She leaves, her heels clicking against the floor like tiny exclamation points punctuating her threat.
“Well,” Emma says after a moment, “that was dramatic.”
“I’m sorry. I should have—“
“Stop.” She squeezes my hand. “You didn’t let her manipulate us. You stood up for us. For me.” Her smile turns mischievous. “Though I have to say, watching you defend my honor in a grease-stained suit this morning when that contractor questioned my analysis was pretty impressive, too.”
Just like that, the tension breaks. Because that’s us—finding light in dark moments, strength in each other, humor in chaos.
“Was there a trust fund condition?” she asks after a moment, her voice casual but her eyes watchful.
“No. There was a clause, decades ago, part of how my grandfather structured the family holdings. Dad eliminated it before Sophie was even born.” I meet her gaze directly. “Clara knows that. She’s grasping at anything she thinks might drive a wedge between us.”
Emma nodded, relief evident in her relaxed shoulders. “She underestimates us.”
“Everyone does.”
“Come home with me?” I ask softly as the waiter brings our check. “We can open that wine you like and maybe finish a conversation without corporate sabotage attempts.”
Her smile is answer enough, warm and certain.
As we leave the restaurant, her hand warm in mine, I’m struck again by how right this feels. My life has completely transformed since reconciling my feelings for her.
“You know,” Emma says as we walk to my car, “Clara did us a favor.”
“Oh?”
“She proved what I’ve always known—that we’re unstoppable. In the boardroom, on the factory floor, and everywhere.”
I pull her close, kissing her under the stars that seem bright tonight. Because she’s right.
We are unstoppable.
And we’re just getting started.
As I open the car door for her, I’m struck by how far we’ve come from the careful, professional distance we tried to maintain just weeks ago. We’ve completely embraced this partnership that makes us both better, braver, more authentic, and more willing to get our hands dirty for what matters.
And nothing matters more than the woman beside me, who sees beyond corporate facades to the heart of what makes systems and people work at their best.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emma
Some mornings just feel like victory.
I’m standing in Lucas’s office at dawn, reviewing the stunning success metrics from our manufacturing plant integration while he finishes a call with the Johnsons. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Silver Springs is just waking up; the skyline is touched with gold as the sun crests the horizon.
The early sunlight paints patterns across his desk, highlighting the organized chaos that’s become our shared workspace—my color-coded sustainability reports mixed with his financial projections and two coffee cups. A photo of us at the plant last week sits prominently between our work, covered in machine grease but grinning like we’d discovered buried treasure instead of an innovative emissions reduction technique.
It’s been a whirlwind week since our hands-on approach at the manufacturing plant concluded. The integration team worked around the clock to incorporate our findings into the final system, and the results have exceeded even my most optimistic projections.
“The Johnsons are beyond impressed,” Lucas announces, hanging up his phone. His smile holds that mix of pride and warmth that still makes my heart skip. “Their efficiency is up 40% with the custom interface.” He leans forward, eyes bright with excitement. “Mr. Johnson said that we’ve revolutionized how they approach sustainable manufacturing. However, he insists we keep Gordon Junior’s special override button. Something about the rubber duck being the heart and soul of their operation.”
“The duck stays in the family,” I agree, moving to perch on the edge of his desk. “Though I still want to know how it became their unofficial mascot.”
“Probably another brilliant employee innovation we didn’t expect to find.” He tugs me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Like a certain analyst who sees possibilities everyone else misses.”
“Very smooth, Mr. Walker. But we’re at work.”