"Not in my plans," I said, meaning it.
She looked up, searching for the lie. She didn’t find one.
"Good," she said, and let her head fall against my shoulder.
We lay there, city lights flickering through the blinds, our hands entwined on the sheets. For once, I felt not just in control, but understood.
Tomorrow, the world would spin again; more crisis, more fire. But tonight, we were a team.
And I’d never wanted anything more.
Epilogue
Eliza
Six months later…
I watched Gabriel from the doorway, his shirt sleeves rolled with surgical precision, the wrist tattoo he thought I hadn’t noticed half-concealed above his watch. It would have been intimidating if I hadn’t already seen him naked, sleep-creased, and unshaven.
He didn’t bother looking up. “You’re not invisible.”
“You’re smug.” I kicked the doorframe for punctuation. My heels sounded satisfyingly aggressive on the hardwood, even though I wasn’t on the clock yet.
Gabriel poured my shot first, the bastard, and slid it across the counter with a flourish. “You’re welcome.”
He made his own black, no sugar. He took a sip. “You’re up early for someone who swore she’d never again accept a meeting before ten.”
“Just because I said it doesn’t mean I meant it.” I took a sip and let the bitterness wake me from the inside out. “Some of us have empires to build.”
His eyes tracked the way I leaned on the counter. “Some of us have empires. The rest schedule their own meetings.”
“Cute. Almost as cute as how you triple-confirmed your calendar invite last night.” I pulled his phone from his blazer, which was draped over the back of a chair, and waved it at him. “You know, you can just ask if you want me to come.”
A faint smile. “I like certainty.”
“Of course, you do.” I dropped the phone - softly, I’m not a monster - then reached for the box of pastries he’d hidden behind his laptop. “You know, normal couples just text ‘see you tomorrow.’ Not ‘please confirm attendance.’”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Normal is a myth propagated by reality television.”
“Don’t quote yourself at me,” I said. “I lived through your TED Talk phase.”
He snorted, a sound nobody else in the world got to hear. Then he moved behind me, no warning, because he knew I hated that, and hooked his chin over my shoulder. The warmth of him at my back was enough to short-circuit my brain for a second, but I played it cool. Always.
He said, “You smell like victory.”
I said, “You’re lucky I don’t punch people before caffeine.”
He kissed the edge of my jaw. Casual. Unthinking. Which was the point. We didn’t do hesitation. No, we fought for dominance and we’d destroyed bedsheets, a small side table, and an ugly lamp.
“So what’s the power couple itinerary today?” I broke the hold, more out of principle than necessity, and snapped a croissant in half. “I assume you have three conference calls and a secret society to overthrow before lunch.”
He shook out the Wall Street Journal with an elegance that was equal parts affectation and genetics. “Not a secret society.Just a board meeting.” A flick of paper. “But I will need your signature on the joint press release.”
“I see we’ve advanced from blackmail to professional courtesy.” I brushed flaky crumbs from my lap. “Proud of you.”
He looked over the top of the newspaper. “That was never blackmail. It was pre-emptive negotiation.”
“You threatened to pull funding unless I came with you to that retreat. What would you call that?”