She Fixes A CEO’s Tie At A Gala, Never Expecting He’ll Lose His Heart To Her Kind Gesture
A Chance Encounter at the Gala
Delilah Knox hadn’t meant to touch the man’s chest. It just kind of happened when his crooked tie called to her like a neon sign blinking, “Fix me.”
The ballroom glittered around her, filled with LA’s most powerful names. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead. Champagne flutes clinked, and the string quartet in the corner played some soft classical tune no one was really listening to.
Delilah wasn’t even supposed to be here. She was only attending the gala as a last-minute plus-one for her boss, who bailed ten minutes before arrival.
Which is how she ended up standing near the grand staircase. She was watching a tall man with perfectly styled dark hair and a tuxedo that probably cost more than her rent for a year. He had a completely crooked tie.
She hesitated for half a second. Then she walked right up to him.
“Sorry,” she said gently, reaching for the silk fabric. “This tie is driving me insane.”
He looked down at her, startled. Up close, he had sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, and eyes so blue they looked unreal under the chandeliers.
“I owe what?” he asked.
“Hold still,” she murmured, her fingers already straightening the knot. “Who tied this?”
“A raccoon,” the man laughed. “And it was deep, warm, like it came from somewhere real.”
“I had no idea it was that bad,” he said.
“It was tragic,” she replied, giving the final tug. “There. Now you look like someone who owns the building.”
“I do,” he said, blinking at her.
Own the building? Oh. She froze. “Right. That’s cool.”
“I’m Nolan Strickland.”
Delilah blinked. She definitely knew that name: CEO of Strickland Dynamics, billionaire tech mogul, Forbes cover boy. The man who just let her manhandle his tie without security tackling her.
She cleared her throat. “Delilah Knox. I don’t usually assault neckwear, I swear.”
He smiled, not polite or forced. It was real, like she’d caught him off guard and he liked it.
“Well, Delilah Knox,” he said slowly. “You just saved me from being a public fashion disaster. How can I repay you?”
“You could not have me arrested for touching a billionaire,” she said lightly. “That would be great.”
“Done,” he said, eyes still on her. “Actually, can I get you a drink?”
She blinked. “You want to get me a drink? Unless you’re here with someone?”
“No,” she said before she could think. “I mean, no, I’m not. I came alone, sort of. I was a plus-one, but the guy bailed.”
Nolan held out his hand. “Come on. Champagne’s better when you’re not drinking it next to a fake Grecian column.”
Delilah stared at his hand for a second, then took it. His palm was warm, his grip firm as he guided her through the crowd.
People turned to look. Not at him—at her. Whispers followed them like perfume. “Who’s she? Is that Nolan Strickland’s date? Did he bring someone tonight?”
But Nolan didn’t seem to care. He led her to a quieter corner where the lights were low and the music softer.
“So,” he said, handing her a glass of champagne. “What do you do, Delilah Knox, tie rescuer?”
“I’m an assistant. Administrative. Very glamorous stuff,” she said, sipping the drink.
He tilted his head. “You don’t talk like most people in this room.”
“Because I’m not one of them.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
She laughed. “Easy for the billionaire to say.”
He leaned closer. “You always this blunt?”
“Pretty much.”
“I like that,” he said, his voice lower now.
Delilah’s heart did something stupid in her chest. They talked for almost an hour about nothing and everything.
He told her about growing up in Seattle and about crashing his first startup in college. She told him about working three jobs through school and about her dream of running a nonprofit bookstore.
At one point, he looked down at her hands. “You have ink on your fingers.”
“I was labeling donation books this morning,” she said.
He smiled. “You’re not like anyone I’ve met.”
“And you’re not what I expected, either,” she admitted.
“How so?”
“I figured billionaires were colder. You’re kind of… kind of what?”
She looked up at him. “Normal.”
He laughed again, softer this time. “That’s a first.”
A server passed by with plates of tiny desserts. Nolan grabbed one and handed it to her. “You like chocolate?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Then try this. It’s from Paris. The chef was flown in just for tonight.”
Delilah blinked. “Is that a flex?”
“Absolutely,” he said, grinning.
She took a bite. It was ridiculous. “Okay, that’s not fair,” she said. “Now normal chocolate is ruined.”
“And now you have to see the rooftop,” he said casually.
She blinked. “Is that code for something?”
He laughed. “No. There’s a real rooftop with a view. Come on.”
He took her hand again without asking. She let him. They took a private elevator up.
When the doors opened, Delilah gasped. The city lights stretched out in every direction. A glass railing wrapped around the edge. A waiter in a white jacket stood nearby with more champagne.
“You bring all your guests up here?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “Just you.”
She turned to him. “Why?”
“Because you touched my tie like it was the most natural thing in the world,” he said. “And you made me laugh. And because for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m at a business event.”
Delilah looked into his eyes. “You’re serious?”
“I am,” he said. “And I don’t care if it’s insane. I want to see you again.”
She hesitated. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough to want to,” he said. “Say yes.”
She looked down at their linked hands, then back at him. “Yes,” she said softly.
Nolan Strickland smiled like a man who just closed the most important deal of his life.
