CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
NATHAN
I HADN’T EXPECTED to be sitting across from Dalton in his office this early on a Monday, sipping black coffee like we were just two guys catching up after a long week. But here we were.
“So?” Dalton said, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, the picture of casual judgment. “How was your weekend?”
“It was nice.”
“Nice?” he repeated, watching me a little too closely now. “What changed?”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t do ‘nice,’ Edge.” He leaned forward slightly. “You are calculated. Controlled. Intentional. This,” he gestured vaguely toward me. “This looks different.”
I held his gaze, unimpressed. “You’re reading too much into it.”
“Am I?” Dalton’s brow lifted. “Because from where I’m sitting, you finally got what you wanted and now you don’t know what to do with it.”
I ran a hand over my face, trying to push down the warmth creeping into my chest. The weekend had been amazing, but it wasn’t that simple.
Not when every instinct in my body still whispered caution. Every time I looked at Elise, I felt the subtle, gnawing reminder that she didn’t know the whole story. She didn’t know why I’d pursued her or what was at stake.
I drained the rest of my coffee and leaned back in my seat, trying to mask the swirl of thoughts inside my head, but the memory hit anyways.
The sound of the glass striking the coffee table when he dropped it, shattering into pieces, the sharp cracks echoing in my chest. I’d never seen my dad cry, not really, but a week after my mother’s funeral his hands shook, his shoulders slumped, and for the first time, I realized grief could make a man both terrifying and broken.
I froze in the doorway, small and invisible, learning that silence was survival. I had to hide my fear, confusion, and weakness or they would swallow me whole. That night, I learned control. Over my words. Over my expressions, and over my narrative.
Everything else was chaos.
I shook the memory off, forcing my focus back to Dalton, who was leaning forward with sharp eyes.
“She’s different,” I said carefully, keeping my tone neutral. “She’s not what I expected. She’s not just smart or easy to be around. She challenges me. Keeps me off balance.”
Dalton leaned back, smirking slightly, though his eyes never left me. “Off balance, huh? You can try to control her, plan every step, but she’s not just another deal to close.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me. He was right. And yet, part of me still couldn’t shake the need to control this. To make sure nothing went wrong. Not with the deadline looming. Not with everything riding on this.
“I know,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. But even as I spoke, a knot twisted in my chest.
“You’ve got two months,” he said. “And for the first time since I’ve known you, you’re hesitating.”
I didn’t answer.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
“It’s not that simple,” I said finally.
“No,” Dalton agreed easily. “It’s not.” His expression shifted, the amusement fading into something more focused.
“But let’s not pretend this is just about feelings either.
You’ve got a timeline. A condition you don’t get to ignore,” he continued, his voice steady but edged with something firmer.
“And I know you don’t need me to remind you what’s waiting on the other side of that.
” Dalton leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees.
“That kind of outcome doesn’t come around twice,” he said. “Not for you. Not for me.”
There it was.
Not just concern.
Stake.
“I know,” I said, quieter now.
Dalton’s brow lifted, his gaze sharpening as he studied me. “Do you?” he asked. “Because right now, it looks like you’re seriously considering risking it.”
I set my mug down, my fingers brushing over the rim until it was a blur. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” Dalton raised an eyebrow. “You mean you’ve actually started caring. That’s what you mean, isn’t it? That’s a problem, Nathan. Because the more you feel, the harder it gets to keep lying to her.”
I stayed silent.
“And if you tell her the truth now,” he said, “you don’t just risk losing her. You risk losing the company too.” Dalton held my gaze. “Stick to the plan. In two months, everything lines up exactly the way it’s supposed to and it won't matter how you got there.”
The word “plan” made my stomach twist. It was exactly what I feared. The thing I’d tried to control so meticulously now threatened to unravel on its own.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, flashing back again, not to my dad this time, but to a rare moment of silence after my mom’s death when everything I’d lost felt too heavy to carry.
I’d watched, powerless, as life handed me chaos and grief, and I swore I’d never let that happen again.
That I’d control what I could, even if it meant manipulating the people around me.
I exhaled slowly, leaning forward. “I’ll handle it,” I said finally. But even as I spoke, the words felt hollow, weighed down by the memory of my past and the impossible choice looming ahead.