Chapter 86
Chapter 86:
Azalea was perched on a stool at the marble island, digging into a bowl of granola. She looked up, her spoon freezing halfway to her mouth. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on my face.
“Well,” she drawled, a mischievous smirk curling her lips. “Someone had a productive evening p>
I froze, my hand flying instinctively to my mouth. My lips felt tender, swollen and bruised from the kiss Dallas had seared onto them hours ago. Heat flooded my cheeks.
“I… I don’t know what you mean,” I stammered, turning away to fumble with the coffee machine. “I think I had an allergic reaction. To strawberries p>
“Strawberries?” Azalea raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
“There are no strawberries in this penthouse, Adella p>
Dallas’s voice cut through the kitchen like a knife through silk. He walked in dressed in an impeccable charcoal suit that radiated power and money. He didn’t look at Azalea. His dark eyes were fixed on me — or rather, on my mouth. He poured himself a cup of black coffee and took a slow sip. “Not a single one p>
My lie crumbled to dust. Azalea stifled a giggle, burying her face in her bowl. I stood there, mortified, while Dallas watched me with a predator’s satisfaction. He wasn’t hiding it. He wanted everyone to know. He had marked me — not with teeth, but with a possession so absolute it still lingered on my skin.
𝗟𝗮𝘁𝗲ѕ𝘁 𝘤𝗁𝗮𝗉𝘁𝗲𝘳s 𝘰𝗻 𝗴𝗮𝘭𝘯𝘰𝗏е𝗅ѕ.с𝘰𝗆
I fled to my room to get dressed, needing to escape the charged air of the kitchen.
Thirty minutes later, I stood by the front door, clutching my portfolio. I had chosen a modest navy dress for my interview at S&D Design — professional, understated, invisible.
“Wait p>
Dallas appeared from the hallway. He stopped in front of me, his height forcing me to tilt my head back. He studied my face, his gaze critical.
“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” he stated flatly.
“I’m going to an interview. I need to look respectful p>
“You are walking into a den of vipers,” he corrected, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a low rumble, intimate and commanding. “Gavin Stout is a weasel. He feeds on weakness. If you walk in there looking like prey, he will eat you alive p>
He reached into his pocket and produced a tube of lipstick. It wasn’t the soft pink I usually wore — it was a deep, blood-red crimson.
“Wear this p>
I stared at the silver tube in his hand. Red? It’s too bold.
“Red is the color of war, Adella,” he whispered, pressing the tube into my palm. His fingers lingered on mine, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. “He will try to intimidate you because of who you were. Show him who you are becoming p>
I looked up at him, seeing the fierce conviction in his eyes. He wasn’t just giving me makeup. He was handing me armor.
“Make them see you,” he commanded.
I gripped the lipstick tight. “I will p>