Chapter 69
Chapter 69:
He kissed her — softly at first, then deeper, hungrier. Eliza’s hands tangled in his hair. The car felt small and hot, and the center console was a barrier she wanted to climb over.
Dallas pulled back, breathing hard, his pupils blown wide.
“We should stop. Or you’ll be late,” he warned.
Eliza glanced at her watch. “Five minutes p>
“Five minutes is not enough for what I want to do to you,” Dallas said, his voice dropping to a growl.
Eliza felt heat flood her face.
“Tonight,” she promised, her voice a low murmur.
𝖡e 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘧𝗶𝗿𝘀𝗍 𝘁o 𝗿𝘦𝖺𝗱 оո
Dallas’s eyes darkened, a possessive fire igniting in their depths. “Tonight won’t be about a contract, Eliza. It will be about us p>
“I know,” she breathed, her heart hammering with the truth of it.
She opened the door and stepped out, her legs unsteady beneath her.
“Have a good day, Mr. Koch,” she called, glancing back with a small wave.
Dallas watched her walk to the elevator, her pencil skirt cutting a sharp silhouette under the garage lights. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.
Tonight, he echoed.
Stepping out of the Maybach and into the lobby of S&D Design felt like stepping out of a warm bath and into a freezer. The safety of being completely enveloped by his presence in the car now felt a world away.
The ergonomic chair at her desk was technically perfect — lumbar support, adjustable armrests, a mesh back that breathed. To Eliza, it felt like a cage made of expensive plastic and judgment.
She sat at her designated desk in the open-plan office. The air conditioning was set to a temperature that could preserve meat. Around her, the hum of productivity was aggressive — furious typing, hushed phone calls that sounded like hostage negotiations rather than discussions about architectural supplies, and a conspicuous absence of eye contact.
A stack of manila folders landed on her desk with a flat, heavy thud, cutting through the ambient noise like a gunshot.
Eliza didn’t flinch, but her heart delivered a single hard kick against her ribs. She looked up.
A woman with severe glasses and a tight bun stood over her. This was Sarah, a senior associate who had made it clear within the first hour that she considered Eliza an unwelcome distraction rather than a colleague.
“Morning,” Sarah said, her voice thin and sharp. “Augustina asked that all new hires familiarize themselves with our past restoration projects. You can start by organizing these chronologically. It should give you a solid foundation p>
The task was condescendingly simple, its delivery coated in professional ice. Eliza rested her hand on the stack of files. The paper was cool and rough beneath her palm. She could feel the eyes of three junior designers burning into the back of her neck. They were waiting for her to crumble — waiting for the charity case to call her rich husband.
Eliza forced a smile. It felt tight on her face. “I think I can manage, Sarah. Happy to help p>
Sarah sniffed, disappointed by the lack of drama, and marched away.