Chapter 114
Chapter 114:
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Dallas pulled back. His hands on her waist tightened — not painfully, but with a grounding, deliberate force. His eyes went dark, the blue turning to slate.
“She’s using your mother to pimp you out to a banker p>
“It’s for Victoria,” Eliza explained, seeing the dangerous glint in his eyes. “She’s holding my mother’s heirlooms hostage. I have to go, Dallas. It’s the last string they have to pull — the last debt I need to settle so I can leave that part of my life behind completely p>
Dallas paced the length of his office, dragging a hand through his hair. “Lance Harrods. The man is a walking calculator. He doesn’t date — he acquires assets p>
“I’ll get the heirlooms, reject him, and leave,” she promised.
“Weston will drive you,” Dallas decided, stopping in front of her. “I’ll be in the follow car p>
“You can’t. It’s strange,” Eliza argued. “Husbands don’t shadow their wives on dinners with other men p>
“I’m not shadowing you. I’m monitoring my asset,” he said, his voice cold. It was not a negotiation.
𝗡e𝘸 𝖼𝘩a𝗉𝘵𝖾𝗿s е𝘃e𝗿𝘆 𝗐е𝗲𝘬 𝗈𝗇.с𝗈𝘮
That evening, the silence inside the Rolls-Royce was thick enough to choke on. Weston drove with stoic precision. Eliza sat in the back, Dallas beside her — a silent, imposing storm cloud. They pulled up to Le Bernardin, one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city.
“One hour,” Dallas warned as the valet opened her door. “If you aren’t out, I’m coming in p>
Eliza entered the restaurant. Lance Harrods was seated at a corner table, checking his watch.
“You’re two minutes late,” Lance said without looking up from his tablet. “Efficient, but not perfect p>
Eliza sat down. “Traffic p>
Lance ordered for both of them without asking her preference. Then he got straight to business.
“Victoria says you’re fertile and educated. Good stock,” Lance said, cutting his steak.
Eliza choked on her water. “Excuse me p>
Lance slid a manila folder across the table. “The prenup p>
“I haven’t even ordered a salad and you’re proposing?” Eliza asked, incredulous.
“Why waste time? I need a wife for my Senate run next year. Voters like family men. You need — whatever orphans need. Security. Money.” He waved a dismissive hand.
Eliza opened the folder. It was insulting. A literal schedule of “marital duties” and public appearances. There was also a clause assigning him full control over all “Solomon family assets, tangible or intellectual,” upon marriage. Anson had been right.
She covertly photographed the page titled Section 4: Heirs and texted it to Dallas with the caption: This is what they think of me.
Outside, in the follow car, Dallas looked at his phone. He zoomed in on the clause: Heirs to be produced within 24 months. He zoomed in further on the asset clause.
He gripped the armrest until it creaked. His jaw was set so hard a muscle ticked violently in his cheek.
Inside, Lance continued. “You’ll quit your job, obviously. Restoration is a hobby, not a career for a Senator’s wife p>