Dear Heart, Don't Fall Yet

Dear Heart, Don't Fall Yet—Chapter Two

The boardroom felt warmer than it should, sunlight pouring through the tall windows and catching on the sheen of Adanna Hailey Cole’s blush silk blouse. The soft fabric draped over her shoulders with an ease that belied the steel in her spine. Cream trousers, nude heels, and a slim gold wristwatch completed the look, while a pair of delicate pearl earrings and a matching necklace caught the light with every subtle movement—feminine, but with a sharp edge.

She didn’t just stand at the head of the table; she owned it.

The potential investors—two men in tailored suits and a woman with a diamond pen—leaned forward as she spoke. Her voice was calm and measured, but it carried that edge of precision that made people pay attention. Every word was deliberate. Her voice was steady as she walked the room through the numbers, the vision, and the story.

“...Our designs don’t just create luxury,” she said, clicking to a slide of an airy penthouse drenched in warm light."They create spaces people feel. That’s why our bookings have doubled in eighteen months.”

One of the men across the table leaned back, looking almost skeptical.

“Impressive. But can A. Hailey Luxe really handle multiple luxury projects at once without... spreading itself too thin?”

Polite words. What he really meant was, "You might not be as capable as you think."

Adanna didn’t blink. She walked to the screen, tapped a slide, and then came up—expansion timelines, revenue charts, team growth, and strategic partners.

“We’re not guessing,” she said, locking eyes with his. “We’ve built the infrastructure, secured partnerships with elite contractors, and hired the best talent in the field. Our processes aren’t strained—they’re optimized. You asked if we could do it. I’m telling you… we already are.”

A pause. Then the smile. "We're not just ready for the future. We are designing it."

The room went quiet.

Then pens clicked. Hands shook. The deal was hers. The quiet, addictive thrill of dominance curled through her.

By the time she stepped out of the boardroom, Lani Brooks was leaning against her office doorway, tablet in one hand, coffee in the other. Lani had that easy air of someone who belonged wherever she stood—and she was the one person in the company who didn’t knock before entering.

PR manager. Best friend. Keeper of several of Adanna’s secrets, some more delicate than others.

“Morning win?” Lani asked.

“Morning win,” Adanna replied, as her assistant set a cup of espresso and devices neatly on her desk.

Lani's grin widened. Then you’ll like this. "Maison+ just ran a feature on you. Big, gushing piece. I might’ve done a little happy dance in my office.”

She handed over the tablet. Adanna skimmed through glossy images of her work, glowing captions… until the last paragraph: “There’s a warmth to her designs, almost like an Ivy Belle novel.”

Her eyes paused for just a second.

“Coincidence,” Lani said smoothly, reading her face. “It’s just a name drop. Nobody's connecting dots."

Adanna forced a small smile. “Right. Just coincidence.”

Hours later, she was halfway through changing out of her work clothes when the doorbell rang. Talia Cole.

“Talia,” she said, pulling the door open to her younger sister—all smiles, a takeout bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

“You work too much,” Talia said, brushing past her like she owned the place.

“And you order too much takeout,” Adanna replied, though she was already setting plates out.

They ate at the kitchen island, cartons open, the smell of garlic and sesame filling the room. Small talk drifted easily—work, family, the usual.

"Dad still thinks you’ll come back to Cole House someday,” Talia said, eyes searching hers.

“I’m building something that’s mine,” Adanna replied quietly. “Not his.”

Talia smirked. “Sure. And yet you spend your nights writing romance under a pen name. Closet romantic."

Adanna tried to brush it off with a shake of her head. “It’s just fiction.”

Her sister’s teasing softened into something protective. “Mm-hmm. Just… be careful who you let close, okay?”

It was past midnight when Adanna sat at her desk, hair down, soft music humming in the background. She let her fingers find their rhythm on the keys, Ivy Belle’s words spilling out onto the page. Her phone buzzed—a message from Lani: Heads up. I've just scheduled a meeting with a new client—huge brand, might want to collaborate. You’ll want to lead this one personally.

Beneath it was an attachment.

Adanna clicked it open and scanned the proposal until her gaze caught on the name.

She froze.

Leaning back in her chair, she stared at the screen, unreadable.

One thing was certain: tomorrow was going to be... interesting