
“It’s perfect.” I refrain from tacking on a you’re perfect and offer her my elbow. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here.”
Devon loops her hand around my arm, and it’s then that I notice the absence of her blue cast.
My heart skips a beat and our eyes meet again as a cheeky smile crosses her face. “Surprise,” she murmurs. “I got my cast off yesterday.”
“Are you okay? How is your arm? Are you in any pain?”
“Kairo, relax.” She leans into me with a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling.
“I’m fine. My wrist is a little tender, and movement feels kind of stiff, but it’s okay. If I’m honest, I feel a little rough, but I think it’s the stress of everything, y’know?”
Concern warms my chest as I listen, then I pat her hand as she holds my elbow. “If you want to leave at any point, let me know. You don’t even need a reason.”
“I’ll be fine,” Devon assures me. “Besides, it’s about time I held up my end of this deal. No one can ask about your dating life with me on your arm.”
She’s right, but as prepared as Devon might be, the people around us are vultures.
As soon as someone spots us together, they descend with all the tact of a lion among pigeons and quiz Devon on every aspect of her life.
I offer as much support as I can, keeping people at a distance from her and redirecting all rude questions.
But Devon holds her own.
She’s honest about who she is, what she does, and her thoughts on the performative nature of the rich in this world, only doing the bare minimum to help out those less fortunate in society.
She even puts me on blast a little, but her words ring entirely true, and I don’t let her hold back.
Until we meet my mom.
“Devon. How nice of you to come,” she says while holding out her hand and sounding like she’s just spent ten minutes chewing something obnoxiously sour.
“It was lovely of Kairo to invite me.” Devon smiles and reaches for her hand but before they make contact, Mom snatches it away and tilts her head as if hearing something.
“Oh, I’m sorry, excuse me. And Kairo?” She steps away but pauses to give me a sharp look. “Stand up straight. I don’t want people thinking I raised an incapable son. Remember who you represent, hmm?” And then she’s gone, leaving an uncomfortable tightness in my gut.
“Wow,” Devon breathes. “Your mom is mean.”
Grimacing, I put her out of my mind.
That’s not a conversation I want to have yet, not when Devon is on my arm looking so beautiful that I can’t take my eyes off her.
“She’s high-strung,” I say as if that explains anything.
Devon nods, fanning herself slightly, then she puffs out her cheeks. “It gets warm fast, doesn’t it?”
“Are you too warm?”
Our eyes lock and she nods, wincing slightly as if admitting such a thing is a huge inconvenience to me.
“Come with me.”
Taking her hand, I lead Devon through the crowd toward the back of the dance hall.
The crowd thins to almost nothing, then I lead her out of the building and onto the veranda, where twinkling lights of all colors wrap around the wooden trellis above our heads.
Colorful streamers dangle down like wisps of moss, rocking gently in the very slight breeze that carries fat snowflakes through the air.
While the decking below our feet is warmed and free of snow, beyond the steps stretches a winter wonderland where even the fir trees and fountains are lit up with sparkling lights.
All the light, as soft as it is, reflects on Devon’s dress as she moves and she looks like she’s wrapped delicately in shimmering water.
She takes a few deep breaths and tightens her grip on my hand as she walks to the edge of the deck and stares out at the garden.
“It’s so beautiful here,” she murmurs. “I never knew such a garden existed in New York.”
“I prefer the gardens near your home,” I reply softly, “but New York does have a few gems tucked away.”
“Are all your parties like this?” She gazes up at me with a soft smile while plucking slightly at her dress.
“I feel like I’m wrapped in plastic wrap and presented like some strange toy to all the people in there.
I don’t know if it’s because of how I look, if it’s because everyone in there is as thin as celery and I’m here like some ornate apple, or if it’s because of the money, but no one seems happy. ”
It’s difficult not to laugh and I run my thumb over her knuckles. “You feel like an ornate apple?”
“Yup.” She slides her hand over her abdomen. “Just in case you hadn’t noticed by now.”
Words rest heavily on the back of my tongue, words of utter sin and desire that I can’t utter to her for fear of scaring her away.
Her curvaceous body has never been anything but incredibly alluring to me, and yet she speaks as if it’s something I would consider as a negative.
“Devon?”
“Mmhmm?” She faces me with a light smile, and I enjoy being the center of her attention for a few minutes. “What’s wrong?”
“I just want to look at you.”
The apples of her cheeks immediately flush red. “Is there something on my face?”
“No. I just can’t quite believe I have someone so incredibly beautiful on my arm.”
My words are soft. “After everything…” Sucking in a deep breath, I swallow around a soft, growing lump in my throat.
“It’s no secret that I enjoy spending time with you, Devon.
In fact, ever since I met you, I’ve found myself striving to be a better person, a clearer person so that you would like me. ”
“That I would like you?” Her brow lifts upward slightly. “As if there’s anything not to like.”
I chuckle quietly and shake my head.
“The point I’m trying to make, Devon, is that ever since I first saw you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.
You’ve changed my perspective on so much in my life, and I don’t mean to imply that your presence is only good for that.
I mean that you make me want to be a better man, a man worthy of your attention and time. ”
Her cheeks darken further and she looks away, but despite the tremble I feel moving through her, she doesn’t take her hand away from mine.
“All this because I came to your party?” she murmurs.
“No. But your bakery is safe. Everything that kept us in this deal can end as soon as you want it to. But I don’t want this to end, Devon. I like you. A lot. And I think you feel the same about me. And whatever this is, whatever it can be… I’m not ready for you to not be in my life anymore.”
Slowly, Devon’s eyes flick back up to mine, and she subtly tilts her head to the left.
“There’s so much about me that you don’t know.”
“I would love the opportunity to learn.”
“What if you don’t like what you see?”
“I have that same fear, Devon.”
Stepping closer, I curl my finger and place it under her soft chin then tilt her head up. “All I’m asking for is a chance.”
“A chance,” she repeats, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Just one chance. At your speed. On your terms. Just one chance.”
My heart begins to speed up as a debate rages in her eyes.
I want to hear her thoughts, find out what tangles her up and makes her hold herself back.
I want to experience every second she will grant me and learn every detail about what makes her tick.
I want to hold her and protect her and keep that smile on her face for the rest of her life.
“My terms?” She reaches up and her warm, soft hand presses gently against my cheek.
“Your terms.”
“I’d like that,” she whispers. “I’d like that a lot.”
Her hand caresses down my neck to the rumpled blue silk tie around my neck.
It ends up in her fist and pulls taut as she leans up on her tiptoes and very slowly pulls me down for a kiss.
The moment our lips meet, my future is set.
I am hers.
For whatever she needs, whenever she needs.