Page 71 of His Secret Merger

It was a promise.

And this time, I wasn’t walking toward it alone.

A few hours later, I sank into the buttery leather seat inside the jet and watched as the city lights fell away beneath us, a glittering trail swallowed by the dark. Damian sat across from me at first, scrolling through something on his phone, but the moment we leveled out, he tucked it away and came to sit beside me.

“Champagne?” he asked, his lips curving in that slow, knowing way that still undid me.

“Of course.” I grinned, leaning back as he signaled the attendant.

A chilled bottle appeared in minutes, the cork popping with a soft, satisfying thud. Damian poured two flutes, handing me one before settling into the seat beside mine, our knees brushing.

“To us,” he said, raising his glass.

I tipped mine toward his. “To us.”

The champagne was cold and bright on my tongue, bubbles rising in soft gold ribbons. I sipped slower than usual, wanting to experience every second of this special moment.

It wasn’t lost on me how wild this was. How unlikely.

A few months ago, we’d been circling each other like wary predators, pretending friendship could hold everything we refused to name. And now?

Now we were flying to Las Vegas. To get married.

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” I admitted softly, tracing the rim of my glass with one finger. “A year ago, I would’ve laughed if anyone told me.”

Damian chuckled, low and warm beside me. “A year ago, I would’ve said hell no.”

I looked at him, amused. “Oh, really?”

“Marriage?” He shrugged, setting his glass on the table between us. “Didn’t think it was in the cards. Didn’t think I was built for it.”

I turned slightly, pulling one knee up onto the seat. “And now?”

He held my gaze, something gentle threading through his eyes. “Now I know better.”

A quiet hum passed between us, deeper than the engines beneath our feet. I leaned closer, resting my head against his shoulder, feeling his breath’s steady rise and fall beneath my cheek.

Outside the window, the desert stretched black and endless, sprinkled with distant lights. Somewhere far below, people were walking neon-lit streets, slipping rings onto strangers’ fingers in kitschy chapels while Elvis impersonators crooned old love songs.

I smiled faintly at the thought.

“Do you think we’ll get an Elvis?” I teased.

Damian snorted. “Not unless you secretly booked one.”

“I didn’t,” I promised, closing my eyes for a moment. “But a drive-thru chapel crossed my mind.”

His arm curled around my shoulders, his lips brushing my temple. “You could marry me in a gas station parking lot, and I’d still think I got lucky.”

I laughed, warmth blooming in my chest. “Well, good news—we’ve at least upgraded from the gas station.”

We sat like that for a while, champagne half-forgotten, the world shrinking to the soft hum of engines and the quiet between us. I didn’t know if it was the altitude or the champagne, but everything felt lighter. Brighter.

I pressed closer, my hand curling lightly around his shirtfront. “This still feels a little crazy,” I murmured.

Damian’s lips curved against my hair. “The best things usually are.”

I let my eyes flutter shut, his warmth steady beneath me, the stars blinking faintly outside the window. As the plane carried us forward, I realized something simple and profound: for once, I wasn’t bracing for the landing. I was ready for wherever we touched down.

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