Dorian stepped back, straightening his suit as she slid off the desk. Catherine fixed her clothes with unsteady hands, wiping her face... every place he had touched, as if she could erase the moment.
Her fingers trembled. Her heartbeat still thundered in her ears.
"Katerina…" He reached for her again. "I'm sorry. I lost control. I found you—and made all these plans to be with you. And when I saw you with him—"
She said nothing.
Was that even an apology? Why should she pay for his jealousy?
She crouched, gathering her scattered files before he could help, refusing his touch, his nearness. When she rose, her spine was straight, her gaze level and unflinching.
"Let's not meet again, Mr. Blackwood," she said, voice steady despite the storm inside her. "I'm not looking for a husband."
Focus on me. Come to me alone.
His words echoed… and shattered.
No.
This life was not about belonging to a man.
This life was about choosing herself.
