HERMIONE
I didn't knock. I never really did with Dylan.
The heavy double doors to his office were slightly cracked open, sunlight pouring in from the massive windows behind his desk. I walked in quietly, a soft smile on my lips as I took in the sight of him—leaning back in his chair, his voice smooth and clipped, phone pressed to his ear.
He looked up the moment I entered. His eyes found mine instantly. The corner of his mouth lifted—relief, amusement, affection—and he opened his arm, silently inviting me closer.
I didn't hesitate.
Without a word, I made my way around his desk and perched myself sideways on his lap, my arms wrapping loosely around his neck. His free hand instinctively found my waist, settling there like it belonged. His thumb moved in slow, lazy circles against my side.
"Yes, Mother," he said, his voice patient but edged with that signature Dylan restraint. "I know how old I am."
Pause.
"No, I'm not going to parade anyone around just because you're in matchmaking mode. I don't need a dinner full of pointed questions and emotional ambushes."
Another pause.
His eyes met mine again—something flickering in them that felt like tension, but not quite. Then he spoke again, his voice slower now, deliberate. "Her name is Hermione Vale."
I raised a brow at him. His mother? This conversation?
"She's the new Head of Legal at Voss Enterprise," he added, fingers tightening subtly on my waist. "Brilliant. Tough. A little stubborn. Exactly what I need."
I hid a smile against his shoulder, resting my chin there, letting the warmth of his voice settle over me.
"She's sitting on my lap right now," he said suddenly, and I blinked, startled. "Yes, literally. And no, Mother, I'm not handing her over just yet. You'll meet her when I'm ready to share her attention with the family."
I couldn't help it—I laughed. A soft, surprised sound muffled against his neck.
There was a long pause on the line. I could imagine her—stunned, then flustered, then determined.
"…You didn't just say that," came her voice faintly through the speaker.
"I did," Dylan said calmly. "Because the last time I introduced someone to the family, she was an investment banker trying to merge with my bank account."
I bit my lip to keep from laughing again.
"This is different. Hermione is mine," he said, and though his voice was calm, I felt the weight behind his words. A quiet claim. A truth.
"Yes, I'm serious about her."
He leaned back slightly, brushing his nose against my cheek as he added, "More serious than I've ever been about anything."
My breath caught.
Silence filled the room again.
Then: "Fine," his mother said finally. "But I expect to meet her before the next family gala. I'll clear my calendar. You better do the same."
"I'll think about it," he replied dryly.
"Dylan."
"I said I'll think about it."
He ended the call with a single tap and let the phone drop to the desk. I looked at him, heart racing a little—not because of nerves, but because of him.
"You told her everything," I said.
"I told her the important part," he murmured, leaning in. "That you're not going anywhere."
I brushed my fingers along the back of his neck, gently playing with the ends of his hair. "You sure you want your mother coming for me?"
"She can try," he said with a smirk. "But you'll handle her better than I ever could."
"And if I don't?" I teased.
"Then I'll protect you from her. Like I'll protect you from everything else."
I leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I don't need protecting, Dylan."
"I know," he said against my mouth. "But let me do it anyway."
He pulled back slightly, looking at me with a serious expression. "There's something else I need to tell you."
"What?" I asked, curious.
"I need to introduce you to my friends," he said, his voice low, almost reluctant. "They've been asking about you for a while now."
I sat up a little, eyes narrowing. "Your friends?"
"Yeah. The Billionaire Boys Club," he said, a touch of humor in his tone. "They're... persistent. They've been dying to meet the woman who has me so tied up."
I raised an eyebrow. "And you're okay with that?"
He shrugged, his fingers gently tracing the side of my waist. "I can't really hide you from them forever. Trust me, they'll just show up at your office if I don't. And I'm not making you the subject of their 'who's the lucky woman?' questions for much longer."
My stomach fluttered, a mix of excitement and nerves. The idea of meeting his friends—especially considering how much Dylan's presence loomed in their circle—was a bit overwhelming.
"I suppose I don't have a choice?" I asked, teasing.
"You could always say no," he said with a smirk. "But I wouldn't recommend it. They're relentless."
I laughed softly. "When?"
He sighed dramatically, as if already dreading the day. "Probably sooner than later. I'll let you know when they'll show up—just be ready."
I nodded, a strange sense of anticipation washing over me. "Okay. I'll brace myself."
Dylan leaned forward, brushing his lips lightly against mine. "Don't worry, babe. It's just a formality. You've already passed my test."
I raised an eyebrow. "And what was that test?"
He grinned. "The one where you didn't run for the hills when I introduced myself at that party. You're tough. I like that."
I kissed him again, softly, lingering this time, letting the world outside fade away. His friends could wait. For now, I was all that mattered.