I stand and pull her into a fierce hug, both of us crying. "Thank you," I whisper. "Thank you for trying to understand."
***
The studio floor at Sinclair Designs is buzzing with activity. Designers work at their stations, fabric samples are spread across tables, and the air hums with creative energy.
I walk through it all, feeling lighter than I have in years, my heart full.
For so long, this place was a burden. Every decision, every financial concern, every business negotiation—it all weighed onme. But now, with Nathan handling the business side, I'm free to focus on what I love.
Creating. Designing. Building beauty from nothing.
I stop at one of the design tables and run my fingers over a bolt of silk, feeling the smooth texture, and joy floods through me. This is what I was meant to do. Not fight through board meetings or worry about profit margins. Just this—pure creation.
"Ms. Sinclair?" One of my designers approaches, tablet in hand. "I wanted your feedback on the new collection sketches."
I spend the next hour immersed in my work, and it feels like breathing after being underwater too long. Like coming home to myself.
***
"You're working late," Nathan says from my office doorway, his voice warm.
I look up from my sketchbook, surprised, my heart skipping at the sight of him. "I didn't hear you come in."
"You were focused." He's carrying takeout bags and wearing one of those rare, genuine smiles that transform his face and make my chest ache. "I brought your favorite."
We eat at my desk, and I tell him about my day, about the designs taking shape, about the excitement I feel for the first time in years. He listens with complete attention, his eyes never leaving my face, asking questions, offering thoughts.
This is the man no one else sees. Not the ruthless businessman or the obsessive stalker. Just Nathan, genuinely interested in my passion, looking at me like I'm the most fascinating thing in the world.
When we're done eating, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small wrapped box, and I see nervousness flash across his face.
"What's this?" I ask, my pulse quickening.
"A gift. For my queen."
I unwrap it carefully, my hands trembling. Inside is a beautiful leather-bound sketchbook and an expensive pen. The pen is engraved with two words: Our Reign.
I look up at him, tears spilling down my cheeks. "Nathan..."
"You're not just my partner in business, Eve." He cups my face tenderly, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. "You're my partner in everything. We're building this life together. Ruling together. My queen."
The emotion in his voice undoes me completely.
I kiss him then, deep and grateful and desperate, pouring all my love into the contact. When we break apart, I'm breathless, my whole body trembling with need.
"Take me home," I whisper against his lips.
***
The penthouse is quiet when we arrive. I head straight for the bedroom, feeling desire building with every step, my skin flushed with anticipation.
In the closet, I choose carefully—black lace that I know drives him wild, silk that feels like water against my skin. I look at myself in the mirror and see a woman I barely recognize.
She's powerful. Confident. Unafraid. Desired. Loved.
She's a queen.
My heart is racing as I emerge. Nathan is standing by the windows, his jacket discarded, his shirt partially unbuttoned. He turns when he hears me, and the look in his eyes makes my breath catch.
