Page 69 of His Secret Merger

A chuckle spread through the room. Juliette squeezed my hand, her eyes flicking to mine with a glimmer of amusement.

“But tonight,” Judge Valencia continued, “isn’t just a celebration of art, or even a celebration of the remarkable work the Vérité Foundation has done in the world of restitution. No—tonight, we also have the joy of witnessing what I think may be Damian Sinclair’s best-kept secret.”

The crowd murmured, a few knowing laughs bubbling up.

The judge grinned. “A secret merger, some might say.”

The words landed like a perfectly timed punchline, sending fresh laughter and applause rolling through the room.

Juliette let out a soft laugh beside me, her head dipping for a moment, her hair brushing my shoulder.

“You two have built something extraordinary together,” the judge went on, his voice softening as he turned slightly toward us, “not just here, but in each other. The Vérité Foundation has become a bright light on the hill for the art world—a reminder that even the past’s deepest shadows can be healed, piece by piece. And tonight, we raise a glass to the two of you, for proving that sometimes the best partnerships are the ones no one sees coming.”

He lifted his champagne flute high, the room following with a glimmer of glass and gold.

“To Juliette and Damian—may your next chapter be just as daring, just as bold, and just as full of surprises as the one you’ve written so far.”

The room erupted in cheers, flashes popping like tiny fireworks as Juliette and I lifted our glasses in return.

She leaned in, her voice low against my ear. “A secret merger, hmm?”

I turned just enough to catch the smile in her eyes. “Guess the secret’s out now, my dear.”

As the applause faded and the crowd’s attention shifted back to bidding cards and champagne, Juliette’s hand slipped into mine, tugging gently.

“Come on,” she murmured, admiring the ring. “Oh, God, Damian. This ring is gorgeous.”

I let her pull me from the stage, weaving through the crush of guests and well-wishers, murmured congratulations brushing past us like a tide. Somewhere, Gabrielle was blowing us an exaggerated kiss, Anthony giving me a subtle thumbs-up. Lucas and Ella raised their glasses as we passed, the corners of their mouths curved in quiet approval.

We slipped through a side corridor, the noise of the ballroom dimming behind us, until we found ourselves on a small terrace just off the main hall. The night air was cool, the city glittering below in a thousand lights.

Juliette leaned back against the stone railing, exhaling a breath that seemed to carry the weight of the evening with it. “God,” she said with a soft laugh, tipping her head back, “that was insane.”

I stepped in close, resting my hands on either side of her against the cool stone. “You were insane,” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “You stole the whole damn night, Jules.”

Her eyes softened, a faint flush still on her skin. “I wanted it to be ours,” she said quietly. “Not just paperwork, not just contracts or whispers. Something real, something unique.”

I smiled, lowering my forehead to hers, feeling the steady pulse of her breath, the warmth of her skin. “It’s always been real, Jules. I just didn’t know how to hold on to it.”

She laughed softly, her fingers curling into the front of my jacket. “Well,” she whispered, “you’re doing perfect, so far.”

I kissed her then, slow, sure, a promise pressed against her mouth. The kind of kiss that saysI’m here, I want to spend my life with you, and God, I’m lucky you waited for me to figure that out.

When we pulled apart, her smile tilted into something sly. “I love you, you know,” she said, brushing her thumb over my lip.

Her arms slid around my neck as I pulled her in again, the sound of the gala fading into a distant, happy blur. “I love you, too, Jules.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Juliette

A Few Months Later

I zipped the last suitcase closed and sat back on my heels, breathing in the quiet hum of the house.

Our house.

The thought still caught me off guard sometimes, like I’d accidentally stepped into someone else’s life, someone who knew how to move through gleaming marble hallways and sleep beneath chandeliers without blinking. But this wasn’t someone else’s life. This was mine.

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