Page 32 of Best In Class (Savannah's Best #7)

Dom

T he plans for the Minton Memorial Hospital are almost final. We’ve been refining details for weeks—fire exits, airflow, material specs, energy metrics—and everything is clicking into place.

We’re on the cusp of locking it down, with the foundation scheduled for late fall. The weather in Savannah gets unpredictable around hurricane season, and we agreed it made more sense to pour concrete when we wouldn’t be racing the rain every other day.

We are planning for patience. Tommy doesn’t give a damn when the foundation will be laid. All he cares about is showing the world what he’s doing.

He wants a press preview, a.k.a. a dog-and-pony show.

He wants to flaunt his good works to donors and friends with checkbooks and egos twice the size of the hospital wings, which is why Luna and I are meeting him, Camy, his PR people, that clown Jason Marquez, and a fucking photographer.

Luna’s eyes flicker with irritation. This is the part of the project that interests her the least.

I had to drag her to this meeting. Tommy would much prefer I did this alone, because God forbid someone without a penis would be leading a project he was funding out of the goodness of his heart . More his ego than his heart, but that was true for many of the clients I worked with.

I have no clue what Camy is doing here, but she’s spending her time flashing dirty looks at me like I kicked her dog.

This is the definition of a clusterfuck.

And then it gets worse.

“I think it would be best if Dominic takes the lead at the press preview,” Tommy’s PR person, Helena Houston, drawls in her very Texan accent. “Luna can be… support .”

She says the word like it’s a four-letter one.

My blood goes hot with anger.

“I don’t know if you know this, Helena, but Luna is the lead architect on this project.” I keep my tone easy. It’s the start of the meeting, there’s plenty of time for me to sharpen my attitude.

Tommy glares at me.

Luna also glares at me.

Their reasons are different, but I’m still the receiver of their wrath.

Tommy wants a man—I mean, he’s even fine with a half-black man over a white woman. Give the man the DEI Champion Of The Year award.

Misogynistic bastard!

Luna hates anything to do with the press and is happy to hand this nonsense to me so she can do the real work. Since this is how women get sidelined, I’m not going to let her sneak off.

Helena blinks, surprised, not used to a man saying he doesn’t want the limelight. “But?—”

“Luna has carried this entire project on her back. She knows every screw, every dimension, every regulation by heart,” I cut her off. “The truth is, Helena, I am support.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “Luna, I’d much rather Dom take the lead in the press. He’s the award winner.”

Before Luna can even lift her chin to respond, I do. “ No ,” I say emphatically.

Luna gives me an exasperated look that says, ‘ fuck you, Dominic Calder .’

I give her a look that says, ‘ suck it up buttercup .’

She’s not impressed.

Neither is Tommy. “Excuse me?” he snaps.

“I said no .” I ease back into my chair. Those who don’t know me would say he’s chill , those who do will say someone is getting ready to have their ass kicked. “If Luna doesn’t lead this, I’m out. I’ll walk.”

“Dom,” Luna says quietly, a warning and a plea.

“Luna,” I say, looking straight at Tommy, “one doesn’t hire a world-class architect and ask them to sit quietly while the man talks. You’re leading. Or Tommy can find someone else for this dog-and-pony press show.”

Yeah, now I’m showing my sharpened claws, with relish.

Tommy’s nostrils flare.

I know his type. He’s probably calculating what it would cost to replace me. How would he explain that he lost the Pritzker Prize-winning architect? And what the hell will he do when I tell everyone who’ll listen that he wanted to push a woman out simply because she is one.

He huffs, nods once. “Fine. You two can co-present .”

“Not co ,” I state, “ Luna presents . I’ll be there, standing behind her and supporting her if needed. It probably won’t be needed.”

There are plenty of protests from Tommy, Camy, Helena, and Jason. I stand my ground through all of it by stating just one fact— Luna is the lead architect on the project .

Ultimately, I win, but no one is happy, no one but me, that is, and maybe Luna, who gets the point even if it means she needs to get out of her comfort zone.

When the meeting ends, Tommy demands that I join him in his office.

“Good luck,” Luna whispers mockingly as she brushes past me.

I blow her a kiss and a smirk.

Tommy’s office is an oversized, wood-paneled monstrosity meant to intimidate, and designed to have men sit in leather chairs and talk down to people who’ve actually done the work.

I walk in like I own the goddamn place.

As a black man, I’ve walked into more rooms than I can count, where I was the odd one out.

Early in my career, it made me angry and deeply insecure.

Being judged, dismissed, or underestimated because of the color of my skin isn’t just personal; it’s generational.

It’s not only about me—it’s about all of us who weren’t born into privilege.

Carrying that weight, constantly proving my worth in spaces not built for me, has been exhausting.

But it’s also made me stronger. It’s given me the resolve to speak up, to stand my ground, and to fight for what matters most.

Now that I’m older and wiser, I navigate it without anger or insecurity. I work with it, around it, and through it. I honor who I am without letting the weight of discrimination define how I move through the world.

Anger and insecurity are wasteful emotions—they drain me and lead nowhere.

I can’t change the mind of a racist or a misogynist, and honestly, I don’t want to.

What I want is to make sure their behavior doesn’t harm the people who deserve better.

I want to shield, support, and fight smart, especially for those who should never have to fight at all.

Tommy closes the door behind me with a hard thud. Any second now he’s going to stomp his feet like a red-faced toddler, I think, amused .

He doesn’t disappoint when he demands, “What the hell was that?”

I sit in one of his client chairs, giving him the perception of advantage since he’s standing. “That was me making sure you don’t walk into a press preview with a scandal waiting to happen.”

He’s taken aback, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

I drop a smile I use on billionaires who think they’re the smartest person in the room.

“You want donors, Tommy? Media coverage? Legacy?” I ask, gesturing toward the blueprint of the hospital framed behind his desk. “Then you better think twice before publicly pushing a woman out of the spotlight on the biggest hospital project Savannah’s seen in years.”

He scoffs and sits behind his desk. “No one’s pushing her out?—”

“You’re suggesting I lead. That’s pushing her out,” I interrupt smoothly. “And the press will notice. They already know Luna Steele was awarded the contract. She’s the face of Savannah Lace. Try to walk that back now, won’t be a good look.”

He crosses his arms. “No one cares about this woke crap.”

I drop my smile. “No, but everyone cares about optics.” Including you, you motherfucker. “And you’ll look like the dinosaur who sidelined a woman to stroke his own ego.”

“Donors don’t give a damn.”

“Oh, but they do,” I reply, voice even softer now. “Because donors hate bad press. And your name being dragged through the Savannah Tribune and picked up by every female-led architecture publication in the Southeast? Not the kind of attention you want, Tommy.”

His jaw ticks.

“And let’s not forget,” I add, “that you’re trying to sideline a woman who also happens to be Luna Steele.

As in, daughter of an old Savannah family who still has enough pull to make headlines when someone sneezes.

And whose boss, Nina Davenport, filed the most public divorce Savannah’s seen in two decades.

You think going head-to-head with women like that is going to lead to victory?

You think you can win that kind of PR war? ”

He doesn’t say anything, which is the smartest thing he’s done since we came into his office.

“I don’t like it,” he finally grinds out, like each word is billing him by the hour at some overpriced architecture firm.

“You don’t have to.” I rise, tower over him, and take my advantage.

“Here is some free advice, take it or leave it. Underestimating women in 2025 and thinking the world still works the way it did in 1980 is not going to win you any points with anyone, especially not me. Fucking with Luna Steele will bring you grief. Fucking with Nina Davenport will bring you war.”

His mouth opens. Shuts.

“I’ll be standing behind Luna,” I say over my shoulder as I walk to the door.

“Literally and figuratively. You want to build a hospital that matters? Let her lead. And enjoy the press coverage when the stories start running with headlines about how Minton Memorial is setting a new standard in hospital design and social consciousness.”

I open the door and stop when I hear him bark my name. I hold the door and face him.

“You think you’re some hot shit because you won an award.” There is ugliness in his eyes now—one I have seen many, many times.

“No, Tommy, I don’t think I’m hot shit. I think I’m a decent human being and a good architect. I also think you need to be careful about how you talk to me.”

I stay calm and smooth. There’s no fire in my voice, but rather the kind of quiet storm that leaves the room rearranged. He just doesn’t know that, but he will.

“And why is that?” he asks insolently.

“Because people like me more than they like you. They like Lev Steele and Gabe Rhodes and Noah Carter, and Anson LaRue more than they like you. And those men stand behind me, a hundred percent. Don’t make me call Betsy Rhodes and let her know what you’re trying to do to her daughter-in-law’s best friend. ”

Savannah society is built on who knows whom.

I’m friends with the highest echelons of the city, both in terms of money, heritage, and reputation.

I don’t use it unless I have to—and in this case, I know that my friends expect me to name-drop as required to protect Luna, to not allow her to be pushed aside simply because she’s a woman.

And, as threats go, this one is solid. Betsy Rhodes, Gabe’s mama, is Savannah royalty. She can destroy reputations and exclude people from society with a flick of a finger.

For a hospital like the one Tommy is building, having Betsy badmouth it will be a disaster. His donors will flee. The press will drop him like a hot potato. He knows that.

Seeing that my threat has landed the way I intended for it to, I smile politely like a Southern gentleman. “You have a nice rest of your day, Tommy.”

And then I leave.

Luna is waiting for me in the shade outside the Minton building. She’s on her phone talking to someone. She finishes her call when she sees me.

She raises an eyebrow. “You alive?”

“Did you doubt it?”

She gives me a wickedly pleased look. “Nah.”

I lean down and brush my lips against hers. She’s still wary of us being close physically in a work situation. I don’t give a shit. I lived for too many years without her, and now I’m not going to let any distance build between us.

“Tommy Minton is easy to handle. There are others who are much, much harder.”

“Like who?” she asks, a twinkle in her eyes.

“You, Moonbeam.”

She arches an eyebrow and says coyly, “You want to handle me, Calder?”

“No, ma’am. I want to love you.”

She flushes. “Let’s get back to Savannah Lace, yeah?”

I kiss her again.

Because I can.

Because she’s mine.

Because I’m hers.