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Distaste dinner

*Harley’s POV

"Do I look good?" I run my hands along the length of my hair, looking myself up in the rearview mirror of the car.

Choosing a perfect dress usually comes easy to me but tonight, I feel more cautious about my appearance. After spending an hour in front of the wardrobe, I ended up picking a royal blue, off-shoulder cocktail dress with a side slit reaching above my knee.

"You always look good, Harley. Stop worrying," Xavier says, interlacing our fingers together, making me look at our joined hands.

Unlike me, it took him only a few minutes to get ready, and yet, I admire the way he is dressed in a black suit that was tailored just for his body. He is wearing a crisp white shirt underneath with a black tie. His biceps are hard underneath the sleeves and I have the urge to run my hands over them. His hair is neatly gelled, spiked a little on the front, and his cheeks are covered by light stubble.

"But you said they were important clients." Xavier squeezes my hand as I speak.
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