Page 43 of Stuffed

"Good different?"

"The best kind." I kiss her slowly, deeply. "Stay tonight?"

Her smile is bright. “This is starting to become a habit, isn’t it?"

And as she curls into me, as snow falls softly outside my windows, I realize I'm done fighting this. Done pushing her away. Done pretending I don't want everything with her.

We stay tangled together for a while longer until my phone interrupts the moment. The ringtone tells me it's Asher.

"Don't answer it," Tessa murmurs against my chest, but we both know I have to.

"What?" I keep my voice low, not wanting to disturb the peace we've created.

"Just checking you haven't screwed things up yet," my brother says, entirely too cheerful. "Though from the tone of your voice, I'm guessing you haven't."

"Was there a point to this call?"

"Actually, yes." His voice turns serious. "Matthews is asking about the Baker acquisition. Says you've been dodging his calls."

I sigh, feeling Tessa tense against me. "I'll handle it tomorrow."

"He wants the paperwork tonight."

"It's nearly midnight."

"Since when has that ever mattered to Harold Matthews?" he asks, reminding me just how old and grumpy one of our richest and most powerful board members is.

I close my eyes, feeling my walls start to rebuild. "Fine. I'll email it within the hour."

"Zane…" Tessa sits up as I end the call, wrapping the sheet around herself. "Everything okay?"

"Just work." I press a kiss to her temple before sliding out of bed. "I need to send some documents to someone."

"At midnight?"

"Welcome to life as a Mercer." I pull on my pants, trying to keep the bitterness from my voice. "The company never sleeps."

She watches me dress, those blue eyes seeing too much as always. "You don't have to do everything their way, you know."

"Actually, I do." I button my shirt with more force than necessary. "That was the deal when I took over this division. His money, his rules."

"But it's your vision," she argues, coming to stand in front of me. "Your success. The board follows you, not him."

I catch her hands as she reaches for my tie. "You don't understand how all of this works."

"Then help me understand." She squeezes my fingers. "Let me in, Zane."

For a moment, I consider it. Consider telling her about how I’ve built this business on impossible standards. About the constant pressure to be perfect, to be better, to be more. About how even now, with all my success, it's never quite enough.

But that would mean being vulnerable. That would mean letting her see all my cracks, all my doubts, all my fears.

"I need to work," I say instead, stepping back. "You should get some sleep."

"Don't do that." Her voice is soft but firm. "Don't shut me out just because things got real."

"I'm not?—"

"You are." She grabs her dress, sliding it back on with efficient movements. "The moment work was mentioned, those walls came right back up."

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