Isabella POV
The press conference was scheduled for two o'clock, which gave us exactly four hours to prepare for the media circus that would follow our merger announcement. I sat in my newly shared office - Damien had insisted on combining our executive spaces - watching him pace while he spoke rapid-fire instructions into his phone.
"I want a full security detail on both buildings," he was saying to Sarah Martinez. "And run background checks on every reporter who's requested access to the press conference. If anyone has connections to Blackwood, they don't get in."
The transformation from lover to corporate predator was seamless and utterly mesmerizing. This morning he'd been gentle and possessive, worshipping my body like I was something precious. Now he was pure business shark, protecting what was his with ruthless efficiency.
What was his. The thought sent heat spiraling through me despite the professional setting.
"Isabella?" Marcus appeared in the doorway with a tablet and the kind of expression that meant more bad news. "We have a problem."
"What kind of problem?" I asked, though I was already bracing for impact.
"The kind where someone leaked news of the merger before we could announce it officially." He handed me the tablet, and I felt my stomach drop as I read the headline:
"Sterling Heiress Surrenders Empire to Former Lover in Suspicious Midnight Deal"
"Shit," I breathed, scrolling through an article that painted our merger as everything from corporate nepotism to a elaborate revenge plot. Worse, it had quotes from "unnamed sources" who seemed to know intimate details about our past relationship.
Damien ended his call and moved to read over my shoulder, his body heat making it difficult to concentrate on the increasingly damaging revelations.
"Someone with inside access," he said grimly. "These quotes are too specific to be speculation."
He was right. The article mentioned details about our teenage relationship that only a handful of people could have known. Someone had been talking, someone who'd been close to my father or had access to Sterling Industries' internal communications.
"Henry," I said suddenly. "It has to be Henry Morrison. He's the only one who knew about our history and would have access to Dad's personal files."
"Or someone's been digging deeper than we realized," Damien said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "Marcus, I want that reporter's sources traced. Use whatever connections you have, call in favors, but I want to know who's feeding information to the press."
Marcus nodded and disappeared, leaving us alone with the growing realization that our enemies were better informed and more prepared than we'd anticipated.
My phone rang, and I glanced at the caller ID with growing dread. Victoria Walsh, probably calling to discuss the media nightmare that was about to consume us.
"Isabella, we need to talk," Victoria said without preamble. "The early merger leak is causing panic among our clients. I've had six calls in the past hour from companies wanting to discuss contract modifications."
"What kind of modifications?"
"The kind that let them walk away if Sterling Industries' management structure becomes 'unstable.'" Victoria's voice was tight with stress. "Isabella, if we lose any more major clients, even the merger won't be enough to save us."
I closed my eyes, feeling the walls closing in from all sides. We'd won the battle with the board, but the war for Sterling Industries' survival was far from over.
"Schedule emergency calls with our top five clients," I said. "I want to speak with them personally before they make any decisions based on media speculation."
"Already done. But Isabella?" Victoria paused. "Some of these contracts have clauses that could be triggered by changes in ownership structure. Legal's reviewing everything now, but we might be looking at penalty payments in the millions."
Millions we didn't have. Even with Cross Enterprises' backing, massive penalty payments could cripple our cash flow and make the merger look like a desperate fire sale instead of a strategic partnership.
After ending the call, I found Damien standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows, his shoulders tense as he stared out at the city that had once felt like our kingdom.
"How bad?" he asked without turning around.
"Bad enough. Contract penalties, client defections, and that's before the press conference where we'll have to explain why Isabella Sterling decided to merge with the man who's been trying to destroy her company."
"The man who's been trying to save her company," he corrected, finally turning to face me. "Isabella, we both know Sterling Industries was dying long before I made my move. This merger doesn't just protect you from Blackwood, it gives you the resources to actually compete."
He was right, but logic didn't matter when emotions and public perception were driving the narrative.
"The optics are terrible," I said. "Heiress falls for corporate raider, hands over family empire in midnight deal. It sounds like either the worst business decision in history or the most elaborate seduction ever attempted."
Something dark flashed across Damien's features. "And which do you think it is?"
The question was loaded with seven years of history and this morning's passionate declarations. I moved closer, drawn by the magnetic pull that had always existed between us.
"I think," I said carefully, "that it's the smartest decision I've ever made disguised as the most reckless."
His smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Good answer."
Before I could respond, my office door burst open and Henry Morrison stormed in with the kind of righteous fury that meant he'd been watching the news coverage.
"Isabella, what the hell have you done?" he demanded, waving his phone like a weapon. "The entire financial district is talking about Sterling Industries' surrender to Cross Enterprises. Our stock price has dropped fifteen percent in two hours."
"Our stock price was already in free fall," I replied coolly. "At least now we have a plan to stop the bleeding."
"A plan? You call handing over a three-generation empire to your teenage boyfriend a plan?"
The dismissive tone made my temper flare, but it was Damien who responded, his voice carrying the kind of authority that made powerful men listen.
"That teenage boyfriend now controls assets worth three billion dollars," he said quietly. "And that three-generation empire was three months from bankruptcy before I intervened. Show some respect for the woman who just saved your pension fund."
Henry's face went purple with rage, but he couldn't argue with the numbers. Sterling Industries had been dying, and everyone in that room knew it.
"This isn't over," Henry said, directing his anger at me. "The shareholders won't stand for this. There will be lawsuits, investigations, demands for your removal."
"Let them come," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I'd rather fight in court than watch Sterling Industries collapse because we were too proud to accept help."
After Henry left, slamming the door behind him with childish fury, Damien moved to stand behind my chair, his hands settling on my shoulders with possessive warmth.
"He's going to be a problem," he said.
"Henry's been a problem for years. Dad kept him around because he was loyal, but loyalty without competence is just expensive decoration."
"We could remove him from the board."
The suggestion was tempting, but firing Henry would only add fuel to the media fire currently consuming our reputation.
"Not yet," I said. "Let him make his objections public. When this merger proves successful, when Sterling Industries is profitable again, his opposition will look like the short-sighted obstructionism it really is."
Damien's hands tightened on my shoulders, and I could feel his approval in the gesture.
"My brilliant, strategic princess," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Always thinking three moves ahead."
Princess. The endearment should have annoyed me - I'd worked too hard to be seen as a serious businesswoman to be reduced to royal metaphors. Instead, it sent warmth spreading through my chest.
"We should review the press conference talking points," I said, trying to focus on business despite the way his proximity was making my pulse race.
"We should," he agreed, but his hands were already sliding down my arms in a way that had nothing to do with corporate strategy. "But first, I want to make sure you're ready for what's coming."
"Which is?"
"A feeding frenzy. The media's going to ask personal questions, try to get emotional reactions, do everything they can to make this look like a love story instead of a business decision."
I turned in my chair to face him, noting the way his gray eyes had darkened with something that looked like concern.
"Is that what this is?" I asked quietly. "A business decision disguised as a love story?"
"No," he said, his hands framing my face with gentle possession. "This is a love story disguised as a business decision. Everything else is just details."
Before I could respond, he was kissing me with the kind of intensity that made the rest of the world disappear. When we finally broke apart, I was breathless and flushed and completely unprepared for the knock on my door.
"Come in," I called, hoping my voice sounded more professional than I felt.
Sarah Martinez entered with an armload of documents and the crisp efficiency I'd come to associate with Damien's inner circle.
"The press conference materials are ready," she said, setting folders on my desk without commenting on my obviously kissed appearance. "Media list, talking points, and background information on every reporter who'll be in attendance."
"Any Blackwood connections?" Damien asked.
"Three reporters with potential ties, but nothing concrete enough to exclude them without causing more problems." Sarah's expression was professionally neutral, but I caught the warning underneath. "Sir, there's something else. Marcus Blackwood's office called twenty minutes ago. He wants to schedule a meeting."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"What kind of meeting?" I asked.
"The kind where he discusses 'mutually beneficial opportunities' related to Sterling Industries' recent strategic changes." Sarah's tone made it clear what she thought of those opportunities.
Damien's laugh was anything but amused. "He's moving faster than expected. Probably trying to position himself as a white knight before we can consolidate our position."
"Do we take the meeting?" I asked.
"We take the meeting," Damien said, his voice carrying the kind of finality that ended discussions. "But on our terms, in our territory, with our agenda."
I nodded, already planning the psychological warfare that would be required to handle someone like Marcus Blackwood. But underneath the strategic thinking, a part of me was terrified.
Because if we'd underestimated our enemy once, what else had we missed?