Chapter 6 - The Morning After
Morning arrived over Lake Ontario in waves of pale gold and crisp blue light.
I woke up wrapped in high-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, the heavy warmth of Yusef’s arm draped possessively over my waist, pulling my back tightly against his chest.
I lay there for a long moment, listening to the steady, deep rhythm of his breathing, watching the sunlight bounce off the water forty stories below.
For the first time in my adult life, I didn't wake up with a knot of panic in my stomach. I didn't wake up calculating interest rates, checking my bank balance, or wondering if today was the day my father's creditors would find my door.
The air smelled of fresh espresso.
I turned slowly inside Yusef’s embrace. He was already awake, his hazel eyes open, watching me with a quiet, peaceful intensity. His dark hair was rumpled, a faint shadow of stubble along his sharp jaw line.
"Good morning," I murmured, sliding my hand up his bare chest to rest against his shoulder.
"Good morning," Yusef said softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to my forehead. "How is your arm?"
I looked down at my left arm. The heavy bandage was still intact, but the throbbing pain had faded to a dull, manageable ache. "It feels fine. Much better than it did when I was holding a stapler."
A faint smile touched his lips. "If I ever see a stapler in your apartment again, I'm throwing it out the window."
"My apartment," I said, sitting up slightly, pulling the sheet up to my chest. "I suppose I need to go back and pack my things."
Yusef sat up beside me, resting his back against the mahogany headboard. He reached out, taking my right hand in his, his thumb tracing the soft skin of my inner wrist.
"You don't need to go back to Parkdale, Sena," he said evenly. "My team cleared your apartment three hours ago. Your personal belongings—your books, your clothes, your records—are already being moved into the guest suite down the hall. Unless you prefer to keep them in this room."
I stared at him, my mouth opening slightly in surprise. "You had my apartment packed at six in the morning?"
"At five in the morning," Yusef corrected smoothly, a spark of playful amusement in his eyes. "I don't like efficiency gaps."
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "You are incredible, Mr. Corvin."
"Yusef," he reminded me gently, pulling me back down against his chest until my head rested over his heart. "Inside these walls, I'm just Yusef."
Later that afternoon, we walked into the Corvin Tower together.
The energy on the thirty-fourth floor had shifted dramatically. Fowler’s office was completely dark, the glass doors sealed with red security tape, two private security guards standing posted outside. News of the Haverstock Holdings financial collapse was already making headlines on every business channel playing on the lobby screens.
As we walked down the central corridor toward the executive suite, staff members stepped aside, bowing their heads in quiet respect. But they weren't just looking at Yusef. They were looking at me—standing at his side, wearing a sharp grey wool suit, my chin held high, my face serene and unshakeable.
We stopped outside my office door.
"The board meeting is at two," Yusef said, looking down at me. "I want you in that room, Sena. As Chief Financial Officer."
I blinked, taken aback. "CFO? Yusef... the board hasn't voted on that."
"The board does what I tell them to do," Yusef said flatly, a hint of his signature authority returning to his voice. "And there isn't a person in this city who understands the integrity of a ledger better than you."
I looked at my reflection in the glass door of my office. The tired, pale girl who had sat on a cold linoleum floor three nights ago with a stapler was gone. In her place stood a woman who had walked through the fire, faced her ghosts, and come out victorious.
"All right," I said, a soft, confident smile gracing my lips. "I'll accept the position. But my first order of business is restructuring the Gibraltar audit protocols."
May you like
Yusef looked at me with an expression of such fierce, unadulterated pride that it took my breath away. He reached out, his hand resting gently against the side of my face.
"Whatever you want, Sena," he whispered. "The company is yours. My heart is yours."
