Page 21 of Executive Privilege (Event Horizons Agency #1)

One year later, I wake up in our bed.

Not my bed, not Nicholas's hotel suite, but the king-size bed in the master bedroom of the downtown loft we chose together—exposed brick walls, floor-to-ceiling windows, and enough space for both my art supplies and Nicholas's growing guitar collection.

"Good morning," Nicholas says, his voice still rough with sleep as he pulls me closer against his chest. "How did you sleep?"

"Like someone who doesn't have to sneak out of log cabins anymore," I murmur, turning in his arms to face him.

Three months of this. Three months of waking up together, sharing coffee in our kitchen, arguing about paint colors and furniture placement like a normal couple building a normal life.

"I still can't believe you talked me into buying a place with wall space specifically designated for your art studio," Nicholas says, trailing his fingers along my bare shoulder.

"I still can't believe you talked me into a loft with acoustics specifically designed for guitar playing."

"Compromise is an important relationship skill."

"Is that what we're calling it, compromise? I think it's us both getting what we want."

Nicholas's laugh rumbles through his chest, and the sound still makes my heart skip. Some things never change. Some things just get better.

"Speaking of compromise," he says, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me, "Diego wants to know if we're coming to his new show next week."

"The one featuring local emerging artists?"

"The one where he's displaying three of your paintings, yes, that one.

I groan and bury my face against Nicholas's shoulder. "I'm going to kill him."

"He means well. And your work is good, Sadie. Good enough that people should see it."

"My work is therapy disguised as art."

Nicholas has been encouraging my painting for months now, setting up the studio space in our loft and occasionally disappearing for hours so I can work in private.

Last week, I caught him staring at my latest piece—an abstract in oranges and golds that somehow captures the feeling of falling in love despite your better judgment.

"What if people hate it?" I ask.

"What if they love it?"

"Then I'll have to acknowledge that I'm actually good at something besides social media strategy and reading people's bullshit."

"Tragedy," Nicholas says solemnly. "A woman with multiple talents. However will the world cope?"

I kiss him to shut him up, and what starts as playful quickly turns into something deeper.

"We should get up," I murmur against his lips. "Big day ahead."

"Should," Nicholas agrees, his hands already moving to strip away the thin tank top I sleep in. "But will we?"

"Probably not."

"Definitely not."

What follows is slow and reverent and completely different from the desperate encounters of our early relationship. This is the sex of people who know they have time, who trust that this moment won't be the last, who've learned that vulnerability makes everything more intense.

Nicholas maps my body with his mouth and hands worshipping every inch of skin like he's still amazed I'm real.

"God, I love the way you taste. So sweet, so perfect. I could spend hours right here, making you fall apart with my mouth."

"Tell me what you want," he says, moving back up my body with predatory grace.

"You," I breathe. "All of you. I want to feel you inside me, I want to watch your face when you lose control, I want to hear you say my name when you come."

"Greedy," he says, but gives me exactly what I'm asking for, pushing inside me with one smooth thrust that has us both groaning.

He kisses my forehead and then my mouth.

"God, Nicholas, you feel so good."

"You feel like home," he breathes, setting a rhythm that's both gentle and demanding.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, changing the angle until he's hitting that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyes.

"Right there," I moan. "Don't stop, don't change anything."

"Here?"

"Yes, fuck, yes."

The crude word from my lips makes him groan, and suddenly his control is slipping. He drives into me with increasing urgency, his mouth finding my neck, my breasts, anywhere he can reach.

"I love you," he pants against my skin. "You're everything I want."

I meet every thrust, I let myself be as vocal as I want, I pour every ounce of love and desire and trust into the way I move beneath him.

When my climax hits, it's with an intensity that leaves me shaking and breathless, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash over me. Nicholas follows moments later, his own release tearing through him as he buries his face against my neck.

"We're going to be late for work," I point out.

"We're the bosses. We can be late."

"You're the boss. I happen to sleep with the boss."

"You happen to be the love of the boss's life," Nicholas corrects, pulling me closer. "There's a difference."

Senior marketing director. My promotion came six weeks ago, along with a corner office and a team of my own to manage. Nicholas insisted it was based purely on merit—my work on the Morrison campaign and the Hartwell resolution.

The office gossip, naturally, focused on other explanations, but it never felt malicious, just teasing.

"Speaking of work," Nicholas says, reaching for his phone to check the time, "we have the Morrison quarterly review this afternoon."

"Right. Are you nervous?"

"About Morrison? No. About the other thing? Terrified."

The other thing. Today's the day Nicholas is finally going to tell James Morrison—and the entire Morrison Industries executive team—that Event Horizons' senior marketing director is also the CEO's girlfriend.

It's a conversation we've been planning for weeks, ever since Morrison started asking pointed questions about our obvious chemistry during business meetings. Better to control the narrative than let office gossip do it for us.

"It'll be fine," I say. "Morrison likes both of us, respects our work, and has seen firsthand that our personal relationship enhances rather than compromises our professional partnership."

"And if he doesn't see it that way?"

"Then we'll handle it. Together."

"Together," Nicholas repeats, like he's still getting used to the concept.

"Together," I confirm. "That's what partners do."

An hour later, we're dressed and sharing coffee in our kitchen—a morning routine that's become as normal as breathing.

Nicholas reads industry news on his tablet while I scroll through social media analytics, and we exist in the kind of comfortable silence that comes from knowing you don't have to perform for each other.

"Diego texted," Nicholas says, showing me his phone. "The gallery opening is definitely happening next week, and he's definitely including your paintings. He also says, and I quote, 'Tell Sadie that hiding talent is a crime against humanity and I'm performing a public service.'"

"I'm definitely going to kill him."

"Before or after you admit he's right about your work being gallery-worthy?"

"Before. Definitely before."

Nicholas's laugh follows me as I head to our bedroom to finish getting ready.

***

The morning passes in productive routine. Team meetings, client calls, strategic planning sessions. The kind of work that reminds me why I fell in love with marketing in the first place—the puzzle of human motivation, the satisfaction of creating campaigns that actually connect with people.

At lunch, Angie appears at my desk with her usual enthusiasm and a suspicious grin.

"So," she says, settling into the chair beside my desk, "rumor has it you and Nicholas are going public today."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Frankie, who heard it from Jennifer, who overheard Nicholas scheduling a 'personal disclosure' meeting with Morrison."

"Office gossip travels fast."

"Office gossip about the CEO and senior marketing director travels at light speed. Especially when everyone's been placing bets on when you'd finally go public, officially."

I look up from my computer. "People have been placing bets?"

"Frankie started a pool three months ago. I had money on you going public after the Morrison quarterly review."

"And now?"

"Now I'm about to win fifty dollars."

I shake my head, but I'm smiling. The Event Horizons team has become something like family over the past year—supportive, protective, genuinely invested in each other's happiness. It's the kind of workplace culture that Nicholas has cultivated despite his reputation for demanding excellence.

"Are you nervous?" Angie asks.

"A little. Change is always scary, even when it's good change."

"This is definitely good change. You two are good for each other."

"We are," I agree. "Surprisingly good."

At 2 PM, Nicholas and I walk into the Morrison Industries quarterly review with professional confidence and personal solidarity. The past year of working with this client has established us as a formidable team—Nicholas handling strategic vision while I manage execution and innovation.

"Nicholas, Sadie," James Morrison greets us with his usual warmth. "Excellent timing. We're ready to discuss Q1 planning and the potential expansion of our partnership."

The business portion of the meeting goes flawlessly. Morrison Industries is thrilled with Event Horizons' work, eager to expand our role in their marketing strategy, and genuinely excited about the creative direction we're proposing for next year.

It's when we reach the end of the formal agenda that Nicholas takes a breath and shifts into personal territory.

"James, there's something Sadie and I wanted to discuss with you. Something that affects our professional partnership."

Morrison's eyebrows rise with interest. "Oh?"

"Sadie and I are in a personal relationship," Nicholas says simply. "We've been together for several months, and we wanted to ensure complete transparency with our clients."

Morrison looks between us, then breaks into a grin. "Well, it's about time you made it official."

"I'm sorry?" I say.

"My marketing team has been commenting on your obvious chemistry for months. Sarah won a betting pool by predicting you'd go public before the end of the year."

Nicholas and I exchange glances. Apparently, everyone has been placing bets on our relationship.

"You're not concerned about professional conflicts?" Nicholas asks.

"Are you kidding? You two work together better than any team I've ever seen.

" Morrison leans back in his chair. "Besides, the best business relationships are built on genuine trust and mutual respect.

If you've found that in each other both personally and professionally, that's something to celebrate. "

Relief floods through me, and I can see Nicholas's shoulders relax for the first time all day.

"Thank you," I say. "We wanted to be completely transparent."

"The only conflict I see is if you two ever break up and I have to choose which one to keep working with," Morrison says with a laugh. "So don't break up."

"We'll do our best," Nicholas says, reaching for my hand under the conference table.

***

"That went well today," I say as we sit down for dinner.

"Better than well. Morrison's reaction was perfect."

"So now what?"

"Now we celebrate the fact that we can be completely honest about our relationship."

"How do you want to celebrate?"

Nicholas smiles. "I want to celebrate by asking you something I've been thinking about for weeks."

Something in his tone makes my heart rate accelerate. "What kind of something?"

"The kind of something that involves a ring and a question and the rest of our lives."

My breath catches. "Nicholas..."

"I know it's soon. I know we've only been living together for three months and officially together for less than a year. But I also know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small velvet box, and suddenly I'm crying while the man I love comes over to my chair and drops to one knee.

"Sadie Reynolds," he says, opening the box to reveal a ring that's exactly what I would have chosen—elegant, simple, perfect. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes," I whisper, then louder, "Yes, absolutely yes."

Nicholas slips the ring onto my finger with hands that shake slightly, then we stand up and he kisses me and spins me around with the kind of joy that makes everything else disappear.

"I love you," he says against my lips, and I know that means, I trust you .