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"I should probably get Catherine's letter for you," I said, thinking of the envelope still in my bedside drawer. “When I go to my apartment again, I‘ll bring it over."

Lucas nodded, coming to stand beside me at the window. "Thank you for telling me about the dinner when it happened. I know that couldn't have been easy."

"I promised honesty," I said. "Even when it's uncomfortable." I turned to face him. "She... told me things about your childhood. About the patterns she saw in you. About SEC investigations."

His expression hardened momentarily before he mastered it.

"Catherine always did know where to place the knife for maximum effect."

"Was it true? The investigations?"

He met my gaze directly, unflinching in his honesty. "Yes. Three times. Each more aggressive than the last. Each time, the evidence was insufficient to proceed."

A pause, then: "But not fabricated. Not entirely."

I absorbed this, measuring it against what I knew of the man before me. The ambition that drove him. The determination that had built his empire. The moral flexibility that allowed him to see opportunities where others saw only obstacles.

"Would you do it again?" I asked the question emerging before I could second-guess it. "Cross lines, if the stakes were high enough?"

He didn't insult my intelligence with instant denial. Instead, he considered the question with the same thoughtfulness he brought to every significant decision.

"Once, I would have said yes without hesitation," he admitted finally. "The ends justified the means, particularly when those ends built something lasting, something that provided jobs and security for thousands of people.

”Andnow?“

His eyes met mine, something vulnerable in their depths. "Now I find myself considering impacts beyond bottom lines. Consequences beyond quarterly reports. Legacy that extends beyond buildings and acquisitions.“

” Because of me?“

"Because of us," he corrected, moving closer. "Because you've shown me possibilities I'd dismissed as irrelevant. Connections I'd convinced myself were unnecessary. Ways of measuring success that have nothing to do with power or control or material acquisition."

He stood before me now, close enough that I could catch the familiar scent of cedar and bergamot, could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes that spoke of a life fully lived.

"I'm not a perfect man, Savannah. Not even a particularly good one by conventional standards." He took my hands, holding them with unexpected gentleness.

"But I am a man capable of growth. Of change. Of becoming something more than the sum of my ambitions."

The honesty in his voice and the vulnerability in his expression made my throat tighten with emotion. This wasn't a practiced speech, nor was it a calculated seduction. This was raw truth, offered without expectation or manipulation.

"I don't want perfect," I said softly. "I just want real. And you, Lucas Turner—for all your complications, all your contradictions—are the most real thing I've ever known."

"To our future," I said, meeting his eyes.

"To partnership," he countered, touching his glass to mine.

The scotch burned pleasantly going down, but I barely noticed, too focused on the way Lucas was looking at me. As if seeing me for the first time. As if cataloging every detail to commit to memory.

"Show me," I said softly, setting down my glass.

"Show you what?"

"The office space you had Elena prepare. The closet space you cleared." I moved closer, close enough to see the heat beginning to kindle in his eyes. "Show me how you've made room for me in your life."

He took my hand without a word, leading me through the penthouse I'd come to know so well. The second bedroom had been transformed—my makeshift office setup from previous overnight stays was now properly arranged with a new desk, ergonomic chair, and proper lighting. Professional and elegant, but unmistakably designed for serious work.

"It's perfect," I breathed, running my fingers along the desk surface.

"I wanted you to have everything you need to work comfortably from here," he said, watching my reaction carefully. "Your independence was non-negotiable."