His, Timelessly

CEYLAN

The next couple of hours flew by without my notice. One moment, Savvy was helping me settle into my new bedroom, and the next, the living room had been transformed into a small fashion house.

Savvy’s stylist kept shoving dresses into my hands, and my best friend made it her business to disagree with each one I tried.

“At this rate, I’ll end up wearing my old clothes to the party.”

Brenda glanced at the last standing rack. “There are still a few more dresses to try on.”

I ran my hand over the long, satin, blue, flowy dress I was currently in. “This looks okay. Could I just…”

The look Savvy gave me was enough to shut me up. There was no point in arguing with her when she had that look.

“Ceylan, we are not settling for just ‘okay.’”

She left her position on the couch for the first time since we’d started this ‘fashion show’. Rummaging through the armful of dresses in the untouched rack, she pulled out the emerald-green one.

“Here.” She shoved it in my hands. “Try this.”

I sighed in frustration. “Why do I always have to do what you say?”

“Because I’m always right and some people may even say I’m smarter.”

I rolled my eyes. “But the same thing can’t be said about your height.”

She gave me the same treatment. I never missed a chance to rub it in her face that I was seven inches taller than her, especially when she’d always wished to add at least two inches to her five-feet-two.

My height was the first compliment she ever gave me and the first words she uttered to me when we first crossed paths in college.

“Just go try it on.”

Securing a huge chunk of the green dress in my hand, I walked back to my room to change.

“What do you think?” I asked, walking out a few minutes later.

When Savvy caught a glimpse of me in what felt like the hundredth dress I’d tried this evening, she smiled. Moving to the other end of the room, she picked up a pair of black heels from the pile Brenda had brought along.

“Put these on.”

I obliged.

Then she spun her finger in a circle, forcing me to twirl. When I caught my image in the large dressing mirror, I beamed.

“Now that…” I sucked in a breath.

“You are welcome.” There was nothing short of pride in her voice.

“That is a perfect fit, Ms. Aslan.” Brenda admired the dress on me. “It brings out the green in your eyes.”

“It is. It does.” I studied myself one more time. I looked nothing short of stunning. The off-shoulder silk dress clung to all my curves, making my waist look smaller than normal.

Mid-thighs, the skirt fell loose, causing the fabric to float as I twirled.

“Thank you. If you weren’t destined to be the CEO of Ross Group, you would make a great stylist.”

“My mother would be mortified by just the thought of that.”

“I promise to never mention this to her.”

“I’ll start packing my things,” the stylist said.

“How much is everything? How should I make my payment? Is a check okay?”

“Charge everything on my account,” Savvy replied before Brenda got a chance to. “This is my welcome home gift.”

I nodded.

“Now let’s get ready for the party.”

***

Two hours later, Savvy and I were standing outside Ross Tower, waiting for the limousine taking us to the hotel to pull over.

I felt nervous about tonight. I wasn’t immune to self-doubt despite having plenty of experience in a leadership position. I’d been running Grandpa’s company with my uncle the entire year I was in Turkey.

And I had no problem fitting in at Aslan Consolidated; I had worked in the company from the time I left school. But the thought of every board member’s eye on Baris and me, waiting to see if we failed, had me hoping my father would change his mind.

Not that my brother would be pleased with this idea, he’d always wanted to break free, stop living in our father’s shadow.

“Have I told you that you look gorgeous?”

I smiled, relieving the tensed muscles on my face. “You have.” Staring at her ombre fabric V-neck dress with spaghetti straps and center open slit, I repeated my compliment.

“So do you.”

“Ms. Ross… Ms. Aslan…” Cole’s chin dipped inward in acknowledgment. Reaching for the knob, he opened the limousine’s rear door and stood beside it; hands crossed in front of him like a trained soldier.

We climbed in and were quickly on our way.

As if the city was in a hurry to put me in my rightful position, it only took a few minutes to drive down to the five-star hotel hosting the event.

My nerves spiked anew as our limo pulled behind similar glossy black vehicles in front of the Prime Hazel entrance. It was hard to miss the crowd of reporters and media personnel clustered behind the crowd control barrier, their uncoordinated voices and flashes from their cameras, tablets, and phones penetrating through the glass and steel of the car.

My brother would bathe in all this; he practically lived for the attention.

“We can always find a back entrance,” Cole suggested.

Meeting his eyes through the rearview mirror, I shook my head. I needed to walk in front of the bedlam and prove to myself that I was up for the task that would begin as soon as my father gave his speech tonight.

I let my eyelids fall and took a large puff of air. Just smile. I told myself. I suspected this would be my mantra for the next few minutes.

Savvy’s hand gently rested on mine in unspoken support. She knew how much I hated the media. She knew this was the part of being a billionaire’s daughter I hated.

I smiled then inclined my head toward Cole. On my nod, he got out of the limo, circled around it, and opened the door for us.

The moment my foot hit the ground, the press focus shifted to my direction, as if the other guest they’d been trying to take shots of a few seconds ago didn’t matter.

I blinked several times to allow my eyes to adjust to the blinding lights. Hands tightly clutching my purse to the point of draining every drop of blood from my fingers, I began my walk down the red carpet.

“Ceylan Aslan!” The reporters called out, wanting to get my attention.

Then the questions erupted. Relentless demanding shouts from the hungry reporters, interrogations, and accusations, all reached my ears.

“Ceylan, when did you come back to New York?”

“Are you here to stay?”

“Is it true that you moved to Istanbul because your grandfather’s company wasn’t doing well?”

“Is the rumor about Dacey Aslan announcing his retirement tonight true?”

“Is that the reason you came back?”

Nothing got past these people. If I had any doubts before, they were all wiped away in this moment.

Forcing myself to wear a wider smile, I decided to satisfy a bit of their curiosity.

“Yes, I’m here to stay.”

I briefly shifted my attention to Savvy, who had crept up beside me.

“I missed living in the same city as my best friend and my family.”

That wasn’t a lie.

Returning my attention to the press, I concluded, “Let’s just enjoy the party. The night is still young, and it’s too early to confirm what might or might not happen. Thank you.”

The dissatisfied reporters continued to fire off questions as we headed toward the pair of doormen.

When they realized they weren’t going to get more answers out of me, they shifted their attention to Savvy, who paid them no mind.

A small security detail struggled to control the chaotic crowd, barking at the media to stay on the other side of the barrier.

As soon as the doormen spotted us, they greeted us by name and let us inside.

“You handled them really well,” Savvy praised as the voices of the yammering media and press fell behind us.

A tiny bit of tension left my body, and the soothing classical music playing inside the venue certainly helped.

We followed the couple in formal wear walking ahead of us.

Not that I needed help finding the Grand Ballroom—almost all Aslan Consolidated events took place in Prime Hazel.

Upon seeing us, one of the tuxedoed hosts left his position at the check-in stand outside the venue.

“Good evening, Ms. Aslan and Ms. Ross,” he greeted us.

“Good evening,” we answered in unison.

“Please come this way.”

We followed as he led us to the front of the line and through the soaring wooden double doors.