Chapter 16
Chapter 16:
“You didn’t marry me for a deal, did you?” Eliza asked. Her voice trembled.
Dallas stopped inches from her, tall enough to block out the sun. He reached out, and his hand — rough and warm — cupped her cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear that had escaped.
“I married you because I couldn’t watch you break anymore,” he admitted.
It wasn’t a declaration of love. Not explicitly. But it was heavy with it.
Eliza looked into his eyes and saw the depth there — the patience, the quiet and terrifying intensity of a man who would wait years simply to plant a flower she might love.
She wasn’t a pawn. She was the queen on his chessboard.
A wind moved through the garden, scattering white petals around them like snow.
Dallas leaned down. Eliza didn’t pull away. She tilted her face up, her eyes closing.
He didn’t kiss her lips.
𝗥о𝗆𝖺n𝘤𝗲 ո𝗼𝘷𝖾𝘭𝘀 о𝘯 ѕ.𝖼𝘰𝗆
He pressed his mouth to her forehead instead — a firm, lingering kiss. A kiss of reverence. A kiss of possession.
“Welcome home, Eliza,” he whispered against her skin.
Eliza exhaled a breath she felt she had been holding for five years. The walls around her heart didn’t just crack. They crumbled into dust.
From the second-story window, Mrs. Higgins watched them. She smiled, wiping her hands on her apron. The master was finally happy.
The chill of the evening finally seeped through their clothes, breaking the spell of the garden. Dallas pulled back at last, though he didn’t let go of her. His hand slid down her arm to grip her fingers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
“Come,” he said, his voice shifting from tender to something more grounded, more urgent. “We need to secure this. Tonight. I want no doubts about where you belong p>
He led her out of the garden, away from the dreamy scent of roses and toward the imposing glass walls of the house. Eliza followed, feeling a strange mixture of lightness and gravity. He had given her the poetry in the garden; she sensed he was about to give her the fortress.
They crossed the threshold into the warmth of the living room, but Dallas didn’t stop. He guided her straight to the leather-bound reality of his study.
“A home needs a foundation, Eliza,” he murmured as he pushed open the heavy oak door. “Not just words. Something real. Something no one can ever take from you again p>
The study was warm, smelling of old leather and the expensive scotch Dallas had poured moments ago. A fire crackled in the hearth. Mr. Sterling, Dallas’s senior lawyer, was waiting beside the mahogany desk. He looked up as they entered, his expression professional and unsurprised.
“The papers are ready, Mr. Koch,” Sterling said.
Dallas guided Eliza to the chair in front of the desk and pressed her down gently by the shoulders.
“This is the second half of the promise,” he whispered close to her ear before straightening up.