Were bowties always this tight? Harvey adjusted his neck space for the umpteenth time, unsure if this feeling of suffocation was from his actual necktie or from the fact that he was going to be getting a lot of heat for being a horndog tonight.
He descended the stairs to the gala, ready for the fight. First up, Archie Oswald.
The guy was the owner of a startup company regarding social media that had gone viral in the past year. Harvey wasn't sure how much the company had given the firm, but he was well aware it was in the range of tens of millions. So, a big client.
"Harvey Specter," the man purred.
Harvey remembered he didn't like the guy much. He was a dude who was brilliant but also someone with a manbun and a beard, all in form of a guy who was barely 5'7". He remembered he had been Paul Porter's client. But the guy was still important, so he had to protect his name.
"Archie! How's the startup?" Harvey tried not to physically look down on the man.
"Fine, fine. You here by yourself?"
Dear lord, the interrogation squad was already firing its shots.
"Yes actually, my date got sick last minute and couldn't make it."
"Oh," he responded, the curtness of the answer not escaped by Harvey. "What a shame."
Harvey put on a tight smile, using every inch of his self control not to wipe off that smirk on the guy's face as he walked away.
He needed Donna now more than ever, to save his reputation and more importantly, to save himself.
He looked around, hands in his pockets. At that moment, he swore he saw everyone turn their gaze away from him and pretending to continue fake conversations.
When he was in high school, Harvey remembered he had gone through a short phase in which he had wanted to become an actor. The fame and the money seemed so glamorous, and his aim was to get his own star in Hollywood. Naturally, he'd been upset when his father had kindly told him to aim for a more reasonable dream when he wanted to quit school altogether and move to Los Angeles; the paparazzi and being constantly watched would drive him up the wall.
Now, as he was under constant scrutiny, Harvey realized his father was always a wise man. He just didn't always see it in time.
With a sigh, he mentally prepared himself to go back to mingling and socializing in meager attempts to clear things up.
Meanwhile, Donna was just about to leave her apartment after spending two hours getting ready. She was currently wearing the first dress she had picked to try on during her shopping outing with Harvey that one time, the gorgeous red one with the obvious cleavage that Harvey disapproved simply because "she looked too good" and he didn't want her to be "eyed like a piece of candy". Well, with her red hair all spread out in soft curls, her eyelashes elongated to twice its length, and her eyes painted a beautiful combination of light and dark grey, she would most certainly be looked at lecherously. And for once, she welcomed this reaction. Simply because it would put Harvey in his damn place, letting him know what exactly he missed out on, while simultaneously giving her the ability to shut that dick Ebenmeyer up once and for all.
She'd always loved killing two birds with one stone.
Her phone alarm buzzed, telling her to leave. As a final check up, she did a 360 around her mirror, inevitably smirking at her own relection. Donna was never a woman to be modest, but she was sure that if Ray could see her now, he'd have a heart attack from how beautiful she looked.
Harvey Specter knew he really shouldn't be joking about his life, but all he really wanted to do right now was kill himself.
The firm's clients had been unstoppable. Emily Gold, Dmitri Renner, Mark Wong, Johann Bertram, and Natalie Cooper had all chatted him up only to ask indirectly about Donna and then smirk when he repeated excuses as to why she couldn't come. Not to mention the endless daggers Jessica shot him with her eyes each time they made eye contact.
He could see it already.
Hi, I'm Harvey Specter, she would mock him, can I offer you my services of saying I'll handle it but not actually doing shit? He was looking forward to it already.
In the midst of finding a waiter for yet another flute of champagne, Harvey couldn't help but overhear a growing wave of murmurs pass by through the crowd. He looked around in a daze because he didn't know what was going on until his eyes landed on the top of the stairs. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
There was Donna, in all her glory. Stunning, gorgeous, or absolutely beautiful didn't do justice to how she looked. He was absolutely floored, which naturally followed with an innate instinct of kicking himself for ever letting her go.
Her beauty was really, really something else.
And finally did it occur to him that she was here because he had asked her to be, meaning she had come for him. Without thinking about all the haughty redemption he was about to get, he walked towards the stairs as everybody parted the way for him to reach his, ahem, wife.
She descended gracefully, extending her hand for him. He was surprised she was acting so cordial.
"Donna," he barely choked, "you look-"
"Save it. I'm here to do you a favor because I'm a nice person and because I deserved this dress, which I bought with your card, by the way. But this is the last nice thing I'm doing for you, so try your best to live with that and hey!" she swatted him, almost playfully, "stop looking at my boobs."
Harvey blushed. "I-I-"
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. It's natural, you can't help it. I am Donna, by the way. Now whose ass do I need to kick?"
"Um, everyone's. I told them you were sick but none of them seemed to believe me, these assholes.."
"Well then. Let's just say I took a nap and felt better, which is also why I feel fashionably late. Let's go." She prepared to stride in front of him.
"Wait- Donna," he pulled her back with his hand.
"What?" she snapped. This was her shining moment of her acting career, she was already tired of all the damn waiting.
"About the reunion," he swallowed. " I know how it looks, but... I didn't sleep with Scottie. Just trust me."
She narrowed her eyes at him, momentarily forgetting why she was so upset with him in the first place.
"It's fine. We'll talk about it later." she responded slowly, her resolve softened.
The night turned much more present after the arrival of Donna Paulsen, though Harvey couldn't decide if it was because he could now put the clients back in their place or if that was always the case.
The two of them had gone around through the crowd yet again, this time with Donna by his side, literally. They had gone through Cooper and Bertram so far. He had anchored his hand around her waist and on some occasions when necessary he had pulled her in to kiss her on the forehead.
He was proud to see all the women glaring at Donna, though he wasn't surprised. It had usually always been that way. With the men, however, he wasn't sure if he should have felt satisfied or pissed when he found all the male clients zoning in for a brief second on a part of Donna's that wasn't her eyes. He always tightened his grip on her when it happened, as if to tell them she's mine.
Donna's head was swimming with emotion. On one hand, she was still convinced Harvey had done something shady with Scottie; how else would he explain the fact that she had been in the adjoining room, wearing his button-up that also screamed victory?
On the other, he looked very sincere. And she discovered that despite all the shit he had dragged her through, she desperately wished it to be true.
She reluctantly realized that she liked it when his hand was by her waist, that she belonged to him and he her. The forehead kisses weren't helping either. Every time he pulled her in, she prayed that her forehead wouldn't betray how her heart beat a little faster every time they were in closer proximity. But honestly, with the low and lingering gaze that he looked at her and the tender way he pulled her in, Donna began to let herself wonder- how much of this was pretend anyway?