Their moment was interrupted by the arrival of Knox and Gabriel, both looking uncharacteristically solemn as they approached. Knox’s usual smirk was absent, replaced by concern, while Gabriel’s expression offered no clues.
“Morning meeting in five,” Gabriel said, his gaze dropping to their joined hands before settling back on Ronan. “The team needs to hear about the new Beauchamp terms from you.”
He nodded, grateful for the normalcy of business operations. No board meetings, no rumors—nothing but the day-to-day rhythm of the company he’d built. “We’ll be there.”
“Welcome back, Sunshine,” Knox said to her, his knowing smile making an appearance. “The place has been gloomier without you.”
“Thanks, Knox,” she said, her posture easing as if a weight had been set down. “It’s good to be back.”
The two men departed, Knox whispering something to Gabriel that made the stoic man’s lips twitch.
“They seem different,” she observed once they were alone.
“They are,” he agreed. “We all are.”
He turned to face her, aware of the curious eyes that still watched them from around the office, but finding himself strangely unconcerned by the scrutiny. Eleanor Beauchamp’s words echoed in his mind:Sometimes the most successful negotiations are the ones where you’re willing to lose everything for the right reasons.
“Before we go in there,” he said, taking both her hands in his, “I need you to know this.”
She tilted her head, waiting. No impatient interjection, no nervous chatter. Only her presence—which he had come to value more than his previous calculations allowed for.
“Whatever happens today, however the office reacts, it doesn’t change this.” He lifted their joined hands. “Us. I meant what I said on Martha’s Vineyard. I’m all in, Devney. No more charades. No more strategies.”
“So am I.” She squeezed his hands, the gesture conveying strength rather than seeking it. “Now let’s go face the music together.”
As they walked toward the meeting room, a new certainty settled—grounded and real. Not the scripted confidence of a business strategy, but the quiet strength of what was truly built to last. What was real.
Together, they pushed open the meeting room doors to face whatever awaited them on the other side.
Chapter 24
When the elevatordoors slid open the next morning, her senses were flooded with color. Sunflowers. Dozens of them. Bright yellow blooms split between several crystal vases, all arranged across her desk like they were eagerly awaiting her arrival. Behind this sea of gold and green stood Ronan, an expression of self-satisfaction on his face. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his flawlessly tailored suit, as if he hadn’t turned her workspace into a botanical display.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice carrying that tone that made her heart skip.
“Good morning,” she said as she crossed the room. “I see you’ve been busy.”
“I have excellent time management skills,” Ronan said, the corner of his mouth lifting in that almost-smile she’d grown to cherish. “The florist opens at six.”
She reached out to touch one of the velvet petals, her other hand instinctively moving to the pocket of her blazer where she’d slipped the key he’d given her yesterday—the key attached to a small silver sunflower charm. The thoughtfulness of it all—the flowers, the key, the way he’d remembered every detail that mattered to her—left her momentarily speechless.
“You’re staring,” Ronan observed, breaking into her thoughts.
“I’m appreciating the view,” she murmured, setting down her bag and stepping closer to him.
“The flowers or me?” he asked, and there it was again—that playfulness that still caught her off guard.
“Both.” She straightened his already-perfect tie, letting her fingers linger. “But mostly you.”
His eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her lips before reluctantly pulling away. “We should establish some workplace boundaries,” he murmured, though the regret in his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely sold on the idea.
“Probably,” she agreed, stepping back with exaggerated professionalism. “Very wise, Mr. Wilder.”
“Don’t start,” he warned, though the shift at the corner of his mouth gave him away. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Of course.” She nodded. “The fearsome CEO. The financial mastermind. The one who reduced an intern to tears over a misaligned spreadsheet.”
“That was one time,” he protested, looking adorably defensive.
