Page 39 of His Secret Merger

“Long day,” I said, flashing a grin I didn’t feel.

She narrowed her eyes but didn’t press. She went back to scrolling her phone, one heel kicked lazily against the edge of the seat.

We slowed in front of a small pharmacy, its whitewashed walls and a green cross blinking faintly overhead. I slipped out quickly, pulling my jacket tightly against the early evening chill. Inside, the place smelled like antiseptic and mint. I grabbed the Advil easily enough.

The condoms were less graceful.

They were crammed between baby wipes and toothbrushes, like the universe was playing a joke. I snagged a box without overthinking it, tossing it onto the counter without ceremony.

The cashier didn’t blink. At least someone was having a normal day.

Bag tucked discreetly into my jacket pocket, I returned to the car. Juliette raised a brow. “Painkiller secured?”

I held up the Advil bottle like a trophy. “Wouldn’t want you thinking I’m grumpy without cause.”

She smirked. “You’re grumpy with cause.”

I shrugged, stretching one arm along the seat behind her, not quite touching but close enough to feel the static tension crackling between us.

“Don’t worry,” I said low. “I came prepared.”

Her eyes flared for half a heartbeat before she looked back out the window.

Small wins.

I’d take every one I could get.

The hotel was a grand stone structure perched just beyond the old town. Elegant without being gaudy. Timeless. Baden-Baden shimmered behind it: rolling vineyards, terra-cotta roofs, river mist hanging low over the hills.

I barely noticed.

I was too busy watching Juliette slide out of the car, adjust her carry-on, and flash the porter a polite, confident smile.

She was independent. Dangerous. Lethal to every last thread of restraint I had left.

The marble lobby was silent except for the soft murmur of water over a fountain.

The concierge smiled tightly as he tapped at his screen.

“There appears to be a mix-up,” he said in English. “You were both upgraded to our executive suite. Two bedrooms. Shared living space.”

I opened my mouth—to say what, I wasn’t even sure—but Juliette beat me to it.

“That’s fine,” she said easily. “We’re traveling together.”

I signed the slip with a flick of my wrist, without giving her a chance to change her mind. I stood there a moment too long, watching her, knowing exactly what I was walking into, and knowing I’d follow her anyway.

Every damn time.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Juliette

The hotel door clicked shut behind us with a soft, definitive sound. Thick carpet muted the steps we barely took inside, as if the room itself knew too much about tension and wasn’t about to interrupt it. I set my bag down carefully on the nearest chair, smoothing my palms against my slacks as if that could erase the electricity vibrating under my skin.

Damian tossed his jacket across the armrest without ceremony. He looked rumpled, tired, and maddeningly good—like every bad idea I’d ever wanted to make twice. For a long second, neither of us moved. Just breathing. Waiting.

The view from the balcony stretched out behind him—endless rows of vineyard hills dusted silver by the moonlight, yet I barely glanced at it. I couldn’t look away from him.

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