“Agreed.” I rise and clasp his hand, feeling good that it had gone better than expected.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he calls.
The door opens. “Sorry to interrupt, Gabriel. I’ve teed up a call with the Burbank group in twenty min?—”
His words die as I turn. The voice had hit me first. Then the accent. Now, facing him, there’s no doubt.
For a split second, my body forgets how to exist. Sounds are dull. The air is thin. It feels like I’m watching someone else’s life combust from a distance.
DK stands in the doorway. Taupe suit, pocket square, broad shoulders filling the frame. Gorgeous. Professional. In control.
The only tell of surprise was the abrupt pause when he first saw me. Meanwhile, my pulse is pounding so hard I’m afraid they can hear it.
Keep your shit together. If I survived finding sexting messages on that bitch ass Hollis’ phone, I can survive this.
I force my face into something I hope is neutral as Diablo makes the introductions.
“This is Rayne Webber. I mentioned she heads the Waterfront Committee.”
DK nods.
“Rayne, this is Dakarai Ramos. My Expansion Director and campaign strategist.”
The titles blur under his name.
Dakarai.
Dah-car-rye.
DK.
The man I fucked at the Aqua Hotel. The man I actually connected with. The man who made me want more than just one night.
How the hell is this happening?
“It’s a pleasure, Rayne,” he says, like I’m a stranger. I work hard to match his ease.
“Um… yes. A pleasure.”
He doesn’t move closer. Thank God. If he touched me right now, I might unravel in front of them.
“Rayne was just informing me that she’s decided to run against me,” Diablo says.
There’s a pause, a stunned flicker. But it vanishes as quickly as it came. “Congratulations.”
How is he this calm? This collected? Then it clicks—everything Anika said about the D.C. bigwig. Lawyer. Politically savvy. A man who knows how to check his emotions at the door and focus on the outcome.
I’m the only one bleeding from this shock.
I need to get out of here.
“Gabriel, I’ll leave you to prepare for your call.” I quickly grab my purse. “Thank you for your time. I trust we can maintain a cordial and respectful relationship.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replies smoothly.
I smile back—tight, forced. “Have a good day.”
