Chapter 46
GABBY
A few days later…
The office feels different at midnight. It’s silent, aside from the low thrum of the HVAC and the occasional creek of the building swaying. Everyone’s gone.
Aside from me and my ever-demanding boss.
I lean over in my seat, spotting his office door at the far end of the hall. The frosted glass doesn’t let me see anything inside, other than the faint amber glow of his desk lamp and his shadowed figure moving here and there.
I smile. I place my hand on my belly, like I have so many times since learning the news. My babies are in there, my middle finally starting to swell.
After soaking in the sight of him in the office, I ease back into my chair.
I absently swirl my hand over my stomach while my free hand scrolls through the Share Purchase Agreement.
Final markup of the Dandelion-AngelCorp merger—checked.
Revised capitalization table—checked. Schedules of assumed liabilities, IP assignments, closing deliverables from both sides.
Everything is there. Johan’s holdings shifted, and our audit trails line up perfectly.
My gaze drags over to Peter’s old holdings. Peter.
My father.
I still can’t bring myself to call him that, even in my head. Maybe in time, assuming he sticks to his word and ends this goddamn war. Then I can think about a name change.
Until then, he’s Peter.
I shake my head. There’s still more to do besides reflect on how insane and twisted my family tree became over the last couple of months.
I flip over to the articles of merger we’ll file once the ink’s dry, then the board resolutions and CEO certifications.
My phone buzzes. Angie. That brings a smile to my face.
Please tell me you’re not still at work.
Fine, I won’t tell you.
Girl! Okay, we’re doing lunch tomorrow. No arguments. We’ve got a baby shower to plan!
Deal. I follow the text up with a heart emoji, then set my phone back on my desk.
I glance at the corner of my monitor.
11:59 p.m.
The last time I saw those numbers glowing at me from a screen, I was halfway out the door, adrenaline and rage boiling inside me, ready to tell that prick boss of mine that I quit. I’d marched down the hall totally prepared to tell him to go straight to hell.
Instead, I found him with his hand around his cock, growling my name.
My phone chimes again. It’s Sasha.
My office. Now.
My heart skips a beat. For a moment, I’m back to the woman I was months ago, scared as hell of my tyrant of a boss. But reality kicks in, and a smile spreads across my face. The old me would’ve bristled at the command. But the new me? She knows he’s more kitten than tiger these days.
I save my changes, close out of the document management system, and stand, stretching until my spine cracks in that oh-so-satisfying way.
The floor is so quiet that my footsteps sound almost like I’m trespassing.
I pause a second outside of his office. Now the memory of that night is clear as a movie in my mind, the righteous fury I felt, the sight of him stroking his length. I put my hand on the handle and push.
He’s not touching himself this time.
This time, Sasha’s behind his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up along those delicious forearms. His hair is a little mussed, like he’s dragged his hand through it too many times. A spreadsheet is open on one monitor, an email on the other—probably from Johan. The city is blue and gold behind him.
He looks up the second I step inside. “There she is.” His voice is low and warm and sensual. “My brilliant CFO.”
I snort and smile. “I never officially agreed to that, remember.”
His mouth curves. “It’s a formality. Functionally, you are. Have been for a while. The board just hasn’t caught up to reality. And neither have you, it seems.”
I shut the door behind me and lean against it, crossing my arms. “You know, some bosses just send an email. They don’t summon their staff like a supervillain.”
He sits back, watching me the way he always seems to do now, as if making sure I’m safe and comfortable and taken care of in every way. Then he chuckles.
“Perhaps I like to play the role of supervillain every now and then.”
I smile. “Your heart’s too big for that.”
“The reason you’re here is because some members of the staff can’t be properly thanked over email.”
I crane my neck a bit toward his monitors.
“Thank me? Please don’t tell me you’re thanking me in advance for an insane deadline you’re about to lay on me.
Because if you say the words ‘by close of business tomorrow,’ I just might scream so loud, I’d blast the windows up here open and suck us all out. ”
“It’s not a deadline,” he says. “It’s that we’re ahead—for once.”
“Ahead? Are you serious?”
“The definitive agreement’s locked,” he says. “Johan signed off an hour ago. Peter’s attorneys caved on the last sticking clause. We go to signature packet in the morning and file with the SEC by Friday. That’s it. We’re done.”
A little thrill runs through me. Relief, pride, triumph. We’d been close to getting Johan to agree before, but the Peter factor threatened to complicate things. He could’ve made things very, very hard for us if he’d wanted to.
But he didn’t. It’s done.
“So we did it. We actually did it.”
“You did it,” he corrects. “I just wrote checks and signed off when I needed to. This is your baby. So, in that sense, I suppose you’re having triplets.”
That gets a snort and a smirk out of me. “I see the dad humor is coming along nicely. But this wasn’t a solo job. The whole staff played a role.”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he looks at me for a long, quiet beat, something shifting in his eyes.
The amusement drains out, leaving something raw.
He stands and walks around the desk slowly.
When he stops in front of me, we’re close enough that I can smell his cologne—a dark, clean, woodsy scent I associate with safety and danger all at the same time.
“Sasha?” I ask. The silence is starting to feel heavy, like he has another confession for me.
He lifts his hand, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger at my jaw. “Do you know what tonight is?” he asks quietly.
“Wednesday? No, Friday? God, I’ve lost track again.”
He shakes his head. “Four months from the day you tried to quit.”
“You’ve kept track?”
“Absolutely. Why would I ever forget the day we conceived our children?” He glances around me. “I remember before you came in. I was in the middle of hating myself for wanting you so badly. I was so goddamn turned on. Just the sound of your voice was enough to make me hard.”
That gives me another flash of tingles—but, this time, between my thighs.
“Anyway,” he says. “The look on your face when you stormed in, before you noticed what I was doing, I was certain you were going to tell me to screw off and never come back.”
“I was.”
He chuckles. “Instead,” he says, thumb stroking my cheekbone, “that’s the night we began.”
My heart’s beating so hard that I’m starting to get a little lightheaded. “Why do I feel like you didn’t call me in here to talk about timestamps.”
He exhales, the sound shaky in a way I’ve never heard from him. “I called you in,” he says, “because I can’t go into this next part of my life without saying something I should’ve said a long time ago.”
“Sasha—”
“I love you, Gabriella,” he says. “I love you in ways that make no sense for a man like me. I love you enough that I would let myself be weak in front of you. I love you enough that I would put a bullet in my head before letting anyone else touch a hair on yours.”
Tears arrive so quickly in my eyes that it’s a little embarrassing. “You’re late,” I say weakly. “You’re supposed to say that before any life-threatening abductions or gunfights.”
He laughs. “I am late. I am. I’m late, and I haven’t treated you the way you deserve. I’ve lied to you. Lost my temper like an animal in front of you. Failed to protect you when I should have.” He swallows, hard. “I’m ashamed of how long it took me to be to be worthy of saying this to you.”
A single tear escapes. He catches it with his thumb, cursing under his breath in Russian. “I don’t know if I deserve you,” he says. “But I’m ready to spend the rest of my life proving myself worthy of your love.”
My chest hurts in a wonderful and terrible way. “Sasha,” I whisper, “you big dramatic idiot. I love you, too. You don’t need to prove a damn thing.”
“Perhaps. But I hope you do accept this particular proof.”
He steps away for just long enough to move to his desk. He opens the top drawer, pulls something out, then comes back.
It’s a ring, a simple platinum band with a solitaire diamond so beautiful, I can’t help but gasp, my fingers shooting to my lips.
He doesn’t kneel. Instead, he takes my left hand, holding it between both of his.
“I made a vow to my father to keep you safe. I failed more than once, but I won’t fail again. And now I’m asking you to let me make another vow—this one to you.”
My throat tightens.
“Marry me, Gabriella Resse. Let me be the father our children deserve. Let me spend the rest of my life proving I can be more than the monster I’ve been.”
The ring glints as I gaze at it. My heart pounds.
“Yes. Yes. Sasha, yes. Of course, yes. I love you. I love you so much.”
He exhales like I’ve just thrown him a lifeline. He slides the ring onto my finger, a perfect fit.