Chapter 171
Chapter 171:
“For letting Dallas Koch touch you,” Anson sneered. “I know he’s been with you. But I can overlook it. I can clean you p>
The word hung in the marble air between them.
Dirty.
Eliza’s hand moved before she had finished the thought.
The slap cracked through the lobby like a gunshot. Staff at the concierge desk looked up. Heads turned.
Anson’s head snapped to the side. A vivid red mark bloomed across his pale cheek.
“I am not dirty,” Eliza said, her voice low and absolute. “I am loved. By a man who is twice what you will ever be.” She held his gaze without flinching. “I don’t love you, Anson. I never will again. You are nothing to me p>
Anson touched his cheek slowly. The softness in his eyes extinguished, replaced by something flat and black.
рo𝗽𝘶𝘭𝘢𝗿 ѕtо𝗋і𝘦𝘴 oո
“You love him?” He laughed — a dark, broken sound. “You love Koch p>
“Yes,” she said, and the word tasted like freedom. It was the first time she had said it so plainly, so defiantly, without hedging or apology. “I love Dallas p>
Anson lunged. He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her against his chest.
“You’re lying! You’re trying to make me jealous!” He forced his face toward hers, trying to kiss her.
Eliza pushed back hard against him. “Get off me p>
“Hey — back off!” One of the guards broke into a run toward them.
A camera flash burst from somewhere nearby.
Hunter Lloyd — notorious social climber and blogger — stood ten feet away with his phone raised and a wide, predatory grin on his face.
“Trouble in paradise, Hyde?” Hunter called out.
Anson didn’t release her. He held on tighter, possessively, and turned to face the camera with deliberate calm.
“She’s mine, Hunter,” he said. “Put that in your blog p>
Eliza felt sick. He was staking a claim on her body in public, against her will, and using it as a performance.
Then a hand came down on Anson’s shoulder.
A large hand. On one finger, a simple silver wedding band. On another, a heavy gold signet ring.
Dallas didn’t speak. He ripped Anson away from Eliza with a single, violent motion and shoved him back. Anson’s feet tangled beneath him and he crashed into a large planter, sending soil spilling across the marble floor.
Dallas stepped between them. A wall of muscle and barely contained rage, his suit jacket strained across his shoulders.
“Touch her again,” Dallas said. His voice was quiet — the kind of quiet that was far more frightening than shouting. “And I will break every finger in your hand p>
Anson straightened his jacket, working to reassemble some shred of dignity. “This is between me and my fiancée, Koch p>
“She is not your fiancée,” Dallas said. “She just slapped you. Are you deaf, or simply stupid p>
Hunter Lloyd was still recording from the periphery, his phone raised and his grin wide. “Oh, this is gold. The Koch heir versus the Hyde heir p>
Dallas turned his head slowly toward Hunter. “Delete it p>
“Free press, man,” Hunter smirked.