Chapter 145
Chapter 145:
Eliza couldn’t stop thinking about Azalea. The look on the girl’s face as she’d stomped out the door stayed with her long after the apartment fell quiet.
She decided to intervene. She invited Dallas to dinner again — to discuss Azalea, she told herself.
Dallas arrived promptly. He brought dessert: a rich chocolate cake. He had remembered she loved chocolate.
They ate. Eliza was nervous.
“So, about the tutor,” she began, pushing her fork around her plate.
“She put glue on his chair,” Dallas said dryly. “He quit this afternoon p>
𝖨ո𝗌𝘁a𝘯𝘵 𝖺c𝗰𝘦𝘀𝘀 оn
Eliza pressed her lips together to smother a laugh. “Okay. That’s… creative p>
“Eliza, she needs to focus on her university finals,” Dallas said, his tone shifting to something more serious.
“She will. But maybe you’re being too hard on her. She told me you froze her trust fund p>
“She bought a boat. A yacht. She’s nineteen years old and she spends like she’s forty,” Dallas explained.
Eliza blinked. “Okay. That’s… excessive p>
“But still,” she pressed on. “Ease up. Let her breathe.” She met his eyes. “Let her come over here p>
Dallas leaned back in his chair and studied her with that steady, unreadable gaze. “You want me to be lenient p>
“Yes p>
“What do I get in return?” Always the businessman. Always the deal.
“What do you want?” Eliza asked, wary.
“You,” he said. “Every weekend. At the Penthouse. With us p>
“You want me to move back part-time p>
“I want Azalea to see us together. Stability,” he said — though it was only half the truth. He wanted her in his space, in his life, in every room that had felt too quiet since she left.
Eliza turned it over in her mind. It meant compromising her independence. But she loved Azalea. And honestly, she missed the penthouse. She missed him.
“Fine. Weekends,” she agreed.
“One more thing,” Dallas added.
“Say it again. My title p>
Eliza felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Husband p>
Dallas smiled. “Deal. I’ll unfreeze her allowance. Partially p>
Eliza had the distinct feeling she had just made a deal with the devil — a very handsome devil. Dallas glanced at his watch and rose from the table.
“It’s Friday night. The weekend starts now p>
“Wait — now?” Eliza’s eyes went wide.
“Pack a bag, wife.” He extended his hand. “We’re going home p>
The smell of bacon was the first thing to breach Eliza’s consciousness. Not the polite, distant scent of a hotel breakfast, but the heavy, savory aroma of fat hitting a hot pan in the very next room.
She blinked open her eyes. The ceiling was high, coffered, and achingly familiar. The penthouse. She was in her old guest room — the one that had been her gilded cage and then, gradually, her sanctuary. She had agreed to come back for the weekend, a step forward that now felt like a leap.
Eliza sat up and pushed the duvet off her legs. The bedroom air was cool, a sharp contrast to the warmth she could sense waiting beyond the door. She pulled on her robe and knotted the sash tightly around her waist, as if armoring herself.