10. Nathan - The Final Deal
Chapter Ten
NATHAN - THE FINAL DEAL
T he morning air carries a quiet serenity as Dana stands at our suite’s balcony railing, her hair catching the early sunlight, the soft waves gleaming gold where the light touches them. She hasn’t noticed me yet, and I take a moment to memorize the sight of her—the woman who turned my world upside down in the best way possible.
The irony isn’t lost on me. I’ve spent my career analyzing risks, treating every interaction like a chess match. I’m always at least three steps ahead. But now? I run my thumb over the edge of the papers in my pocket, freshly pulled from my suitcase. The weight of them is heavier than anything I’ve ever carried.
For the first time, I don’t know if I’m making the right move.
She shifts, as if she senses me watching, then turns, lips curving into a soft smile. “You’re up early.”
“I never went to bed,” I admit, stepping toward her. “Too much on my mind.”
Her brow furrows with concern—the same look she gives me when I’ve worked through meals or let business consume me entirely. She doesn’t have to say a word. I already know what she’s thinking.
“Is it about the deal?”
“No,” I reply quickly. Too quickly. “The deal’s fine. Harris is practically begging to sign after seeing us together.”
She arches a brow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “So we’re good actors, then.”
Something about that stings.
“Dana,” I step closer, my hand brushing against hers on the railing. “This stopped being an act the moment I kissed you for the first time. Maybe even before that.”
Her lips part, but no words come out. I take that as my cue to keep going.
I exhale sharply and pull the papers from my pocket, unfolding them with steady hands despite the riot in my chest. “I meant to bring this up later. After we got back.” I hesitate, my throat tightening. "But I don’t want to wait."
She blinks, her gaze flickering between my face and the papers. “Nathan… what is this?”
I swallow. “My resignation.”
Silence. Her breath catches.
“I’m done,” I continue, voice steady. “With Clarke Enterprises. With the board. With the entire fucking power struggle that comes with it.”
Her brows knit together. “But… Nathan, that’s your legacy.”
“No. It was my obligation.” My jaw tightens, but I hold her gaze. “My legacy is mine to decide.”
Dana stares at me like she doesn’t quite believe what she’s hearing. “You’re serious?”
I nod. “I should have done this sooner. But last night made it clear—this, you, us—this is what I want. And I’m tired of sacrificing everything else for something I never really chose.”
She’s silent for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, her lips part into something between a smile and disbelief.
“You’re insane.”
I grin. “Only a little. But I mean every word.”
Her eyes search mine, flickering between uncertainty and something else—something softer, more vulnerable.
I exhale sharply. “These past few days, you’ve shown me what’s been missing from my life. Not just success—I’ve had plenty of that—but something real. Something I didn’t even know I needed until you.” I place the papers in her hands, watching as her fingers tighten around them. “Open it.”
She hesitates before unfolding them, scanning the text. Her breath catches, her expression shifting—disbelief, surprise, denial, and then something dangerously close to hope.
Her voice wavers. “You’re… signing the company over to me?”
“It’s already yours.” My voice is steady, certain. “You’ve been running it behind the scenes for years anyway. And I know, without a doubt, that no one will protect it the way you will.”
Dana blinks at me, eyes wide. “Nathan, I can’t… this is too much.”
I step closer, tilting her chin so she meets my gaze. “You can. And it’s not too much—it’s exactly what you deserve.”
Dana brings her free hand up to cover her mouth. Shit, did I do this wrong? Her eyes glisten, and I can’t tell for certain if the unshed tears are happy or fearful. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Say yes,” I murmur. We’ve already gotten this far. “Say that you’re willing to give us a chance.”
She’s silent for a moment, her gaze searching mine like she’s trying to find an answer buried there. Her eyes—God, her eyes. Deep, rich, and dark, like a secret she hasn’t decided if she wants to share.
“I’m scared,” she admits softly.
“I know,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I’m scared too. But we don’t have to figure it all out right now. We just have to take the first step.” I press a gentle kiss to her temple, lingering just long enough to let the warmth settle between us.
She surprises me by leaning up, brushing her lips against mine in a light kiss. Soft. Barely there. It feels like both a promise and a surrender. Like she’s testing the weight of trust.
When she pulls away, her cheeks are flushed. “You’re impossible.” Her tone is teasing, but there’s something else there too—something tentative, like she doesn’t want to believe the good thing right in front of her.
I smirk, letting my thumb graze her knuckles. “And you’re irresistible.” My voice is light, teasing, but my grip on her hand tightens—a silent reassurance that I mean every word.
She arches a brow, her lips curving just enough to send my pulse into a stumble. “Seems like a good match to me.”
I shift closer, trailing my fingers along the inside of her wrist, feeling the steady beat of her pulse beneath my touch. Steady. Strong. Mine .
She exhales, shaking her head, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she nudges her knee against mine beneath the railing, a casual touch that somehow makes me feel more grounded than anything else has in years.
“Fine. Let’s see where this goes. But if you start micromanaging our relationship, I’m out.”
I chuckle, catching her chin between my fingers. “Deal.”
She rolls her eyes, but when I hold out my hand, she takes it—interlocking our fingers like she’s sealing something bigger than just an agreement.
Then a knock sounds at the door.
Dana tilts her head, brow furrowing. It’s early. Too early. I can see the question forming in her mind—who the hell else is awake at sunrise?
She pulls away, padding over to the door, her silhouette framed by the soft morning light filtering through the sheer curtains. I watch her remove the chain before easing the door open, exchanging a brief word with whoever is outside.
And then she steps aside, and a crew member appears with a tray of mimosas.
“Compliments of Mr. Harris.”
I exhale through my nose, already irritated. What the hell is he playing at?
But when Dana turns back to me, her lips pressing together to suppress a laugh, I decide—fuck it.
There’s no competition. Harris can send all the drinks in the world. I’m the one she’s waking up with.
And I don’t plan on giving her a reason to want anything else.