Page 55 of His Secret Merger

She tilted her head, studying me. “You know… you have a reputation, Damian Sinclair. Cool. Unshakable. Charming, when you want to be.”

I raised a brow. “When I want to be?”

Juliette smiled softly. “But under all that, you care. I see it. And you can’t fake that, and that’s one thing I love about you.”

I squeezed her hand once. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” I murmured, half a laugh in my throat.

Her smile deepened. “You like it.”

I exhaled, gently kissing her forehead. “Yeah,” I whispered, the truth escaping my lips unintentionally, “I love… it.” But as soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted not being able to simply say:

“Juliette, I love you, not just for your help or our friendship.”

By the time we wrapped up at Vérité, the city was slipping into night—headlights streaking down the boulevard, the air thick with that unmistakable Miami buzz of music, laughter, and distant waves.

Juliette brushed her hair back, tablet tucked under her arm as we headed for the door.

“So,” I said, falling into step beside her, “where do you want to eat?”

She glanced over, one brow lifting with a sly smile. “Are you asking me out, Sinclair?”

I smirked. “Maybe I’m asking us out. You’ve earned it.”

Her smile softened. “Somewhere with wine.”

“Done.” I pulled out my phone. “What if we loop in Gabrielle and Anthony?”

Her eyes flickered with surprise, pleased, maybe even a little touched. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I murmured, brushing a hand down her back, “why not? Let’s make it a night.”

Juliette texted Gabrielle, and within seconds, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and laughed. “They’re in. Aria is saving up for her first car and practically ran over to their house.”

I chuckled. “Resourceful family.”

“Yeah, but Gabrielle won’t have her for long. The family is moving to Orlando and they’re selling their home.”

“Humm. I haven’t seen the listing yet,” I muttered, making a mental note to watch for it.

We headed to Cipriani’s, where the four of us slipped into a corner booth, the city glittering through the windows behind us. The table hummed with easy conversation—Anthony ribbing me about selling off a California condo to saveThe Cut of Her Jib, Gabrielle teasing Juliette about how she was already turning the gala auction into her personal art crusade.

For once, I let myself lean back and just watch it all—their laughter, Juliette’s eyes lighting up as she talked about Reliable Art Services, Gabrielle resting her chin on Anthony’s shoulder.

Then, just as the waiter arrived to take our drink order, Gabrielle cleared her throat.

“Actually,” she said, her cheeks flushing pink, “I’ll skip the wine.”

Juliette blinked, lowering her menu. “What? Gabrielle, you never skip the wine.”

Anthony grinned, sliding an arm around his wife. “We, uh… we just got the call from the lab.”

Gabrielle’s fingers found Anthony’s and squeezed. “The IVF worked.” Her voice trembled on the last word, eyes shining. “I’m pregnant.”

For a heartbeat, everything froze.

Juliette’s lips parted and her eyes were wide. She reached across the table and grabbed Gabrielle’s hand, her fingers trembling slightly as she squeezed. “Gabby… oh my God.” Her voice cracked—half laughter, half something rawer, thinner.

“I wanted to tell you first,” Gabrielle said softly, glancing between us, “but we just found out an hour ago. It didn’t feel real until now.”

---