Page 25 of Strictly Business

“Yes, I’ll be right down.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

I hang up the phone and grab my clutch, stuffing my phone and lip gloss inside. “Nicholas’s driver is downstairs,” I tell Jade, panic rising in my chest.

“Calm down. Everything’s going to go great.” She flashes me a reassuring smile. “You look amazing.”

For once, my appearance is the least of my concerns. I shake my head, the anxiety clawing at me. “What if I embarrass him, or slip up about the engagement or—”

“Okay.” Jade stands, walking over to me and placing her hands on my shoulders in an attempt to calm me. “Breathe, woman. You’re givingmea panic attack.”

I inhale deeply, my shoulders relaxing as I blow out slowly.

“Everything will be fine,” Jade assures me. “You’re going to do great, and the board will love you so much, they’ll offer Nicholas the deal on the spot.” Her grin makes me breathe out a laugh, the knot in my stomach starting to unravel.

“Awfully confident in my skills, aren’t you?”

“I’m confident inmyskills,” she corrects, flopping back down onto the bed with a shrug. “And you look hot as hell because of me,” she adds, pointing at herself. I arch a brow, and she lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, fine. You might have a little something to do with your hotness.” She narrows her eyes. “But I take full credit for the dress.”

I shake my head, laughing. “Credit’s all yours.”

Leaning down, I kiss my cat on the head, then take one last look at myself in the mirror, adjusting my dress. The smooth fabric slides over my body, and I flip one side of my hair over my shoulder before waving Jade goodbye. She blows me a kiss in return.

As much as I love that Sophie has a loving boyfriend, I’m thankful for Jade on nights like these, to help me build the confidence I need when I’m doubting myself.

I press the elevator button, the metal doors creaking closed. My stomach twists with familiar anxiety as it lurches downward. I hold my breath, praying I don’t end up stuck in this rickety thing.

After what feels like an eternity, the doors finally open, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Stepping out, I’m greeted by the sight of asleek black Mustang parked outside. The tinted windows, which stick out like a sore thumb in this part of town, make it clear that this must be Nicholas’s driver.

The window rolls down, revealing an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, wearing a sharp black suit.

“Amara?” the driver asks.

I nod, already feeling like I’ve stepped into some bizarre dream. Or maybe it’s a reality show. This doesn’t feel real, and I’m just waiting for it to be ripped out from under me.

The driver opens the door, and I slide inside, a little unnerved by how classy everything is. This isn’t my world, and every second spent in it only makes that more obvious.

A few moments later, the driver slides into the front seat, and the car starts moving. I watch the city pass by, the lights reflecting in the windows as we drive to the gala.

Eventually, the car slows to a stop, and I glance out the window, seeing the gala entrance ahead. I suck in a breath, reaching for the door handle, only for it to be opened before I have the chance. I look up to see Nicholas standing there, dressed in a sleek tuxedo, his hand extended toward me.

“Thank you,” I murmur, my voice a little shaky as I place my hand in his. He gives me a gentle tug, helping me out of the car. The moment my feet hit the ground, my nerves kick into high gear.

Especially when Nicholas’s gaze slides over me, his eyes scanning me slowly from head to toe. The silence stretches between us, and I notice the subtle clench of his jaw as his eyes linger on me for what feels like an eternity, until they finally meet mine again.

He doesn’t speak at first, just holds my gaze. “Glad you could make it,” he finally says.

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest, wondering what the hell he’s thinking. Does he like the dress? Does he not?

The silence stretches again before he adds, “I got you something.”

My eyebrows raise, surprised, but before I can ask what it is, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a rectangle box. My breath catches as he opens it, revealing a beautiful silver necklace that sparkles, the diamonds catching the light.

“Wow,” I breathe out, completely stunned. “It’s beautiful.”

“Only fitting,” he says smoothly, “that my fiancée would wear the best.”

I absentmindedly reach up, tracing my bare décolletage, suddenly remembering I forgot to buy jewelry—which a billionaire’s fiancée definitely wouldn’t forget. A rush of warmth spreads across my face as I glance down at the luxurious piece nestled in the velvet box, realizing he expects me to wear it.

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