Page 205 of Say My Name

“I know.”

Elena bends over the paper and writes one word beneath the final line.

Accepted.

She makes two precise folds in the page before pressing it to her chest.

“I’m keeping this.”

“It’s yours.”

She stands and comes around the table. She takes my hand, places it flat against her stomach, then covers it with her own.

“Ours,” she corrects, her voice soft but firm.

It’s not just my child or her body. It’s ours. The single word is a promise, more binding than any contract we ever signed, and it’s the only one we’ll ever need.

I slide my other arm around her and kiss her slowly.

Tomorrow, we’ll book a flight home. Call a doctor. Tell the people who need to know. Begin the work of combining two lives neither of us knows how to share yet.

Tonight, she leads me back toward the bedroom.

This time, I stay.

CHAPTER 25

Elena

By the third trip to my condo in two weeks, even I have to admit I’m moving.

Maybe not officially. There has been no lease discussion, no joint inventory, and no spreadsheet comparing commute times and closet space. The only thing with my name on it is the relationship disclosure Dominic and I submitted to Rowe Holdings’ designated board representative and employment counsel four days after we returned from Colorado.

His recusal from decisions involving my employment remains in place. I keep my title, my authority, and my independent reporting protections. We document every safeguard because loving the CEO does not mean I stop caring about my career or how our relationship looks to the people who work for us.

Dominic stands in the doorway of my office holding an empty canvas bag while I gather three notebooks from the shelf above my desk.

“Define a few,” he says, his voice dry with an amusement he isn’t trying to hide.

“These. The pregnancy books in my bedroom. Some clothes.”

“How many clothes?”

“Enough for the week.”

His gaze travels to the two empty suitcases beside my desk. “That must be one hell of a week.”

“I like options.”

“You packed twelve dresses for Colorado.”

“And I might have needed every one of them.”

“You wore three sweaters and the same pair of leggings.”

I point a notebook at him. “Are you helping or auditing?”

“Helping.” His mouth curves, and the expression sends a corresponding warmth through my chest. “I’ve learned better than to audit you.”