Chapter 9
Nolan watched him go.
Then became serious.
“Mara.”
She knew that voice.
“What?”
“I have something for you.”
“If it's another building, I'm leaving.”
“No building.”
“Company?”
“No.”
“Foundation?”
“No.”
“Private island?”
“I do own—”
“Nolan.”
“Right.”
He reached into his jacket.
Mara's stomach flipped.
But he did not produce a ring.
He produced a folded piece of paper.
She opened it.
It was a photocopy of the original Ortega acquisition contract.
The one she had read at her kitchen table two years earlier.
One clause was highlighted.
The clause that would have allowed Pierce North to consolidate manufacturing after eighteen months.
The clause Mara had pointed to when she asked Nolan what he intended to destroy.
Below it, Nolan had written:
**This was the last contract I signed without understanding who paid for the words.**
Mara stared at it.
“You kept this?”
“On my desk.”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes I forget.”
She looked at him.
“Forget what?”
“That being able to do something doesn't mean I should.”
She folded the paper.
“That's almost wisdom.”
“Don't sound so shocked.”
“I've watched your development closely.”
He smiled.
Then became nervous.
Actually nervous.
Mara narrowed her eyes.
“Oh, no.”
“What?”
“You're about to say something uncomfortable.”
“I am.”
“Don't.”
“I love you.”
Mara stared at him.
Around them, machines hummed.
Workers talked.
Someone dropped a tool.
Nolan Pierce—the man who could negotiate billion-dollar acquisitions without blinking—looked terrified.
Mara folded her arms.
“How long?”
“Longer than is convenient.”
“That isn't a number.”
“Eighteen months.”
Her eyes widened.
“You've loved me for eighteen months and said nothing?”
“You taught me that some doors belong to other people.”
That shut her up.
Nolan stepped closer.
“I didn't want helping Bellweather to become a transaction where I did something good and expected you in return.”
Mara's expression softened.
“So I waited.”
“For what?”
“For you to open the door.”
She looked at him for a long time.
Then smiled.
“You're learning.”
“Painfully.”
She kissed him.
Once.
Briefly.
When she pulled away, Nolan looked stunned.
“That was the door opening?”
“About three inches.”
“I'll take it.”
“You'll take what you're given.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
She laughed.
---
They did not marry six weeks later.
Or six months later.
Mara would have hated that ending.
They dated.
Slowly.
Nolan learned how to exist in her life without buying solutions to everything.
Mara learned that sometimes accepting help was not surrendering independence.