Chapter 410
Dallas threw on a heavy silk robe and tied it tight to hide the dressing and the towel. He grabbed a bottle of cologne and sprayed it liberally around the room to mask the metallic scent of blood and antiseptic. Then he sank into the armchair by the fire and took the glass of amber liquid Simmons handed him. It was tea, but it looked like whiskey.
The bedroom door flew open.
Vinnie burst in, followed by Serena and a quietly watchful Vance.
“Surprise!” Vinnie yelled.
Dallas took a sip of his tea, forcing his hand not to shake. He fixed them with a bored, annoyed expression.
“Do you people not understand the concept of a locked door?” Dallas drawled.
Vance scanned the room. He sniffed the air. “Cologne? Heavy cologne?”
“I spilled a bottle,” Dallas said smoothly. “What do you want?”
“We want you to drink with us,” Vinnie said, grabbing Dallas’s arm to pull him up.
Dallas flinched. Vinnie had seized him right near the port. Pain shot through his chest.
“Don’t touch me,” Dallas snapped, pulling away.
“Whoa, touchy,” Vinnie laughed. “Come on, get dressed. We’re going to The Lounge. Eliza is there with Julian.”
Dallas froze. “Eliza is with Julian?”
“Yep,” Serena said. “Saw them on Instagram. Looks cozy.”
Dallas stood up. The pain was excruciating, but the jealousy was worse.
“Get out,” Dallas said. “I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”
“Promise?” Vance asked, eyeing him closely.
“Promise,” Dallas lied. “Now get out so I can dress.”
As soon as the door closed, Dallas slumped back into the chair, gasping for air. He looked down. A small red stain was seeping through the silk robe.
He needed to change. And he needed more painkillers.
He was going to The Lounge. And he was going to stop that engagement, even if it killed him.
Eliza walked out of the restaurant with Julian, the cool night air hitting her face.
“I’ll drive you home,” Julian offered.
“No,” Eliza said. “I have my car. I need to think.”
“About the ring size?” Julian smirked.
“About everything.”
Eliza walked to the parking garage alone. Her heels echoed on the concrete. She felt hollow. She was winning the business war, but she was losing her soul. Marrying Julian — it felt like giving up.
She reached her car and unlocked it.
Suddenly, a black Bentley screeched around the corner and blocked her in. Eliza jumped back. The passenger window rolled down.
Dallas.
He looked impeccable in a charcoal suit, but his face was gaunt.
“Get in,” he ordered.
“I have my own car,” Eliza said, moving to go around him.
The back door opened. Dallas stepped out, using the frame for a split second of support before straightening his shoulders. He moved slowly, stiffly, but he moved. He grabbed her wrist. His grip was a paradox of strength and weakness — his fingers dug in with bruising intensity, yet she could feel the fine tremor running through his entire arm.
“We need to talk,” he said, pulling her not with force but with an unyielding pressure her exhausted body couldn’t fight. He guided her toward the fire exit door in the corner of the garage.
“Let go of me!” Eliza struggled. “You’re hurting—”
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