Page 70 of His Secret Merger

Ours.

The faint sound of Damian’s voice floated in from the next room, low and steady as he wrapped up a call. He’d been juggling details all morning—last-minute flight plans, real estate agents, a string of texts from Anthony checking in about the board meeting later this week.

I stood, smoothing the fabric of the simple silk slip dress I’d pulled from the back of my closet. It had been waiting for an occasion I couldn’t name until now. I laid it gently across the bed, next to the navy suit Damian had already set out.

Behind me, I heard his footsteps.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice softer now. Closer.

I turned to find him leaning in the doorway, his tie loose, his sleeves rolled back to his elbows. That small furrow in his brow was still there, the one that only appeared when something mattered more than he wanted to admit.

I smiled. “I’m sure. And I can’t wait to meet Mateo.”

He pushed off the doorframe, crossing to me in a few slow strides. His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing lightly over my cheekbones. “You’re sure you don’t want the whole thing? The flowers, the… whatever it is people do?”

I laughed softly, curling my fingers around his wrists. “I don’t need the whole thing. I just need you.”

The tension in his shoulders loosened at that, a breath escaping between parted lips. “Vegas it is,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “No backing out now. Besides, we don’t want to disappoint Mateo. He has already texted me twice today to check in on us.”

“I was never planning on it. I can’t wait to meet him.”

He pulled back with a grin, his eyes gleaming like they always did before he let his guard down completely. “Then we better not miss our flight.”

I nodded, grabbing my phone and turning toward my purse on the dresser. A text from Gabrielle waited, a string of emojis—champagne bottles, wedding rings, an over-the-top heart-eyed face.

Gabrielle: I LOVE this for you. Send me pics or I’ll disown you.

I snorted, typing back a quick promise with a laughing emoji before glancing at Damian, setting my phone down, and pressing a palm lightly to my stomach. A faint swirl of nausea climbed up my throat—a side effect I’d come to recognize after weeks of hormone shots, pills, and appointments. I breathed through it, counting backwards like the nurse had taught me, until it ebbed into nothing more than a dull queasiness.

Only a few more days until the transfer. Only a few more days until another try.

I wasn’t going to let it ruin today.

“Gabrielle sends her full approval. And threats,” I said.

He chuckled under his breath, reaching for his cufflinks. “Good. We’ll need all the approval we can get.”

I watched him for a moment as he buttoned his sleeves, the steady, unhurried confidence in every move. And beneath it, that same flicker I’d glimpsed the first time he’d told me he wanted more than just the games we’d played.

“You look happy,” I said quietly.

He paused, tilting his head toward me. “I am.”

A beat passed between us, warm and full.

And for the first time I realized my dreams were coming true. Not because of the mansion, or the jet waiting for us at the private terminal, or even the ring he’d slipped onto my finger at the gala a few months ago. It was him.

Always him.

“Come on,” Damian said, offering his hand. “Let’s go make this official.”

I slid my hand into his, letting his warmth steady me.

“We already are,” I murmured.

But still, my heart leapt as he led me toward the door.

Because sometimes ‘official’ wasn’t a formality.

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