Isabella POV
I woke up in Damien's arms with sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows and the unfamiliar comfort of being exactly where I belonged. His chest rose and fell beneath my cheek, steady and warm, while his fingers traced lazy patterns on my bare shoulder.
For the first time in seven years, I felt complete.
"Good morning, beautiful," he said, his voice rough with sleep and satisfaction.
"Is it good?" I asked, stretching against him like a cat. "I seem to remember having a board meeting this morning where they plan to fire me."
"They can try," he said, rolling me beneath him with a wicked smile. "But they're about to get the surprise of their lives."
His mouth found mine, soft and claiming, tasting like promises and new beginnings. I could have stayed in this bed forever, wrapped in silk sheets and Damien's arms, forgetting the world existed.
But the real world was waiting, and we had a war to win.
"We need to get ready," I said reluctantly, though my hands were already exploring the hard muscles of his back. "The meeting's at eight."
"We have time," he murmured against my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "Besides, I want to make sure you remember exactly who you belong to before we walk into that boardroom."
Who I belong to. The possessive words sent heat pooling low in my belly, even as my practical side screamed that we needed to focus on strategy.
"Damien," I started to protest, but he was already moving lower, his mouth mapping a path across my collarbone that made coherent thought impossible.
"Let me take care of you," he said, his voice dark with promise. "Let me remind you what it feels like to be worshipped."
What followed was slow and thorough and completely devastating. By the time he was done with me, I was boneless and glowing and absolutely certain that whatever happened in that boardroom, I could face it as long as Damien was beside me.
"Now we get ready," he said with a satisfied smile, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Time to show them what a real partnership looks like."
An hour later, I stood in front of the mirror in Damien's bathroom, wearing a steel-gray suit that belonged to the Isabella Sterling who'd walked into his penthouse last night. But the woman looking back at me was different, softer around the edges but harder at the core, like someone who'd finally stopped fighting herself.
"You look like a CEO," Damien said, appearing behind me in the mirror. He was wearing a black suit that probably cost more than most people's cars, every inch the powerful billionaire who could buy and sell companies on a whim.
"I look like someone pretending to be a CEO," I corrected. "There's a difference."
"No," he said, his hands settling on my shoulders. "You look like someone who's finally ready to stop pretending and start being exactly who she is."
Who she is. The question that had been haunting me for months now felt less terrifying with Damien's steady presence behind me.
"And who is that?" I asked.
"Someone strong enough to walk away from a toxic legacy. Someone smart enough to build something better. Someone brave enough to choose love over fear." His eyes met mine in the mirror. "Someone who's going to walk into that boardroom and take control of her own story."
Take control of her own story. I liked the sound of that.
The drive to Sterling Tower was surreal, sitting beside Damien in his sleek black car, watching the city wake up while we planned the corporate coup that would save my company and destroy our real enemy. We looked like any other powerful couple heading to a business meeting, but underneath the professional facade, electricity crackled between us.
"Remember," Damien said as we pulled up to the building, "Henry Morrison's been Richard's lapdog for thirty years. He'll fight this merger because it threatens his position. James Pemberton's family has been looking for an excuse to distance themselves from Sterling Industries since the financial troubles started. He'll probably support whatever gets him out cleanest."
"And Victoria Walsh?"
"Smart, ambitious, and practical. She'll support whoever gives her the best chance at advancement." His hand found mine, fingers intertwining with confident possession. "They're going to try to intimidate you, to make you feel like you're not qualified to make these decisions. Don't let them."
"I won't," I said, and meant it. "We're in this together now."
"Together," he agreed, lifting our joined hands to press a kiss to my knuckles. "Let's go claim what's ours."
The elevator ride to the executive floor felt different this time. Instead of riding alone to face corporate sharks, I had Damien beside me, solid, confident, and absolutely lethal when it came to business warfare. Whatever happened in that boardroom, I wouldn't be facing it alone.
Marcus was waiting outside the conference room, his expression a mixture of relief and concern when he saw me.
"Isabella, thank God. After last night, I wasn't sure, " He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Damien behind me, his eyes widening with understanding. "Oh."
"Marcus Chen, meet Damien Cross," I said smoothly. "My partner."
The word carried multiple meanings, and Marcus was smart enough to catch all of them. His handshake with Damien was professional but wary, like he was trying to figure out whether he was looking at an ally or a threat.
"Gentlemen," I said, checking my watch. "Shall we? The board's waiting."
The conference room fell silent when we walked in. Henry Morrison's face went white when he saw Damien, while Victoria Walsh's eyes sharpened with the kind of interest that meant she was already calculating angles. James Pemberton just looked confused, like he couldn't figure out why the enemy was sitting at our table.
"Good morning," I said, taking my seat at the head of the table, my father's chair, but mine now by right and choice. "I believe you all know Damien Cross."
"What the hell is he doing here?" Henry exploded, his usual corporate composure cracking. "Isabella, this is highly inappropriate. The board called this meeting to discuss your future with the company, not to, "
"To discuss Sterling Industries' future," I corrected firmly. "Which is exactly why Mr. Cross is here."
I nodded to Damien, who opened the leather portfolio he'd brought with surgical precision.
"Cross Enterprises would like to make a formal offer for Sterling Industries," he said, his voice carrying the kind of authority that made powerful men listen. "Not a hostile takeover, but a merger that preserves jobs, maintains current management structure, and provides the capital infusion necessary for long-term stability."
The silence that followed was deafening.
"A merger?" Victoria was the first to find her voice. "What kind of merger?"
"The kind where Cross Enterprises becomes majority shareholder while Isabella Sterling remains as co-CEO," Damien explained. "Existing board positions remain intact, current employee contracts are honored, and Sterling Industries continues to operate under its own brand."
"With Cross Enterprises pulling the strings," Henry said bitterly.
"With Cross Enterprises providing the resources Sterling Industries needs to survive," I said firmly. "Henry, we're three months from bankruptcy. Our biggest clients are jumping ship, we're under federal investigation, and someone's been systematically destroying us from the inside. This merger isn't just our best option, t's our only option."
"You planned this," James Pemberton said, looking between Damien and me with dawning understanding. "The dinner last night, the timing of this offer, you've been working together all along."
"No," I said simply. "Last night, I realized that fighting Damien was exactly what our real enemy wanted. Someone's been using our personal history to cover their own corporate raid. This merger protects Sterling Industries from that threat."
"What threat?" Victoria asked sharply.
Damien slid a folder across the table. "Marcus Blackwood has been orchestrating attacks on Sterling Industries for the past eighteen months. The Pemberton contract cancellation, the Morrison bankruptcy, even last night's SEC raid, all traceable back to companies with Blackwood connections."
I watched the board members' faces as they processed the information, saw the moment understanding dawned.
"He's been playing us," Victoria said quietly. "Using Cross Enterprises as cover while he positioned himself for a distressed acquisition."
"Exactly," I said. "This merger removes Sterling Industries from play before Blackwood can make his move."
"And what do you get out of this?" Henry asked Damien suspiciously. "Why would you give up a hostile takeover for a partnership?"
Damien's eyes found mine across the table, and I saw heat and possession and something that looked like love.
"Because some things are worth more than revenge," he said simply. "And because Isabella Sterling is the smartest CEO in this city. Working with her is better than destroying her."
Working with her. The professional phrasing couldn't hide the deeper truth, and I felt warmth spread through my chest at his public declaration of partnership.
"The offer is generous," Victoria said, studying the terms. "Above market value, job protections, maintained autonomy. It's actually... fair."
"More than fair," James agreed reluctantly. "Under current circumstances, it might be the best deal we could hope for."
"This is insane," Henry said, but his voice lacked conviction. "Isabella, you can't seriously be considering binding Sterling Industries to Cross Enterprises. After everything that's happened, "
"After everything that's happened, it's time to stop fighting and start building something better," I said firmly. "This merger saves the company, protects our employees, and gives us the resources to not just survive but thrive."
"Together," Damien added, his voice carrying unmistakable finality. "The vote is a formality. Cross Enterprises is prepared to move forward with or without board approval."
The threat was subtle but clear, they could vote for the merger and maintain some control, or Damien would find another way to acquire Sterling Industries that left them with nothing.
"All in favor?" I said, raising my hand.
Victoria's hand went up immediately, followed by James's. After a long moment, Henry raised his hand as well, defeat written across his features.
"Motion carries," I said, unable to keep the smile from my voice. "Sterling Industries is now part of Cross Enterprises."
And I'm part of Damien's world, officially and completely.
After the board members filed out, Victoria looking thoughtful, James relieved, Henry bitter, Damien and I sat alone in the conference room where this had all started.
"So," I said, turning to face him. "Co-CEOs. Think we can make it work?"
"Professionally?" he asked, standing and moving around the table toward me. "Absolutely. We're both brilliant, we understand each other's strengths, and we want the same things."
"And personally?" I asked, though my body was already responding to his proximity.
"Personally," he said, pulling me into his arms right there in my father's boardroom, "I think we're going to be fucking unstoppable."
He kissed me then, deep and claiming and completely inappropriate for a corporate setting. But I didn't care. Let the security cameras record it. Let the cleaning staff gossip. Let the whole world know that Isabella Sterling had chosen love over duty and found a way to have both.
"Partners," I said against his lips.
"Partners," he agreed. "In everything."
Finally, I was exactly where I belonged