Chapter 386: December evenings
The hem of the emerald dress shimmered faintly each time I shifted under the soft glow of Ash’s vanity lights, the kind of green that caught fire when it moved... deep and liquid, like forest shadows swallowing sunlight.
One of the designers crouched behind me, pinning a final adjustment to the slit that climbed daringly high along my thigh, while another fussed over the curve of the neckline that dipped lower than I was brave enough to admit.
I stared at my reflection and for a long, disorienting second, didn’t recognize her... the woman in the mirror with the glass-cut posture and the soft, knowing eyes rimmed in gold dust. Despite losing so many people she never thought she would in just a year... she looked... untouchable. Like she’d learned to hold her chin high even when her heart felt heavy.
"God, Aria," Ash said from the chaise behind me, legs crossed, a glass of white wine in hand. "If Kael doesn’t combust when he sees you tonight, I’ll personally start questioning his mortality."
I smiled, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. "He’s seen me dressed up many times before."
"Not like this," she said, her grin sharp, her gaze tracing the silhouette of the gown. "You like the beauty men go to war for."
I laughed... a little too softly, a little too late. "That’s Comforting."
She raised a brow, studying me over the rim of her glass. "You should be happy. You’ve survived another year, you’re about to show up looking like a fever dream, and you have the billionaire boyfriend every gossip column is still convinced you tamed."
"I am happy," I said, though the words caught somewhere between truth and ache. Because I was. Mostly. The dress was beautiful. The night felt golden. But underneath it all... that familiar heaviness lingered, the dull ache of something unresolved. Sarah’s face kept flickering behind my ribs like a half-burnt memory.
I missed her. God, I missed her.
Even after everything, even after her betrayal cracked something I hadn’t realized was so fragile, I still caught myself wanting to call her, to tell her about the dress, about the event, about Kael.
But then I remembered the way she’d looked that night... how the words she’d said had sliced through the trust I’d built my world on and I forced myself to stand a little straighter. I wasn’t going to fold. Not tonight at least.
I was halfway lost in thought when my phone buzzed against the vanity table. His name.
"Hey," I breathed, already smiling.
"Hey yourself," Kael’s voice rumbled through the line... that low, lazy drawl that always found a way to melt straight into my spine. "How’s my woman doing?"
I rolled my eyes, though my pulse jumped. "Busy being stabbed by pins. What about you?"
"Trying not to imagine what you look like right now," he said, his tone shifting, teasing. "But I’m failing. Tell me."
I laughed, biting back a grin. "You’ll see soon enough."
"I don’t think I can wait that long," he murmured. "If I had my way, I’d already have you to myself, in that dress... or maybe out of it."
"Kael," I warned, laughing as Ash groaned audibly from the couch.
He chuckled. "What? It’s not my fault I can’t keep my hands off you."
"And you plan to test that in front of everyone we work with?" I teased.
He paused, a smile curling through the silence. "Firefly, when have I ever cared what they think? They all get a paycheck because of me. I’ll touch what’s mine."
I felt my cheeks heat, caught between indignation and something far warmer. "Kael..."
"I’ll make sure everyone knows," he went on, softer this time, that dangerous tenderness threading through his voice. "Every shareholder, every guest... they’ll know every part of me belong to you."
The words landed somewhere deep and shaky inside me, and before I could stop myself, I whispered, "I love you."
A beat. Then his voice dropped, playful. "What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you."
"Don’t you start," I said, half-laughing, half-flustered.
"Then say it again," he teased, "so I can believe it."
"You’re impossible."
"Only for you."
I sighed, smiling helplessly. "You’ll just have to wait and hear it in person."
He hummed lowly. "Then hurry, firefly. I’ll be waiting."
I hung up before he could say anything else, the sound of my own heartbeat louder than the room around me.
Ash, who’d been pretending not to listen, made a gagging noise. "You two are disgusting."
"You’re just jealous."
"Of what? Being in love with someone who could buy the moon if he got bored? Absolutely not." She downed the rest of her wine, smirking. "Though I’ll admit, you make it look cinematic."
I threw a brush at her, and she caught it, laughing.
The city blurred past in ribbons of light... gold and silver streaks reflected in the rain-slicked streets, the kind of December evening that felt unreal. Buildings shimmered with Christmas lights, garlands curled around lampposts, and every window we passed spilled warmth into the cold air.
Ash’s car hummed quietly beneath us, the leather seats soft, her perfume sharp and grounding. She was a vision herself... burgundy suit tailored within an inch of perfection, now completely dyed black hair slicked back, mouth painted a deep plum. She looked like sin in human form.
"Still nervous?" she asked without looking at me.
"Not nervous," I said softly. "Just... thoughtful."
"About Sarah?"
I hesitated. "Yeah."
Ash nodded once, eyes flicking toward me before returning to the road. "You’ll figure it out. Or you won’t. Either way, you’ll survive it. You always do."
The words lingered long after she said them, threading through the silence as the skyline came into view... the Grandview Hotel gleaming ahead, its arched windows spilling golden light into the night.
The moment we stepped through the revolving doors, the world shifted.
Warmth. Music. The hum of laughter and conversation blending beneath the crystal glow of chandeliers that hung like constellations overhead. The ballroom stretched wide and breathtaking, every inch of it drenched in elegance... white linen tables crowned with golden ornaments, evergreen garlands curling along the marble banisters, a towering Christmas tree sparkling in the corner.
I stopped for a moment at the threshold, the sight stealing my breath.
It was beautiful... painfully, impossibly beautiful. The kind of beauty that made you stand a little taller, made you question if you belonged in it at all... until you realized you did. Because somehow, you’d earned this moment.
Ash looped her arm through mine, squeezing gently. "Ready to make an entrance?"
"Do I have a choice?"
She grinned. "Nope. Come on, let’s show these corporate lambs what real beauty looks like."
And so we did.
We walked through those doors together... two women against a sea of glittering power... and for the first time that night, I felt something bright flicker beneath my ribs. Hope, maybe. Or something dangerously close to it.