Chapter 36 Complicated Looks Good On You #2
She’s with Wynter, of course. Wynter in black, slit high, eyes sharp, energy humming like a low bass note. Lori’s there too, sapphire and charisma, already mid-story with hands flying.
Kelley follows my gaze, lets out a low whistle. “That ‘nothing’ you were staring at is wearing lime and turning heads.”
I don’t look away.
“She deserves to be celebrated,” I say, voice low. “She’s… incredible.”
Kelley’s smile shifts—something softer, more measured. “Press is thick tonight. I’d be careful how long you linger.”
“I know.” My jaw ticks. “That’s why we came separately. I’m not her man tonight.” A beat. “Just the co-founder. The host.”
He side-eyes me. “Look at you. Growing up right in front of me.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, already moving.
Five steps.
That’s all I get before Rebecca materializes like she teleported straight out of hell in a burgundy gown and a clipboard aura.
“James. Wilde.” Her smile is polite, her eyes are knives. “I’ve got people who need you.”
My gaze flicks past her, helpless, back to Harlee. She’s still there, still laughing, still just out of reach.
“Rebecca,” I say, tone calm, like I’m not fighting the urge to commit a strategic disappearance.
“District attorney. A judge. A few donors who think ‘habeas corpus’ is sexy,” she adds, amused. “And Amelia wants to know if your speech is before or after dinner.”
I keep my face neutral. “Neither.”
Rebecca’s grin widens. “Not an option.”
Kelley makes a suffering noise. “Bro thought he could host a gala and not speak.”
Before I can form a counterattack, Rebecca turns her gaze on Kelley, delighted. “Also, Amelia says you’re opening the auction.”
Kelley freezes. “Excuse me?”
Rebecca plucks the champagne flutes from our hands and drops them onto a passing tray like she’s disarming us.
“We’re not doing last year again,” she says, all polished calm. “No slurred metaphors. No freestyle toasts.”
Kelley’s head snaps toward her. “Did she just say I can’t drink?”
“Yes,” Rebecca replies, sweet as sin. “I did.”
She’s already moving when she adds over her shoulder, “The Buchanans are expecting you, James. Secure the donation.”
…yeah.
That’s the Rebecca I hired.
Efficient. Surgical. Slightly terrifying.
And, conveniently, a perfect exit.
If this room wasn’t full of people who matter more than me tonight, I’d still be trapped in that conversation. So I’ll take the win where I can get it.
Kelley watches her go like she just revoked his civil rights. “This is abuse. Open bar and I’m on probation?”
“You did try to quote Kayne,” I remind him.
“I was inspired.”
“You were drunk.”
He shrugs. “Same thing.”
I start moving again because if I stand still, I’ll end up trapped in another donor conversation about “impact” and “legacy” while the only person I actually want to spend this night with stays across the room like a mirage.
We make it one more interruption before I see her again. A couple wants a photo. A donor wants a promise. Someone wants my time like they can buy it.
When I finally break free, I head straight to Harlee’s circle.
Up close, it’s the details that get me. The glow of her skin. The scent of her—soft, addictive. The way she speaks. The kind of confidence you can’t fake—only grow into.
I stop at the edge of the group, voice low, warm. “Good evening.”
Harlee turns, eyes landing on me, and for half a second the room drops away. Her smile blooms like she can’t help it, then she reins it in fast, professional muscle memory still strong.
“Mr. James. Mr. Wilde. I mean… James. Wilde.” She clears her throat, cheeks faintly pink. “This is… spectacular. I’ve never been to Monte Carlo, but this has to be close.”
Her humor is a lifeline. Always.
Wynter watches me like she’s taking notes.
Lori’s grin says she’s already writing her group chat recap.
Kelley gives his best co-CEO smile. “Ladies and gentleman.”
Keoni is there too, towering, solid, the kind of presence that makes men square up without realizing it. I shake his hand.
“Thanks again for the invite, James” Keoni says. “It’s an honor.”
“August,” I correct. “And you’re our guest. No pressure to donate unless you feel inspired.”
Harlee’s eyes flick to mine, amused, like she knows exactly how many people have tried to corner me tonight.
We do the polite dance for thirty seconds. Gala talk. Auction talk. The kind of conversation that keeps the machine humming.
Then Kelley—because restraint has never been his ministry—finally turns to Wynter like he’s stepping into a spotlight.
“Wynter, right?” His smile is effortless. Dangerous. “Kelley Wilde. Visionary. Charmer. Probably the best decision you’ll make tonight.”
Wynter’s smile is soft. Polite.
Her eyes? Not at all.
“Should I call you an ambulance?”
Harlee chokes on a laugh. Lori makes a delighted little oh? noise.
Kelley pauses, just a beat. “Damn. That bad?”
“You sound winded,” Wynter says, glancing him over like she’s assessing damage. “I figured it was all that hot air.”
I press my lips together.
Kelley exhales through a grin, resetting like a pro. “Okay. You got range. I respect it.”
Wynter tilts her head, unimpressed. “Respect? That what you call it when you’re losing?”
Harlee turns away, shoulders shaking.
Kelley lifts his glass slightly, eyes locked on Wynter now. Engaged. “Careful. I might start thinking you like me.”
“And I might start thinking you believe that,” Wynter fires back, smooth as silk.
That one lands clean.
Kelley laughs—low, real this time—dragging a hand across his jaw. “Yeah… I see the problem now.”
“You don’t,” Wynter says lightly. “But I admire the confidence.”
He leans in just enough to make it intentional. “I’ve been told it’s one of my better qualities.”
“By who?” she asks, quick. “Other men?”
Harlee loses it, covering her mouth.
Kelley rocks back, laughing fully now. “Alright, alright. You win. For now.”
Wynter lets that sit. Then, just a fraction softer—almost generous—
“Good. For your sake.” A small pause. “I’d hate to embarrass you at your own event.”
Lori claps once, fully entertained. “Okay, wow. Even I need a minute after that. Ladies room?”
Keoni leans in, muttering something in Lori’s ear that makes her choke on her own laugh, cheeks warming.
Wynter just hooks her arm through Lori’s like nothing happened. “I'll join you,” she announces, already steering her away to sharpen her claws..
Harlee starts to follow, then hesitates, eyes flicking to me like she’s asking permission without asking. Consent doesn’t always look like a “yes.” Sometimes it’s a pause. A check-in. A choice.
I give her a small nod. I’m not going to trap you.
Wynter clocking it all, of course, lifts a hand at me. “Don’t be greedy, August. She’s my date tonight.”
“I owe you,” I tell her, and I mean it.
Wynter’s gaze slides to Kelley. “Kelley.”
Just his name. Dry. Sharp. Somehow still warm.
Then they’re gone, swallowed by the crowd.
Harlee stays behind.
For one beat, it’s just us and Kelley pretending he’s not listening while he absolutely is.
Harlee’s fingers hover near her clutch. Her breath is steady, but her eyes are bright like she’s balancing ten thoughts at once.
I step closer, careful. Not cornering. Not claiming. Just closing distance.
“You look beautiful,” I say quietly. In my head, the words come in Spanish first. You’re dangerous, mami. Out loud, I keep it simple. Public-safe. Her-first.
Her smile wobbles like she’s trying not to be moved. “Thank you.”
“What I really want,” I add, voice low, “is to spend the night with you. Not… like that.” A quick glance at the room, the cameras, the politics. “I mean side by side. Let them meet you. Let you work the room the way you do.”
Her throat bobs. “I’m not great at working rooms.”
“That’s not true.” I soften my tone. “You’re great at people when you let yourself be. You just hate the performance part.”
She exhales, a small laugh. “I do hate the performance part.”
“I know.” My gaze holds hers. “But you belong here, Harlee. Not because of me. Because you earned your seat.”
That lands. I see it in her face, the way her shoulders loosen like she’s letting the compliment settle somewhere deeper than vanity.
“And if you don’t want to work the whole room,” I add, “pick one conversation. One introduction. That’s it. You don’t have to do more than you want.”
Her eyes soften. “You’re… being very CEO right now.”
“I’m being very me,” I correct, and she smiles, real.
Kelley clears his throat like he’s allergic to sincerity. “Wow. Look at you, bro. Coaching.”
Harlee rolls her eyes at him, then looks back at me. “I’m glad I came.”
"So am I."
I don’t touch her again. I want to. God, I want to. But tonight isn’t about taking. It’s about giving her space to shine without my hands making it about us.
“You ready?” I ask.
She nods once, like she’s bracing, like she’s choosing. “Yeah. Let’s do one conversation.”
“Good.” I turn slightly, offering her my side, not my grip. “Walk with me.”
She steps in beside me.
And for the first time all night, the frustration in my chest eases, because this is what I’ve been chasing through a blizzard of interruptions. Not her body. Not a secret. Just her presence.
Kelley falls in on my other side, muttering, “If Wynter roasts me again, I’m suing.”
I smirk. “You’d lose.”
He points at me. “You’re supposed to be on my team.”
“I am,” I say, eyes forward, snow still falling somewhere outside these walls. “That’s why I’m telling you the truth.”
Harlee lets out a quiet laugh, and it’s small, but it’s mine to hear.
The night isn’t getting easier.
It’s getting more real.
And complicated never looked so good on us.
She adjusts my tie, noticing the perfect color match.
“Sage green?”
I wink. “Matches my eyes.”
“How’d you know what I was wearing?”
“Dani works for me, remember? I had her coordinate. I knew I wouldn’t get much time with you tonight—but I wanted you to know I’m always thinking about you.”
Her smile turns sly. “Bold move. You trying to get laid?”
“Is it working?”
She laughs, all light and heat. “Enjoy your evening, Mr. James.”
And then she’s gone—slipping through the crowd like she owns the room, hips swaying just enough to be disrespectful.
I exhale low. “Damn…”
I hate to see her go… but I’m definitely an ass man.
I watch her walk away like I’m listening to my favorite song play out—knowing I should let it end, but not quite ready to.
“Well,” I say to Kelley.
His grin is crooked and dazed. “Man... I think she loves me.”
I laugh.
Yeah.
This night just got a whole lot more interesting.