Deborah Mello - Passionate Premiere

She beamed as one of the top radio personalities and television hosts rushed her with a microphone in his hand. In her classic Christian Dior couture gown and Christian Louboutin red-bottomed heels, she looked absolutely stunning. And her face radiated joy.

“Ryan, it’s great to be here!” Dahlia exclaimed.

“Well, you look great,” the host declared. “How does it feel to be the center of attention tonight?”

Dahlia smiled sweetly. “Well, I can tell you that I’m immensely proud that Victory’s Daughter has gotten the many accolades it has. I loved the story, and I loved being able to tell it on film. I have to acknowledge the amazing cast and crew who helped to make it such a success. I couldn’t have done it without them, and I’m confident that Brad, Hillary and Halle will all walk away with Oscars tonight for their stunning performances.”

After fielding a few more questions, Dahlia continued to make her way down the red-carpeted path, posing for pictures and doing short interviews for the other major networks until she and Drake made their way to the building’s entrance and were whisked inside and escorted to their seats.

Once inside she expressed her annoyance with her escort. “Drake, dear, you are going to wrinkle my dress with all the hugging. I need a little breathing room, my friend.”

Drake chuckled warmly. “Can you blame me for wanting to hold tight to you, beautiful? You know how much I adore you, Dahlia!” He leaned to kiss her closed mouth but was met with her cheek instead.

The woman rolled her eyes, taking a deep inhale of breath. “Drake, you know I adore you and I consider you one of my closest friends, but you and I don’t roll like that. And I hate having to say that over and over again. I don’t want us to become bad friends, so please—” she paused momentarily “—please, cut me some slack!”

Drake heaved a deep sigh and nodded. “I had to try, Dahlia. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t?” he asked with a slight shrug and a wry smile.

Dahlia chuckled softly, reaching up to give him a light kiss on his cheek. “I still love you, but you’ll need to find someone else to take home to bed tonight.”

Laughing, Drake gave her a quick wink. “You won’t be disappointed if I do?”

She shook her head. “Not at all! But for now I need to go freshen up my makeup. Why don’t you go say hello to Eastwood? He looks like he wants to speak with you,” she said as she turned. She tossed him a quick look over her shoulder. “And don’t worry if I don’t come back. I’ll make sure there’s someone else here to take my place.” She sauntered in the opposite direction.

“Take care of that for me!” Drake laughed as he blew her a kiss.

Out in the lobby, she gestured for one of the Academy pages. The young woman smiled excitedly at her. “Yes, Ms. Morrow? How may I help you?”

“I absolutely love my dress,” Dahlia whispered as she leaned in conspiratorially. “But it’s not the most comfortable thing to sit down in.” She giggled softly. “Would you please send a seat-filler to my spot? I plan to stay in the greenroom until it’s my turn to present.”

“Yes, Ms. Morrow. Will Mr. Houston be joining you?”

Dahlia shook her head. “No, don’t disturb him. He’ll be fine. Just send someone very, very pretty to sit beside him,” she said as she headed down the corridor toward the back of the stage, where there was a holding area for performers and those who were presenting.

As she rounded the corner, Dahlia ran smack into Owen Kestner, one of the evening’s nominees for Best Supporting Actor. A former NFL professional, the rough-and-tumble linebacker smiled at her excitedly.

“Dahlia Morrow! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” the handsome man exclaimed.

“Owen, how are you?” Dahlia said sweetly.

“Just a little nervous. How about you?”

Dahlia nodded. “Nervous, too, but excited.” She met his gaze evenly, taking note of his good looks and muscular frame. There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he stared at her intently. “So who’s your date this evening?” she asked coyly.

The man chuckled warmly. “I’m riding solo tonight,” he said, tossing her a quick wink. “But I saw you came with Drake Houston.”

Dahlia smiled as she took a step closer to him. She drew her fingers against the front of his shirt, adjusting his bow tie and the front of his tuxedo jacket. She tilted her head to stare up at him. “I did come with Drake, but it doesn’t mean I’ll be leaving with him,” she said, her tone dropping to a seductive whisper.

Owen smiled, his eyes brightening with interest. “And I imagine you’ll be hitting all the A-list parties after the ceremony?”

Dahlia grinned. “If that works for you?” she said, sensing that her A-list access was all that he would be looking for.

“Would you mind if my friend Charles tagged along?” he queried, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Dahlia laughed. “Not at all.”

Owen nodded eagerly, his smile bright. “My limo or yours?”

Dahlia laughed, winking her own eye. “Yours. I don’t want to leave my friend Drake stranded.”

* * *

“But it’s not like you had tickets?” Mason Boudreaux said, eyeing his younger brother with confusion. “Or did you have tickets?”

Guy Boudreaux cut his eyes skyward, annoyed by his older brother’s question. He nodded his head, the long length of his dreadlocks waving against his broad shoulders. “Of course I had tickets. Good seats, as a matter of fact. And invitations to the best Oscar parties. You can’t beat that kind of networking, brother!”

Mason nodded his understanding. “Well, I appreciate you giving up the Oscars to make it to my wedding.”

“What are best men for?” Guy said, beaming widely as he looked from his brother to his new sister-in-law.

The newly minted Phaedra Boudreaux smiled back. “So, what will you do when you do get back to California?” she asked, snuggling close to her new husband.

“I’ll be filming a commercial next week. I’m now the spokesman for the new Chanel for Men cologne.”

Having a lightbulb moment, Guy suddenly leaned forward in his seat. “Hey, by the way, Phaedra, I could really use some new head shots. Do you think you can hook me up?”

Mason rolled his eyes. “That means he wants a family discount!” he said as he hugged Phaedra tightly.

“No,” Guy protested. “That means I want it free.”

Phaedra, an award-winning professional photographer, laughed. “I think we could probably work something out.”

Guy winked. “I’d like that,” he said, laughing easily, his magnetic smile beaming brightly.

Mason shook his head. After a lengthy holiday abroad he was ready to be off a plane and back on land. He’d needed to resolve some unfinished business in Thailand, and the past week had been a test of his fortitude. He was thankful to finally be back in the United States and headed home.

After whirlwind visits to Asia and France, he and his family had stopped in London to refuel and again in New Orleans to drop off his sister Kamaya and her twin, Kendrick, at their parents’ home. Now they were headed to Dallas, Texas, to spend time with the Stallion family, Phaedra’s newfound kin, four brothers who shared her bloodline. Guy would be continuing on to Los Angeles by his lonesome. And Guy was anxious to get back.

“My money’s on Victory’s Daughter to win Best Picture,” Guy was saying. He and Phaedra were knee-deep in a conversation about movies.

“I absolutely loved Victory’s Daughter,” Phaedra exclaimed. “And it has to get an award for Best Cinematography. The imagery was spectacular!”

“Have you ever thought about doing films?” Guy asked, remembering that his new sister-in-law was renowned for her skills as a photojournalist.