Delilah

Chapter 7: Another Easy Win

By Monday morning, Delilah had already moved on.

Not from Kevin Veyron.

She wasn’t stupid enough to forget the biggest contract Aurelia had seen in months. That folder still sat at the corner of her desk, untouched since Friday, waiting for her to have something new to add to it.

But she had learned something during their last meeting.

Kevin wasn’t going to be impressed by confidence alone.

Fine.

She could work with that.

She had spent most of the weekend proving it to herself, going over every note she had taken in his office, every flat, unimpressed line he had delivered without so much as raising his voice. It should have bothered her more than it did. Instead it had settled into something closer to determination, the kind she hadn’t felt about a client in years. The memory of his steady gaze still lingered in places it shouldn’t, low in her stomach, warm beneath her skin whenever she let herself think about the way he had watched her without ever truly looking.

What she couldn’t tolerate was sitting around waiting for him to decide whether she was good enough.

There were other clients.

Other contracts.

Other opportunities.

And Delilah intended to remind everyone at Aurelia exactly why Daniel Reed had trusted her with Veyron in the first place. Waiting for Kevin to make up his mind was not the same as doing nothing. She had never once, in three years, let a single account gather dust just because a bigger one was taking longer than expected.

Her assistant placed a folder on her desk.

“Another potential client.”

Delilah barely looked up from her computer. The soft silk of her blouse shifted with the movement, the open collar framing the gentle rise of her breasts as she breathed. “Who?”

“Blackwell & Hart.”

That got her attention.

She opened the folder, one leg crossed over the other beneath the desk, the soft fabric of her skirt sliding higher along her thigh with the quiet shift of her body.

Blackwell & Hart was a mid-sized luxury property development firm with several new projects around Manhattan. Their expansion plans were ambitious, but compared with Veyron Holdings, the account was almost laughably small.

Delilah scanned the figures, thumb resting lightly against the edge of the page.

“That’s it?”

Her assistant blinked. “That’s it.”

“Projected contract value?”

“About three million.”

Delilah leaned back in her chair, the movement slow and liquid. The soft silk of her blouse pulled taut for a moment across her chest. Three million wasn’t pocket change. For Aurelia, it was a respectable contract. But after spending the weekend studying a company worth billions, three million felt almost microscopic. Still, a contract was a contract, and she had built her reputation on never treating a smaller account like it didn’t matter. Blackwell & Hart didn’t know they were small in her eyes. They just knew Aurelia was sending its best.

“When is the meeting?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

Delilah closed the folder with a soft, deliberate motion. “Fine.”

Her assistant smiled. “You sound disappointed.”

“I’m not disappointed.” She picked up her coffee, the ceramic warm against her palm, and took a slow sip.

She spent the rest of the day splitting her attention between the two accounts, sketching out a strategy for Blackwell & Hart in the margins of a notepad while the Veyron file sat open on her second screen. It was a strange kind of relief, honestly, working on something she already knew how to win. Blackwell & Hart wanted exactly what most companies wanted. Growth, visibility, a partner who could make their next move look effortless. Delilah had solved that particular puzzle so many times it barely required thought anymore. Every so often her mind drifted back to Kevin, his unreadable eyes, the controlled way he had spoken, the quiet challenge that still sat warm and low in her stomach and she would shift in her chair, the soft fabric of her skirt whispering against her thighs, before forcing her attention back to the easier numbers in front of her.

The following afternoon, Delilah walked into Blackwell & Hart’s headquarters with a proposal that had taken her less than twenty-four hours to prepare. She didn’t need to rehearse this one the way she had rehearsed her pitch to Kevin. She simply walked in, heels clicking softly, hips rolling with that familiar, deliberate sway, the tailored lines of her suit hugging the full curve of her ass and the long line of her thighs and did what she always did. She laid out the numbers, answered every question before it was fully asked, and let the room decide for itself that saying no would be a mistake.

The conference room was brighter than Kevin’s had been, more eager to impress. The men across the table watched her with the kind of open interest she was used to, eyes lingering on the soft swell of her breasts when she leaned forward, on the slow cross of her legs when she sat back, on the deliberate way her mouth moved when she spoke. She let them look. She always did. It cost her nothing and usually gained her everything.

By the time she walked out ninety minutes later, she had a signed agreement.

No second meeting.

No negotiation that lasted for weeks.

No endless emails.

Just results.

Her phone rang before she even reached the elevator.

“Daniel.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s done.”

There was a pause. “Already?”

Delilah smiled, the expression soft and private, one hand resting lightly against the cool metal of the elevator frame. “Did you expect anything else?”

Daniel laughed. “Three million dollars in one afternoon.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Enjoy the win.”

“I intend to.”

She ended the call, already feeling the familiar, satisfied hum that came after closing a deal cleanly. It never got old, that feeling. It was the one part of the job that hadn’t changed since her very first contract, the quiet heat of victory settling low in her stomach, warm and certain.

The elevator doors opened.

Before she could step inside, a voice came from behind her.

“Ms. Delilah.”

She turned.

The managing director of Blackwell & Hart, Jonathan Blackwell, approached with a smile. He was attractive in the polished, careful way most men in his position were, good suit, good watch, eyes that already knew exactly what they wanted when they looked at her.

“I wanted to thank you personally.”

Delilah smiled politely, the expression warm enough to be inviting without promising anything. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ve worked with Aurelia before.”

“I know.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You researched us.”

“I research everyone.”

He laughed, the sound a little warmer than necessary. “I can see why they speak so highly of you.”

Delilah gave him a small smile, one hip shifting slightly so that the soft fabric of her skirt settled against her thigh. “Hopefully they speak highly enough.”

“They do.”

The elevator arrived.

Delilah stepped inside.

Jonathan remained outside, one hand resting lightly against the open door as if he might follow. “Perhaps we could have dinner sometime.”

She paused, the soft weight of the signed contract still warm against her side.

He smiled, eyes dropping for half a second to the open collar of her blouse before returning to her face. “To celebrate the partnership.”

Delilah returned the smile, but said nothing. It was a familiar enough offer, one she had heard in some form from half a dozen men after closing a deal. She wasn’t unkind about it. She just wasn’t in any hurry to answer it either. The memory of Anderson,his hands on her hips, the way he had looked at her when she took what she wanted, still sat warm and recent under her skin. She didn’t need another easy victory of that particular kind. Not yet.

The doors closed.

Only then did she glance at the signed contract in her hand.

Another win.

Easy.

Almost too easy.

There had been a time when a win like this would have been enough to carry her mood for the rest of the week. Lately it barely registered before her mind moved straight to the next problem. She wasn’t sure if that was ambition or something closer to restlessness, the quiet, persistent awareness that the only challenge still sitting open on her desk was the one man who had looked at her and refused to be impressed.

Her phone buzzed.

An email.

FROM: KEVIN VEYRON

She opened it.

Ms. Delilah,

I’ve reviewed the revised figures you submitted.

There are still several areas that require clarification.

Come prepared to discuss them tomorrow.

She stared at the screen.

Then laughed softly, the sound low and private in the empty elevator.

Of course.

Three million dollars had taken one meeting.

Kevin Veyron was making her fight for every inch.

There was no name at the bottom of the email this time, no signature, nothing beyond the request itself, as if wasting even that much space would be an inconvenience to him. She found herself almost admiring the discipline of it. Almost. The quiet heat that always followed the thought of him settled low in her stomach again, sharper this time, more deliberate.

She slipped her phone back into her bag, the soft fabric of her blouse shifting against her skin with the movement.

“Tomorrow, then.”

The elevator reached the lobby.

Delilah walked out with the Blackwell & Hart contract tucked securely beneath her arm, the weight of it a small, satisfying reminder that she hadn’t lost her touch, no matter what Kevin Veyron seemed to think. Her hips rolled with that same measured, deliberate sway as she crossed the polished floor, the soft click of her heels marking every step. Another deal secured. Another reminder of why Aurelia trusted her.

But waiting upstairs in her office was a much bigger challenge.

And for the first time, Delilah was beginning to suspect that Kevin Veyron wasn’t simply another difficult client.

He was going to make her work for the win.

She didn’t mind that nearly as much as she probably should have.