Marked "M" for mild to moderately foul language and possible (probable) sexual content
Dolly's Penthouse (second sitting room) || 8:00 PM

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It might have surprised some people that Dolores St. James actually valued her privacy, what with her writing tell all books based on her life. Of course that was merely speculation about past crimes committed by very guilty people who, in the long run never actually guessed who they were in her novels. She had minor acquaintances take credit as major players in her life. She had learned a long time ago to roll with the punches. It added to the mystery and fun as everyone tried to suss out fact from fiction. The people who mattered knew the truth, and knew that there were some secrets that should never be told.

Of course not everyone shared her sense of discretion. She had experienced this phenomenon before - someone blabbing to the papers, a one night stand talking to the gossip rags; she knew it came with the territory. What was troublesome was how much time and effort she spent trying to weed these people from her life only to be betrayed. Now some people might argue that when one lived a public life they deserved whatever backlash and back stabbing that came with the territory. Dolly, in and of herself, was more than capable of handling such an incident. The only time it really ever got to her was when it effected someone she cared about; or ruined relationships she wanted no say in.

Such was the case on the late April evening of the 24th. It had taken her some time to adjust to the idea that Darian would betray her trust in such a way that ended Landis' relationship with Juliette. In reality it should have surprised her less because he was an insatiable gossip. How many times had they laughed hysterically over far too much wine (or whatever else had been on hand) at other peoples expense? Darian was an amazing storyteller and as a gadabout he had a never ending supply to rival Dolly's own. Then there were the nights that they went out to add even more fuel to the mortifying story pile. She'd never thought he'd use it against her though...or more to the point against Landis.

She didn't love the angry blonde librarian, she never had. What they had had was...short lived, volatile, but in a strange way comforting. He wanted her when she didn't want herself; when she had felt broken by Dominik's total rejection. They were the same, really, underneath it all; and more so back then than at any other time. Loving a Wiedman could break you, they both knew that. It was a way to feel valid without ever having to take a risk. That was what they had been to one another; that was all. The idea that because of a handful of stupid mistakes with a man (who openly hated her now) could end the first moderately happy relationship he'd had since Hogwarts really bothered her.

Even more than the fact that it had imploded Landis' relationship her worry was Dazmond finding out. After almost a decade the possibility had seemed so infinitesimal! Really, who talked about stuff from so long ago? Landis had shared her desire to keep the secret. She was fairly sure he was disgusted by her now, but at the time it had just felt like it would complicate already exceedingly complicated relationships. Neither of them had ever really gotten over the burn of first love. Landis had done a much better job of moving on from it in his own way. She envied him that because Dominik was still gumming up the cogs in her life. Bastard.

Standing at the long wall of windows, blue eyed focused on the street below. She had dressed for an evening out but wasn't planning on letting Darian out of her sight until he explained what he had been thinking. A part of her knew, really, it had nothing to do with her. She was the variable that didn't matter - but he had created a situation in which her life long relationships were now in jeopardy because he couldn't keep his big mouth shut. Landis seemed resigned to the fact this was just how things had to be. Dolly on the other hand... well she needed some answers; and the playboy had about fifteen minutes to show up before she went on the hunt; and then she could not be held accountable for her actions. Angry Dolly was not a person who knew how to be reasonable; hence every vase that had ever been thrown at Dominik's head.

She really wanted a damn cigarette.

outfit for the evening

Three minutes past eight, Bud piped up from her spot at the door. "Darian Morgan, miss!" she called as he emerged from the hall.

After a time without seeing him his appearence tended to startle, but his guise tonight was not one of his more fantastical. Red curls, tinted glasses - rings on all his fingers, and probably his toes - tight trousers and a blazer sharp enough to kill. Practically commonplace, for Darian. His usual dress. He had even limited the dazzle to a hankerchef at his breast pocket and a flash of gold in the lining at his wrists. Possibly he knew he was here to beg her forgiveness. Possibly he knew he looked good in black.

"Dolly," he purred, and she turned. Every inch the mankiller, and her blue eyes on him were sharp. Darian took his life into his own hands and approached her without hesitation, long fingers capturing one of her finely wrought hands and pressing his lips to the back of it in a kiss. He glanced up at her over the tops of his glasses, a flash of long red lashes and blue eyes bereft of innocence. He smiled. "How good it is to see you again. And I brought you a gift. Would you like it before or after you eviscerate me?" His tone implied that he couldn't imagine what he might have done to turn her gaze so cold, but it must have been very wicked. Doubtless given the chance, he would apologize as prettily as he did everything else.

Darian Morgan was a bloody nuisance. He really was, she couldn't stand him...except when he looked at her like that. She could try all she wanted to be angry - he was worse than Dom about winning her back over. Actually, they never quarreled (hardly ever, and far far less than she fought with either Wiedman). It was a rare thing for Dolly, really, because no matter how much she loved someone she seemed to love bickering more. She was the sort of person who spoiled for fights and dug them up. With Darian it always seemed to turn into a contest to see who could out bitch the other while simultaneously always ending in laughter. It was a proven fact if you could make Dolly St. James laugh you could get her to do just about anything.

Arching an eyebrow as he languished over her fingers, her lips pulled to one side, "Eviscerate is such an ugly word Darian. Besides, if I was going to cut you to ribbons I wouldn't have let Bud bring you to the second floor," she glanced down to the fabric beneath their feet with nonchalant toss of her hair, "New carpet. Blood stains are an utter bitch to get rid of". She said that as though she didn't have Bud or couldn't pay someone else to scrub her floors. And though her resolve was strong and she had every intention of chastising him fully a ghost of a smile cross her features the longer he looked up at her. "You really are an insufferable bastard," her tone was nonplussed as she removed her hand from his.

GIven half a chance he'd turn this whole thing into a joke - and whether or not she really was the final linchpin in the doomed relationship that was Landis and Juliette, Dolly didn't need or want untrustworthy people in her little universe. She might forgive him; but he was fucking ridiculous if he thought she would just forget. Drawing a cigarette from a nearby table she turned toward him for a light, "It has come to my attention you've been telling stories about me Darian. Extremely distasteful stories at that," She gave him a pointed look as she inhaled a lengthy drag, "Really, you had to tell the Landis story? You couldn't come up with anything better to ruin their relationship with? Honestly he must have done something more interesting than shagging me".

Darian held her gaze, his breath ghosting over the back of her hand. One, two...
 
She arched a brow, but her lips twitched in something like a smile. Gotcha, he thought, and pressed another kiss against her still-captured hand for good measure. His lips curled up against her skin in an unmistakable smirk.
 
"What a relief. You'd have ruined my suit."
 
He really did not know what she was angry at him for, but he could try to guess. Dolly was a rare sort, just as bright and vivacious as he, just as willing to give in to the earthy pleasures of drinks and good company and the occasional dirty tumble. She was much kinder, though, the poor darling. More easily hurt. And he never had any regrets, so what had he done most recently to put that subtle barb into her voice?
 
"You really are an insufferable bastard."
 
"To the bone," he agreed, eyes falling half-mast and heavy-lidded. He drew out a silver lighter from his pocket, lit her cigarette wih quick clever fingers and snapped it just as quickly shut. A muggle affection - who needed a lighter when one had a wand? - but Darian liked the idea of having fire in his pocket, liked the weight and the look of the thing in its heavy silver case. And it gave him something to do at times like this, when she spoke and he realized his mistake.
 
His meeting with Juliette had been weeks ago, and he'd completely forgotten. But Darian's mind was as quick as his fingers, which were even now spinning the lighter between them in flashes that caught the light and drew the eye. Why would Dolly care what he'd told Juliette? He knew they were acquainted but she knew he didn't have much to tell. Whatever conclusions Juliette come to were entirely her own. She may have been led slightly - to asking the right questions, to unraveling the heart of the whole sticky mess - but he had only told her the facts, only the things she had specifically asked.
 
He gave a liquid shrug. "She approached me. She wanted to know the truth. Landis is so close-mouthed, sometimes he just needs a little push. Isn't honesty the best policy in relationships?" A pause, as he picked apart her word choice. "I didn't know you considered your little affair with him "distasteful." " He also hadn't known his interference had ruined their relationship. Landis told him nothing. But then, even if their little paradise had fallen apart, Darian didn't really think it had had anything to do with him. He may have facilitated the distrust in Juliette's heart, but he didn't plant it.
 
He snapped the lid off the lighter with his thumbnail, almost irritably. And what did it matter? They were only sleeping together. Dolly seemed as disapproving as if he'd ruined something more than simple lust.
 
"May I sit?"

"Darian," there was a slight edge to her voice as she spoke his name, almost exact equal parts of chastising and exasperation, "I didn't think I would actually have to explain this to you, since you insist on difficult, I am going to make it very simple". She paused again to take another drag. As the smoke curled in her lugs she took in the image of the man before her. She had been foolish to trust him - but it wasn't the first mistake she had made in her life and it wouldn't be the last. It bothered her mostly because her relationship with Landis had the potential to ruin several of her relationships now. It was awkward awful business. She didn't want to think of what would happen in Dazmond found out. She wasn't sure how the other witch would react. She had been the one to call things off but there were some men who were just off limits. She also knew exactly how Dominik would react and that was not a mess she wanted to clean up. Who knew how severe it would be given his...recent penchant of kissing her soundly and then leaving her to her own devices.

"You know full well that I wouldn't even talk to you about what happened...then," she couldn't even bring herself to say, because realistically what had it been? It wasn't a relationship but it was more than just fucking. They didn't love one another but they were connected in a surreal and binding of the past way. His kidnapping had reaffirmed the notion that when push came to shove they were the same kind of person - the kind that was unable to turn their back on anyone that had ever been truly important. If Dom hadn't locked her in that damn closet... she didn't like to think about it, but the feeling was there. She'd have died to protect he and Daz. She had lost too much in recent months to keep pretending that she didn't have a heart, that she could easily turn her back on all of it. In a strange and distant way she realized that was what separated her from Darian... she'd spend all this time cultivating an image that was just that, an image... he was stupid enough to believe his own hype. It was sad really.

"Don't play dumb, it's highly unattractive. You wanted to have a go at Landis and you stuck your finger right in the middle of the biggest bruise you could find, and you bloody well know he finds the whole mess distasteful" with the flick of her thumb bits of ash wafted their way to the engraved silver tray, as she motioned for him to find a seat as she wasn't remotely done with him yet. "I adore you; but we both know that you told her because you wanted to watch something implode under the weight of mistrust. You were bored that day, or feeling spiteful, I don't pretend to understand your motives - in the end they don't matter so much as you understanding you betrayed my trust". She let that word sort of hang between them - it was a very big deal for her. She didn't just trust people, she didn't hand her heart to them; she had let his charm blind her to the fact he was as vicious as any viper.

"Fuck with Landis all you like; but if you want to continue our little affair, you'd do well to keep my name out of it" it would be a mistake to tell him that Dazmond finding out would be the worst possible thing for either she or Landis. It was the exact sort of thing, once he realized the weight of power it contained, he would run with. It felt strange to know she couldn't trust him anymore - or rather than she'd never really been able to. It hurt the tender side of her heart. The fact that he tried to dress it up as being for everyone's best interest irritated her. It was one thing to be a self important bastard who got his jollies from mucking about in people's lives. It was wholly another thing to act as if it had done anyone any good. Darian would never understand the notion of consequence for misdeeds. Eventually he'd bed the wrong woman and find himself on the nasty end of a curse... she just hoped it didn't come from Dom's wand because Morgan was stupid enough to open his mouth again.

"Don't play dumb, it's highly unattractive."

His gaze shuttered and went unreadable, blank pretty eyes that didn't give her any satisfaction in betraying his thoughts. He arranged himself on the sofa while she scolded him, settling back against the lush fabric in an artful half-sprawl that was almost certainly practiced. At a better time it might have been inviting, but he was not so foolish as to think he could distract her when she was in a mood like this. His expression when he turned his face up towards her was as unhelpful as his gaze, but at least it was devoid of temptation.

Scolding, scolding - tch, how tiresome. If she wanted to discuss his motives at least she could bother to sound a little less disgusted. Darian couldn't imagine a better reason for doing what he did. What else motivated anyone to change but boredom? But he at least made the pretense of listening intently, because he knew they wouldn't do anything fun tonight until Dolly felt him properly chastised.

"I'll stop playing, then," he said, and his voice had lost some of its vapid charm. Now it was smooth, strong, threaded through with what seemed like the urgency of truth. He removed his glasses, tucking them into his blazer pocket. See how open I am, the gesture seemed to say. How willing I am to talk with you. But let's cut to the chase. "Don't think I did this to get to you, Dolly, no more than I'm out to get burned. I've no interest in telling Dazmond, or spilling this secret out in such a way that it'd reach her." He smiled, barely, but it was a private expression, not one calculated to sway her. She was the dumb one if she thought he couldn't see what she really feared. Landis, too. Neither had to mention it for him to see the tightness in their faces, to notice the way she was avoiding saying it even now. He wouldn't let her avoid it, that he knew, that she knew, it was such a silly game of pretend. He may not have been a part of their circle, but Darian was a smart boy. The night he walked into this little passion play he'd thought, how interesting, and kept an eye on the situation. Little bits here, little bits there - he didn't need anything more, not on top of the generous information embedded in the past. He was perceptive, and it was easy. How bizarre that people seemed to think an outsider would know nothing of a situation, when it fact - unencumbered by those tiresome threads of love and obligation and needless guilt - Darian could see quite clearly the way things stood. Such a mistake the two had made, and he understood precisely the truth of his conclusions and their value. But power is put into the hands of those who wield it by those who don't, and what Darian didn't understand, gazing up at Dolly's face, was why any of it still had any relevance to wound today. 

But oh, it definitely did. Landis had thrown in his lot with a pitiful bunch. Each wrapped their weaknesses with brash artifice, but they were too transparent when it mattered.

He hadn't even known her that long to see it. The annoyance she was broadcasting was nothing compared to what it could be, nothing to how her friendships would unravel if applied just the right pressure. If Darian was lying, he could be the one to push.

But he wouldn't. Dolly was interesting. She talked tough but she was so soft, the most interesting juxtaposition of brashness and dismissed vulnerability he'd ever met. There was, he knew, ways of getting to her - was that not what he'd already done? - but not without coming out the other side in tatters. She was being gentle with him now, because she didn't like what he'd done but she still wanted to keep him. Gentle meaning that she hadn't actually thrown anything at him and apparently meant it when she said she didn't quite want his guts for garters (although they would have been the most fashionable garters she ever did possess). 

It was sort of endearing. Sort of sweet. So he could lie and lie and she'd still let him back into her good graces, both of them aware that forgiven did not mean forgotten. Darian didn't mind. He hadn't been aware he'd been granted any sort of trust, would have been amazed to hear any of her thoughts on the matter. He'd have been amazed to know she'd given him any trust at all, but maybe not surprised. That was his talent, however he abused it, this charming his way into other people's hearts. But he meant it when he said he wouldn't tell Dazmond. Of course not. He wasn't suicidal.  Even if he thought, impatient and rather tired of their martyred act, that Dazmond was unlikely to care. Dominik was a different story - but Darian wasn't much worried about his involvement. No matter what happened, Landis had to put up with him. They were family after all, there was no getting away. Dolly, however, didn't, which made her threat all the more effective.

"I'm sorry, Dolly. While it's true my intentions in agreeing to meet Juliette were not the most innocent, I really didn't know at the time that you two were acquainted, that I was interfering with an already-existing connection, that it... would reflect badly on you."
 

Dolly watched him from behind closely guarded eyes. Alright, so, she had underestimated his understanding of the situation. It had been a good long while since she'd had engaged in this sort of intricate social dance. He knew he held cards; but she knew that he wanted her. He didn't want to keep her; but he wanted these little visits to continue. He wanted a warm and willing Dolly, the one who glittered and preened as she was bewitching hearts and turning heads. She could give him that, the cost was simple silence, keeping his tongue in check. She also had Dominik's likely violent rebuttal on her side as well. Whatever Dazmond would do being the cause of the fall out between the witches would not bode well for Darian.

People often dismissed what Dolly was really capable of when pushed to a corner. She knew he wasn't sorry; but he knew she could make him be - and that was really all that mattered. Perching on the back of the sofa, she looked over her shoulder and down at him as she exhaled a long breath of smoke, "I'm glad we're in agreement that Dazmond shouldn't be on the receiving list of your bedtime stories, then. I'd hate to have to dismiss your company. For an inglorious bastard you are terribly amusing," she leaned down then, dropping a kiss on his forehead. It seemed foolish to push the matter further. It would only result in her anger and his being combative. So long as they had an understanding the semantics of it mattered very little.

Raking her fingers through her hair she let her blue eyes traverse his graceful features. He really was painfully pretty; not her usual type but then if one were trying to peg down a Dolores St. James type they'd be hard pressed to find anything in common beyond bad tempers in the men she "dated". There too Darian fell to the wayside; he was more cool and calculating than any of her recent dalliances. He set traps and let people wander in; not an action of aggression or passion but rather boredom. She didn't actually know if he were capable of being literally enraged. She'd bet Galleons to crumpets the closest he ever came was vague annoyance.

In part it was his quick witted quips and placid nature that actually drew Dolly in. He was a curiosity. He also designed fabulous clothes and showered her with presents. Speaking of, "So what have you brought to buy off my affection tonight? I feel I have undoubtedly earned whatever it is for the simple pain and suffering of spending the afternoon with your cousin," she looked at him expectantly. Though still guarded, she openly fell back into their relationship of dotting banter. Darian had been privy to too much to dismiss him, keeping him around ensured a certain level of security... though not as much if she had gutted him.

It was a pity she was so fond of her new carpet.

Darian barely blinked as she bent to kiss his forehead, but his crooked fingers clung briefly and sweetly to her dress. It was the acknowledgement of her forgiveness, but his distaste at the way she granted it did not show. It was too personal a gesture, this simple kiss - too tender her choice of location, like a mother to an occasionally wayward child before she wrapped him in a blanket and sent him up to bed. Darian did not want kindness, and he did not want love beyond that flashy surface affection he often evoked and equally bestowed, but he bore  it for the sake of smoothing things over.

"You know," he said, tilting his head back and arching his spine at her fingers in his hair, "I think you're making a dragon out of a dungbeetle. It's been so long - Dazmond surely doesn't care. How petty it would otherwise."

When he said petty, what he really meant was sad. Sad and pathetic. But also petty. He barely knew Dazmond, had spoken to her only a handful of times, but she couldn't get away with pulling a possessive snit over her ex-boyfriend of ten years ago. It was just inconceivable. Landis and Dolly had worked themselves up into this snarly little mess for nothing, making this too complicated by far. But Darian was being diplomatic. The fingers twisted in his curls were hypnotic and pleasurable. He'd just about decided he was too irritated with this scolding to stay until she'd done that and then, why, he melted like butter. It was hardly worth the effort to stay annoyed when she was doing that, so he'd modified his tone to neutrality instead.

"You know me, Dolly," he said, his eyes opened very wide so he could gaze up at her backwards over the couch and his mouth just parted, just barely smiling, "I'm easy."

Then his brows drew down in a frown that quickly changed to a playful pout. "Ah, I'm not sure I want to give it to you now. You're so cruel, Dolly, you rebuked me too harshly.  I'm afraid all my confidence has wilted like an autumn flower and my belief that you would like the things I'd give you has died a short, hopeless death."

Dolly sighed impatiently. He was, perhaps, right about how Dazmond would react. She was married after all - but Dolly doubted happily so after the last few months. It was Landis' desire to keep it a secret, more, than anything else, that Dolly had honored. His displeasure and distaste that fueled her own. That was just how it was. He didn't want people to know so they didn't know. It was mildly insulting (mild over years of acceptance from the once harsh decree) but she'd gotten over the sting of his shame long ago. Then there was Dominik to think about, while Dazmond might be logical about it...the elder Wiedman was never logical about anything. It wouldn't matter that she had done what she'd done because of him.

It would be pointless to explain this to Darian because he wouldn't understand. She had a different idea of how he worked now. What she had often thought of a mask much like her own...was truly as deep as the wellspring went for the man. There were no hidden depths - except, perhaps, those of malicious intent. He'd never loved anything so much to be irrational about it. Love and trust (or the lack there of) could actually make you crazy. When you thought of people in terms of belonging to you - even when they didn't or you rejected them - Dominik had set himself up to be enraged when he fully imagined the spectrum of just what exactly she'd done to herself over the years to try and move on from him.

Rather than go into all of that - because Darian really wouldn't understand a single thing she had to say, she simply gave a dismissive wave of her hand before stubbing out her cigarette, "Can't we just leave it at there are some things better left unsaid? Making up, for any reason, is far more fun than hashing out the validity of my argument," her voice was a coo against his ear as she expertly slipped from the back of the couch to his lap. Her expression was equally pouty as she slid her arms around his neck and nuzzled his cheek, voice vaguely amused, "If I thought it were at possible to damage your ego Darling you might have convinced me. However, I know you happen to an abundant supply of self adoration".

"I suppose you're right," Darian said dispondently as she slid into his lap. Even if you didn't answer my question. Now it was his turn to run fingers through the heavy silk weight of her hair, winding strands of it like black ribbons around his wrists. It caught on his rings so one by one he took them off, dropping them carelessly onto the carpet. He'd get them later. "On both matters, although you left even my rampant self-adoration cringing."

He shifted underneath her to get to his trouser pocket - a moment later he was wriggling quite without shame the other way to free his wand from another pocket on the inside of his blazer - all while keeping an arm around Dolly to keep her from slipping off. A quick tap of his wand and the tiny filmy scrap of fabric in his palm turned into a blue-black dress that slithered over the couch cushions as it grew. It was partially sheer and completely gorgeous, more than a touch impractical, but did not seem the slightest bit bothered by its journey here in Darian's pocket. Doubtless it would fit her perfectly no matter how many times it was shrunk and resized. Darian might be heartless, but charms from his wand were even more effective than those of his sly tongue or sweet handsome face, and he damned well knew how to tailor one exquisite dress.

"Surprise," he said mildly, although it was surely anything but.

Dolly made a small noise in the back of her throat as her hair tangled 'round one of his rings. It was not one of particular displeasure, and was quickly forgotten in favor of a ripe laugh as he bounced her around his lap. He was a cheeky bugger. However as they settled back into the normalcy of their banter her annoyance and worry over the entire exchange started to evaporate. She wouldn't forget; because she was a woman and they rarely do - but she did enjoy his charming nature. The sort of relationship she had with Darian was devoid of complications. He was not a man to be tied down or beholden to anyone else. He came and went as he pleased and it pleased her.

 In the last few months she had been so caught up in the drama of life that she had forgotten it really could be as simple as being bought off with an exceedingly gorgeous design. Eyes going wide over the design as it came into spectacular view she clapped her hands together excitedly. Frivolous as their relationship was, and it was frivolous, it did afford her certain luxuries - like having a closet teaming with Darian Morgan originals. He was not the only designer she knew but he was the one she'd been most intimately involved with. He had an inherent understanding of the female body; the fabrics and lines that highlighted one's best assets. Though she had been cultivating meaningful relationships and getting her brain all kerfuffled with how exactly she ought to proceed with her now much more tender heart, it was easy to get caught up in Darian's charismatic and overtly sexual pandering.

Perhaps pandering wasn't exactly the right word; but she hardly gave it a thought at all as she placed a fleeting kiss on the corner of his mouth, "You cannot seriously have doubted for a moment I'd be putty in your hands over a dress like this"! She nearly squealed as delicate fingers slid over the sheer material, "You're far too good at what you do to ever have any doubt of your ability". She turned in his lap then, lifting her hair with one hand, "Undo me, I want to try it on right now," as soon as he felt the zipper start to give way she was off his lap. She actually did want to try on the dress and was not actually looking  for an easy excuse to get out of her own. Though that was undoubtedly what Darian would think and play the opportunity to his best advantage, the bastard.

Once out of his grasp she let the black material puddle at her feet (giving little thought to the wall of open windows or the man perched on her couch). It wasn't as though Darian hadn't seen hundreds of women that way; or seen Dolly in far less than her stockings and garters before. The silken blue material slid over her skin like water, as she stepped away from the black puddle her voice was almost a purr, "Have I ever told you trying on your gowns is as close to Nirvana as I'll ever reach," it wasn't really a question, it was a statement. She knew she'd told him about sixty-four thousand times before it was damn near a spiritual awakening whenever he brought her something new to try on. "Merlin you're lucky I think every woman ought to have a chance to feel this way or I'd be a selfish cow and keep you all for myself," the words were spoken without a trace of irony or humor as she turned in a slow circle waiting his approval.

"You cannot seriously have doubted for a moment I'd be putty in your hands over a dress like this!"

"I did hope," he said, but his shark smile was softened into what looked like genuine pleasure at her obvious enthusiasm. He obediently unzipped her, the movement brisk and his hands barely lingering - he was equally impatient to see her in the dress, and would not give her bare back a caress or anything else that might distract her from trying it on. The hunger in his eyes when she dropped her (inferior) current dress to puddle on the floor was not lust of its usual sort; as soon as she slid his gown on he was no longer looking at her as a man to his lover but with a deep professional pleasure.

Darian did not give gifts as a general rule. When he did give them, they were as Dolly's was usually custom-made, something to do him proud as their new owners wore them where the public could see. Free advertising and bought affections could and were often combined. And he gave gifts to Dolly quite often, for Dolly was someone like him, someone who could be pleased with simple materialism rather than attaching any additional and unnecesary connotations to a gift between friends. That she was gorgeous, that she was famous, that when she wore his clothes people noticed... helped. Really helped. He could always tell when she'd worn one of his designs by the way business picked up the days after a big party, interview, or public appearance. She'd commissioned clothing from him before - she'd come in and bought from him, like any other client, so it did not hurt him, occasionally, to reward her for her business.

He also sent complimentary gloves and ties to other clients (gender-specific of course) - pressed shirts with advertisements for his newest lines tucked in their pockets, shifts or skirts or on one memorable occasion a rather glorious corset - things that he could afford, given his financial situation, to make for his most loyal. It made good business sense. His clients were delighted with the unexpected gifts and at the same time reminded of what he could do; he gained a reputation for charming eccentricity and esquisite manners, and they continued to buy from him for years and years. Libertine Ltd. had been open for five years, and Darian had seen the profit that came from courting clients beautifully and early.

But those sorts of complimentary gifts were very different from this dress. Yes, he'd anticipated her pleasure at the gift.  Yes, she'd wear it and make him money. But this design was new, and he'd wanted to see it on someone worthy of it. Someone who would make it look good. Dolly was the perfect woman to model it. It was more traditional than he was wont to making, but these looks were classics for a reason - simple in design, lush in texture (Darian was absolutely mad for textures) - he watched her twirl with a critical but approving eye.

"Beautiful," he said, and smiled at her. "Absolutely stunning. Oh, Dolly - " He laid a hand over his heart, eyes dancing with something that was definitely not just professional pleasure any more. "Who could wear my gowns half so perfectly as you? You're like water in a dessert, my darling, like redemption to a desperate man."

They were disciples of Hedonism; the more refined, the more lush, the more over the top the better. It was, in essence, why their relationship worked. It was a symbiotic coupling as much as anything. He really was talented and worth every ounce of gushing and preening. He made her look and feel exquisite - with just a lingering glance from those hungry eyes. The words that dripped prettily from his lips did nothing to hinder the feeling but they were entirely optional. Guarded though he may have been when annoyed with her there was the open face of a man who wanted her etched into his finely boned features.

Running her fingers over her hips she stood in front of him, bottom lip caught between her teeth for a moment before she spoke, "Ellie and I have been talking about lining up a couple shoots. The Yanks are hungry for more press to go with the book," she looked at him with a cheeky expectancy, trading the bit lip for a nail as she caught her reflection in the window. "Salazar's knickers, it's perfect for it. Boorish as the Americans might be I can't believe you haven't gone international already. The half dozen interviews I did last year in Salem every dress they wanted to know about was one of yours".

It was more of reminder for him, than a first statement of facts. She'd told him at the time but she knew he liked the ego stroking. It was well deserved so she never hesitated to sing his praises. Obviously even her former irritation with him and new found distrust didn't hamper her ability to apprciate all of his skills. He was the only man alive (at least in her life) who intrinsically understood that fashion spoke volumes about she was as a person. He designed clothes that spoke to a decadent sense of self, which Dolly had in abundance. And for her adoration in return she wad paid in kind.

"Water in the desert - I don't think you've used that line on me lately," her tone was teasing as she leaned over him. She braced her hand against the couch back, dark hair falling over one shoulder to almost tickle his jaw, "the last time might have been when I was modeling your brief foray into lingerie design...didn't you close up early that afternoon?" her lips were a scares breath away from his, words warm against his skin as her blue eyes locked onto his. There was a playful tempting amusement that hung in the air between them as she waited for him to offer up his reaction on a silver platter. It was inevitable that  they would forever end up in this place again. It may not have been the intent but he was a very hard habit to break.

Laviscious as he might be, Darian still had the head to talk business. He raised a hand in an absent, dismissive wave, fingers curling in towards his palm after a moment as though he'd forgotten about the gesture midway through. "You know I'd appreciate the interest," he said, brows puckering in a frown. "But I can't compete with the fashion in New York, nor can I afford to open another shop. Although if I could get the money just to start, Americans are awfully greedy things..." He paused to think about it, the lovely dream of garments flying out his American store as fast as he could make them. The wizarding community in the U.S. was huge - understandably, given the size of the population - and it was true that Americans tended to be cutthroat consumers. But to open there, he'd be going commercial, and half Libertine's appeal (he believed) was in his charm. No one else could sell his clothes so well as he himself, he knew, and the thought of putting his store (even a secondary one) in someone else's hands made him fretful. This concern reflected on his face until Dolly leaned in and reminded him of the present.

"We'll see," he concluded, already mentally pushing away the topic for another time. "It would be a wonderful opportunity..." But his eyes were already lingering on her form.

It was part vanity, but there it was: wearing his dress, watching him now, Dolly was irrestible. The fabric of the gown, however tastefully tailored, turned every dip and curve into a hedonist's dream. His fingers twitched in his lap, longing to touch. But no. Not quite yet. He diverted a hand to her face instead, lightly touching her throat, the side of her jaw, her lips. He tilted his face up, close enough to kiss, but his eyes were locked in heavy-lidded pretend with her gaze, not her mouth.

"I did," he agreed. "Leaving the curtains open and the door unlocked is bad for business. After all, you weren't actually wearing a stitch of my advertised clothing..."

She let him dismiss it, simply shaking her head. She knew the line was sustainable in the UK because of Darian. He could afford to do as he pleased - but it wasn't the first time she'd suggested he think a little bigger. Five years ago when he'd launched she'd been coming out of a whirlwind haze from the first book. She had needed something attention grabbing for the second launch and it just so happened he made the kind of clothes she wanted to be seen in. She was making name for herself and he was happy to hitch himself to her rising star. In a sense she knew that she spiked his sales the same way his clothes drew attention to her. It was a cycle that fed itself well on it's own self importance.

It had been an important (though easy) relationship to cultivate. Darian was not, in actuality, that hard to please. As evidenced by their complete and total now amorous mood shift. He was not the sort of man that wanted to hash out feelings when he could undress her with a steady eyes. She was more than willing to let him; a fluttering feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. She knew that he was tormenting her as much as she was tormenting him. It was all part of that intricate dance she had been musing over earlier. Neither of them wanted to give too much - to be hungrier than the other. It was about the power and who would submit first. She was sure he kept the same mind score she did. It was how he managed to resist trying to devour her when she was within arms reach.

"And who, pray tell, do you think was at fault for that? I believe you insisted you be the first to see me in it," catching her bottom lip between her teeth Dolly kept herself from smiling though the corners of her lips nearly twitched upward. "I'm still not sure that isn't a ploy you haven't tried on any number of other women," resting her other hand against his chest she raised a smug eyebrow - it wasn't really a question, "You're lucky I've never been the jealous type".