Page 37 of Best In Class (Savannah's Best #7)

Luna

T ime flies when you’re having fun, they say, and they’re right. My life has completely changed.

I’m still me, but a happier and better version of me.

“God, you’re so smug it’s irritating,” Nina remarks when I come into her office for our weekly one-on-one meeting.

I flip her the bird, and take a seat.

Nina’s office smells expensive. I think it’s her perfume.

The room is sleek like her. White and slate-gray furniture, a minimalist desk with a built-in charging port, and a sideboard stocked with Pellegrino and cold brew, like she’s always ready to host a Vogue editor.

The only soft touch is the long silk scarf tied around the neck of a tall brass lamp, which flutters as the AC kicks on.

She bought that scarf after her divorce when she went to Paris alone. I think it’s the only sentimental thing in her office.

“He wants to marry me,” I tell her, gleefully .

Nina exhales and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I swear, if I hear one more engagement story over a CAD file, I’m going to start drafting prenups as part of onboarding.”

I grin, leaning against her doorway with my coffee. “You mean you’re not secretly thrilled that Savannah Lace is now known for skyline-altering design and life-altering romance?”

Her eyes flick up, her expression dry as ever. “Luna, we’ve had four engagements, two weddings, one pregnancy, and an office-wide debate over whether a bridal shower counts as billable time.”

“ That was a productive debate.” I lean back in my chair.

She makes a dissenting sound. If a man made it, we’d call it a grunt, but Nina is too polished for that.

“How are things with Diego?” I ask.

That earns me a sigh. And a long silence.

Then, quietly, she says, “It’s complicated.”

I blink. “You just said the magic word. You never say complicated .”

She gives me a look that asks, ‘ Really? ’ without saying a word.

“Look, I don’t like talking about such…private matters,” she says, tucking a curl behind her ear. Her hair is pulled into a low twist today, a few salt-and-pepper strands loose against her temple.

“I know, but I’m your BFF! So, spill!”

That gets a twitch of a smile.

Nina presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Sam will lose his mind when he finds out I’m dating a man years younger than me.”

“Diego is like five years younger than you. Big deal.”

“You saw Sam at your parents’ anniversary party.”

I nod wearily. “He’s a complete douchebag.”

Sam made a snide comment about a project Savannah Lace supposedly lost to his firm, tossing it out like proof of Nina’s failure. I reminded him—loudly enough for the nearby guests to hear—about the Savannah bridge project his company lost to us, which was a major coup.

Nina, for her part, stood tall and poised, like a queen too dignified to swat at a buzzing fly.

“He’s powerful. Petty. He’s got friends in every corner of this city, and he doesn’t take rejection well. When I filed for divorce and laid out the adultery receipts in court, I humiliated him. He’s been biding his time ever since.”

I hunch forward, knuckles tapping lightly on the counter. “You’re scared of what he’ll do?”

“I’m scared of the damage he’ll try to cause,” she counters. There’s a flicker of something broken in her eyes. “I’m scared for Bianca. I’m scared he’ll drag Diego into something ugly just to spite me. I’m not scared of him . I’m tired of him . ”

My throat tightens. Nina is indomitable. Never afraid of anything. The strongest woman I know.

“You know, Lev works in lumber and Noah in construction, I’m sure they know shady characters if you want them to work Sam up in a dark alley or something,” I joke.

She gives me a smile like a sigh, quiet and full of old weight. “Now, wouldn’t that be lovely. But the moron is my daughter’s father, and she adores him. He may have cheated on me and treated me like crap, but he loves Bianca. I won’t interfere with that.”

“Vengeful wife versus good mother?”

“Yeah.” She rests her elbows on her desk. “And good mother always wins.”

“Not my mother.”

“Any news from them since the anniversary party debacle?”

I shake my head. I’d told Nina about what went down that evening with my father, Dom, and Lev. She was also surprised that my father slid into violent behavior.

She clears her throat and points her coffee mug at me. “Enough about my mess. Tell me about yours.”

“I have no messes! I told you, he wants to marry me.” I smile widely; I can’t help it. “He already has a ring.”

“Is it a half-decent one?”

“It’s his mother’s.”

Her features soften with tenderness. “And you’ve forgiven him for his sins?”

“Not all of them, but most of them,” I admit. “I am learning to forgive. To let go of the story I had in my head about how love stories all end in disasters.”

“That’s not easy,” she responds, her gaze distant with consideration.

“It’s not as hard as I thought it would be,” I confide. “I feel good about us. Not insecure. Even when Camy…did I tell you what happened when we saw her at Pacci? ”

She frowns, giving a slight shake of her head.

I tell her about the incident at our table and in the restroom.

“I can’t believe a man as smart as Dom really thought the best way to win the fair maiden was to pretend he was dating the wicked witch.”

“I don’t think men are smart,” I state.

“I agree,” Nina beams. “So, are you going to make Dom pay for the whole Camy thing?’

“You know me so well.”

Nina sighs. “Not in the office.”

“You’re no fun.” I fake pout.

She eyes me suspiciously. “Devon is coming over for a meeting about the Rhodes Hotel in Miami today.”

“He is?” I flutter my eyelashes, trying to look innocent.

“Luna, it’s childish to do that.”

“Maybe, but it’s going to be wonderfully satisfying. Will give him a taste of how dumb it is to try and get attention by having some woman rub her tits all over him.”

Nina shakes her head, though she’s clearly reveling in the moment. “Hell hath no fury….”

I time it carefully , with Rachel, Nina’s EA’s help, who is more than eager to make Dom pay. Her boyfriend and she just broke up because he emotionally cheated on her, so she wants her pound of flesh .

What the heck is emotional cheating? Ah, this young generation, they have so many words for a man screwing around. I don’t care if it’s emotional or physical, it is what it is, and it’s wrong as hell.

Devon comes out of his meeting with Aurora. He’s in his usual beach chic chaos. Linen pants, open-collared shirt with one too many buttons undone, hair that says, ‘ I tried but it was too much, so I immediately gave up .’

“Luna, darlin’.” He finds me in the seating area near the cafeteria, right outside the meeting room where he met with Aurora and the Rhodes Hotel project team.

He slides next to me on the couch. “Are you here because you missed me?”

Devon is a consummate flirt. I adore him. “Like a sunburn,” I reply sweetly.

He clutches his chest. “Wounded. Absolutely gutted.”

And then, because my project management skills are flawless, I time my throwing a pillow at him right when Dom walks toward the cafeteria for a Minton Project meeting that will start in twenty minutes.

He likes to come early. Get a cup of coffee. Sneak a kiss.

He pauses mid-step.

His eyes narrow.

I feel the sizzle in the air.

The slow-burning flicker of masculine attention narrowing into territorial tension.

Excellent!

Devon, bless him, notices.

He stretches, drapes his arm casually across the back of the couch behind me, not touching me, but close enough to be suggestive. Then he proceeds to tell a rather salacious vacation story.

I lean in slightly, chin on my hand, like I’m utterly captivated by his stupid tale about skinny-dipping in Corsica.

Dom’s expression shifts. From neutral to mildly curious to narrowed-eye, clenched-jaw irritated.

But when Devon starts describing the time he lost his swim trunks to the ocean and gained the affection of a particularly forward French widow because of his rather impressive package , I laugh— deliberately loudly, and Dom gives up the pretense of not giving a shit, and gets in my personal space.

“What’s so funny?” he demands, his eyes fixed on Devon’s arm, still draped across the couch like it paid rent.

“Oh,” I say breezily, “Devon was just regaling me with tales of public nudity and poor judgment.”

“Sounds like Tuesday for Devon,” Dom deadpans, his gaze flicking to mine. “I need some time before our meeting. Let’s have some lunch.”

Before I can answer, Devon smirks. “Dom, I’m taking her for lunch, man. Wait your turn.”

Dom’s jaw tightens.

“Choices, choices,” I murmur, barely able to hold it together.

Jealous Dom is sexy as hell.

Dom leans down until he’s eye level with me. His voice is all silk and warning. “I offer dessert first.”

He stuns me into silence.

Devon chuckles. “I think that’s my cue to leave…and just to let you know, everyone can see you here, so I wouldn’t start fucking on the couch.”

He bolts with a wink and zero dignity.

I burst out laughing.

Dom straightens and narrows his eyes. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

I don’t even pretend that this was innocent. “Just a little payback for what you did with Camy,” I taunt.

His mouth curves into a dangerous smile. “Moonbeam, jealousy looks good on me.”

“Does it?” I arch a brow. “Because you looked like you were about to throw Devon into the Savannah River.”

“He’d float. Too much hot air.” Dom’s hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me gently to my feet.

“Let’s go to your office,” he says.

“I thought we were having lunch,” I say, confused.

“It’s dessert first. Remember? ” he murmurs, brushing his lips over my cheek.

My knees go weak.

Devon, wherever he is, should be proud of his wingman skills, I think, as Dom eats his dessert in my office with the door locked.