Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Ivy
Dane slows to a stop outside the glass facade of the Met.
He swings out of his low seat, tossing his keys to a tuxedo-wearing valet.
The entrance glows under a canopy of light.
A red carpet unfurls from the doors, spilling into a sea of black tuxedos and glittering gowns.
Paparazzi loiter, waiting for a sighting of any high-profile celebrity.
I stall for half a second, tugging at the satin at my hip, suddenly too aware of where I am and who’s watching.
Dane offers a steadying hand as I slide out of the car as elegantly as possible in four-inch heels and tight satin.
Even with heels, my five-three height is no match for his imposing frame.
His hand finds the hollow of my back as he guides me forward.
It’s nothing more than a light touch, but every nerve in my body reacts as if it’s more.
Inside, the ballroom is a masterpiece, crystal light fixtures casting light over a live orchestra, servers gliding past with trays of champagne and oysters balanced on silver.
In here, among his colleagues and rivals, Dane is the version of the man I first met.
Ruthless control. That hard shell nothing can penetrate.
As much as I feared this version of him, there’s something magnetic about watching him slip into it, like seeing a predator step onto open ground.
A challenge you know you’ll lose, and still can’t help leaning towards.
He’s in his element; that subtle shift in his posture like a switch flipped.
This is his arena.
His kingdom.
And I’m the unexpected guest.
A toy at his disposal, already learning what it costs to lose to him.
His hand stays at my back, thumb brushing along the strip of bare skin where jewels glint under the light. It’s possessive and protective all at once, and I hate how much my body yearns for it.
A cluster of investors converges near the bar—men who look like they could buy and sell continents before breakfast. Sharks in tuxedos, smiles too white. Too calculating.
“Black,” one of them calls out, a red-headed woman dripping in diamonds on his arm. “Word is you cleaned up at Bexley. Half of us lost a small fortune when that stock tanked.”
Dane’s smile is faint but razor-sharp. “Shame, Fergus, you always underestimate me. But if you’re that desperate, I’ll set you up with a GoFundMe.”
A ripple of tight laughter passes through the circle. Another man, slick and younger, leans in. “So what’s next for you, Dane? You’ve already made the rest of us look bad this quarter. Surely you can give us a hint.”
“Careful,” Dane says lightly. “Keep fishing, and I’ll have to start billing by the hour.”
They chuckle again, but the tension doesn’t ease. Everyone’s still measuring, calculating, waiting for him to slip.
The redhead on Fergus’ arm lets her gaze sweep over me like I’m another asset on Dane’s balance sheet. “And where did you find this pretty thing?” she asks, syrupy-sweet.
Before Dane can answer, I smile sweetly. “Oh, he didn’t find me. He coerced me into it.”
The laughter that follows is too loud, too knowing, the kind that assumes it’s irony.
Women flock to Dane. I’m not blind; I don’t miss the gazes flicking towards him from all corners of the room.
Curious. Assessing. Hungry. Dane’s fingers press firmer at my spine, a warning that only I can feel.
“Coerced?” he murmurs against my ear, voice low enough to scrape against my nerves. “We’ll revisit that word. Later.”
I shoot him my most innocent smile, which just stokes the flames. Christ almighty, the look he flashes me could melt the panties off any woman. Mine too, if they weren’t already in his pocket.
When the laughter dies, an older man beside him, with silver hair and eyes that have seen it all, slaps his back. “I’ve waited years to see if Dane Black has a weakness,” he says. “Looks like I finally found one.”
“Oh yeah,” Dane says, jaw tightening, his fingers brushing my hip in a slow tease. The older man just winks at me like we’re in on a secret joke. I laugh too brightly, taking a large mouthful of champagne. Hell, I really shouldn’t poke the bear, but sometimes I just can’t help myself.
As one cluster moves on, it’s quickly replaced by another row of suits, all eager to talk shop—M&A, which I’m pretty sure is not a boy band, volatility, things that sound like chess pieces moving on invisible boards.
I stand there, nodding when someone looks my way, my champagne flute a prop I cling to like a lifeline. A man in a midnight tux steps forward, grinning like he’s old money personified. “Heard Julian couldn’t make it tonight—Frankfurt deal, right? You two still running the table over there?”
Dane’s easy smile slides back into place. “Something like that.”
Desperate for some breathing space, I waggle my glass and point toward the bar. “I’m going for a refill.”
Dane’s eyes cut to me instantly. “Planning on escaping?”
“Don’t give me ideas.” I grin as I turn away, his fingers brushing my waist as if he doesn’t quite trust himself to let me go.
I slip through a mob of tuxedos and silk gowns, through laughter that sounds rehearsed and constant chatter of portfolios and private jets. The farther away I get, the weight in my chest starts to lift.
The bar is tucked into the corner of the ballroom, dimmer than the rest of the room, the conversation low enough to finally breathe in. I order a vodka soda with lime and let the chill of the glass steady me as I take a few slow breaths.
“First gala?” a warm voice says beside me, lilting with amusement.
“That obvious?” I say, turning to find a beautiful woman with dark blonde hair, flawless bone structure, and green eyes that look like they’ve seen too much and gotten away with all of it.
She smiles. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to interrogate you. I’m Violet.”
“Oh, hi,” I say, pleased to see a friendly face. “I’m Ivy.”
She clinks her glass against mine. “So you’re Dane’s date.”
There’s a teasing edge in her tone, but no malice.
“I guess that’s one way to put it.”
Her brows lift, mischief sparking. “I’ve heard if you cut Dane Black, he doesn’t bleed. What’s it like being his date? Hazard pay included?”
A laugh slips out before I cage it. “Honestly? The jury’s still out. He’s... complicated.”
Violet studies me for a beat, a knowing glint in her eye. “Complicated is usually code for dangerous and irresistible. Trust me, I’ve met his type.”
“I’m not sure there’s anyone like him,” I muse. “It’s like standing too close to the fire. Hot, fascinating but liable to burn at any moment.”
She tilts her head. “Careful, that’s how it starts.”
I smile, half because she’s right and half because I don’t know what else to do.
From across the room, I spot Dane watching—jacket off now, sleeves rolled, tie undone, eyes locked on me like I’m the only thing he sees.
Violet follows my gaze and smirks into her drink. “Oh yes,” she murmurs, “you’re in big trouble.”
She turns, smile widening as a man who’s too damn handsome for his own good slides a hand over her shoulder, fingers brushing lightly against the curve of her neck. There’s a quiet protectiveness in the gesture.
“This is my husband, Chase,” Violet says. “Chase, this is Ivy.”
His handshake is firm, assessing. “You’re here with Dane Black?”
Something flashes in his eyes—a glint of recognition, maybe warning. The kind men like him share when another shark is mentioned.
“Yes,” I say carefully.
“Interesting,” Chase says, a small, knowing smile forming. “He’s... a unique investment.”
Violet nudges him gently. “Don’t scare her off.”
Chase smirks but says nothing more, just lets his thumb drift absently over Violet’s shoulder.
I startle when I feel firm hands on my waist from behind.
“Don’t listen to a word this man says...” Dane’s voice rumbles at my ear. “Violet did, and look what happened to her.” Dane extends his arm to Chase, shaking it warmly, mutual respect clear in the gesture.
Violet’s cheeks flush as she pats her stomach. It’s only then I notice the beautiful swell in her belly.
“Oh, congratulations,” I say, while Chase beams proudly at her side.
“I was just telling Ivy how you love to knit in your spare time, Dane.” Chase’s eyes sparkle as Violet snorts into her drink. “He’s even kindly offered to make us some baby booties.”
I can’t help the laugh that breaks free with the image he’s planted.
“The only needles I’ll be going anywhere near,” Dane fires back with the same spark. “Is the one I’ll be shoving up your ass.”
“Promises, promises...” Chase raises a brow, lips twitching.
Violet shakes her head with amusement, reaching for Chase’s hand as she slides off the stool.
“Anyway, as much as I’d love to stay and discuss baby booties,” Violet says. “My body can’t seem to stay awake past nine pm, so enjoy the rest of the night.”
“It was great to meet you, and congratulations again,” I say as they drift back into the crowd, Chase’s arm protectively around her waist.
Dane’s hand finds my back again, and immediately, electric tingles ripple across my skin.
“It’s dinner now, are you hungry?” Dane says, his eyes darkening, like he feels this pull between us as strongly as I do.
We move to a long table where servers glide between guests carrying plates that look more like art than food—seared scallops, truffle risotto, and something delicate involving edible gold.
The orchestra swells softly in the background as Dane chats with a gentleman to his right.
I’m sitting next to an older lady who barely takes a breath as she gossips about everyone in attendance.
Who has just splashed out one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars on a 'Kris Jenner' facelift.
How so-and-so is screwing her personal trainer.
How Miles got caught with his pants down at the Serpent.
It would be fascinating if I knew who any of these people are.