Chapter 83
Chapter 83:
“Pick a dress,” he murmured. “We have a reputation to salvage. Let’s show them what Mrs. Koch looks like when she isn’t dodging ice buckets p>
Eliza laughed through her tears. She reached for the cream dress she had touched first. “Thank you, Dallas p>
She slipped away to the bathroom to change.
Dallas leaned back against the wardrobe, watching the closed door. He let out a long, slow breath and ran a hand through his hair. He hated lying to her about the timeline. But he would lie forever if it meant she kept looking at him the way she just had — with warmth instead of fear.
Eliza came out five minutes later. The dress fit like a second skin. She looked like someone who had walked through hell and come out untouched.
“Ready?” she asked.
𝗦𝘩𝖺𝘳𝖾 𝘆ou𝗿 𝘁𝗁𝗈𝘂ght𝘀 o𝘯 ѕ.c𝘰𝗺
Dallas held out his hand. “For anything p>
The confidence of the night before — the feeling of his hand in hers as they faced the world together — felt a universe away in the harsh light of morning.
Sunlight sliced through the heavy velvet curtains of the private suite, cutting across the room in a sharp, narrow beam. Dust motes swirled in the shaft of light, their chaotic rhythm matching the sudden spike of adrenaline in Eliza’s chest.
She blinked, her eyes adjusting to an unfamiliar ceiling. Disorientation washed over her — a physical wave of confusion. The sheets were too soft. The air smelled of expensive cedar and something sharper, cleaner. Dallas.
She rolled over and reached out instinctively. The space beside her was empty. The sheets were cool to the touch.
Cold panic pricked at her skin. Had he left? Was last night simply a performance for the public, and now that the sun was up, the cold machinery of their arrangement had clicked back into place?
A sound from the balcony shattered the silence. The scrape of a chair leg against stone.
He was still here.
Eliza released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She sat up and scanned the room. Her silver dress from the night before had been draped carefully over a chair, but she wasn’t putting that back on. She walked to the wardrobe — the one stocked with clothes he had bought for her — and pulled out a silk robe the color of ice. It felt like cool water against her skin.
She tied the sash tight, armor against the morning, and stepped outside.
The city was waking up below them, a low hum of traffic and life, but up here it was quiet. Dallas sat at a small bistro table, showered and dressed in a crisp white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his damp hair combed back. It was a domestic look that felt strangely dangerous on him — like finding a tiger lounging in a living room. He was reading from a tablet, his brow furrowed.
“Good morning,” he said, without looking up. His voice was rough, the sound of gravel turning under tires.
Eliza tightened her grip on the railing. “Morning. Did I oversleep p>
She checked her phone. 8:00 AM.