He Ordered His Curvy Secretary to Cover Up Until One Man Revealed Why She Had Never Been Free

The ride back to Russo Meridian headquarters was conducted in absolute silence inside the back of a blacked-out Maybach.

Rain lashed against the glass, blurring the neon lights of the city into long streaks of red and white. Cecilia sat near the window, her silk dress gathered neatly around her knees. Beside her, Dallas stared straight ahead, his large hands folded on his lap.

He had not let go of her hand until they reached the car, and even now, the warmth of his fingers seemed branded into her skin.

For three years, Cecilia had lived within strict boundaries. She was the perfect executive assistant. She knew that Dallas took his coffee black with two dashes of cinnamon, that he slept three hours a night, and that he carried a heavy, unyielding grief regarding his father's sudden death five years ago. But she also knew that Dallas Russo was a fortress. No one entered his personal life. No one asked about the tattoos that covered his collarbone.

And no one questioned why he insisted on reviewing every single background check for any employee hired within fifty feet of his office.

The Maybach pulled into the private underground parking bay of the Meridian Tower. The heavy steel gates closed behind them with a deep, echoing clank.

"Take the private elevator to the top floor," Dallas commanded quietly as the driver held the door.

"It's past eleven, Dallas," Cecilia said, stepping out onto the cold concrete. "The office is empty."

"It's safe," he corrected, stepping out beside her.

They rode the glass elevator up eighty stories in silence. When the doors slid open to the empty executive floor, the city spread out beneath them like a carpet of glittering cold jewels.

Dallas walked directly to his massive obsidian desk, stripping off his tuxedo jacket and tossing it over a leather chair. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt, revealing the dark gray ink of an eagle's wing creeping up his throat.

"Sit down, Cecilia," he said.

She remained standing near the window. "I don't appreciate being dragged out of a public event because Lorenzo Costa said a few provocations."

Dallas turned slowly. In the dim office lighting, his gray-blue eyes looked almost silver. "You think Lorenzo was provoking me about the maritime audit?"

"Wasn't he?"

"He didn't come to that table to talk about docks," Dallas said, walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps until he stood directly in front of her. He reached out, his long fingers gently catching a stray lock of dark hair that had fallen from her gown's matching pins, tucking it behind her ear. His touch was so light it gave her goosebumps. "He came to see if you were still wearing the invisible armor I let you keep."

Cecilia’s breath caught in her throat. "What are you talking about?"

"For three years, Cecilia," Dallas whispered, his voice vibrating in his chest, "you came into this office wearing suits three sizes too big, hiding your body, hiding your smile, hiding your light. And I let you do it."

"I dressed professionally," she argued, her voice trembling slightly under his proximity.

"You dressed like a woman who was trying to hide from a predator," Dallas corrected harshly. "And every day, I had to sit behind that desk and pretend I didn't notice how beautiful you were. I had to pretend that every time a client looked at you twice, I didn't want to break their hands."

Cecilia stared at him, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "Why... why would you care how I dress?"

Dallas closed the distance between them, trapping her back against the cool glass window. His breath smelled faintly of expensive bourbon and rain.

"Because six years ago, before you ever applied for a job at my firm," Dallas rasped, his eyes dropping to her trembling lips, "your father lost a debt he couldn't pay to Lorenzo Costa's family in Miami. And Lorenzo claimed a marker."

Cecilia went completely still. The color drained from her face. "My... my father?"

"Your father was a foolish man who gambled away his life," Dallas said dark and low. "When he died, Lorenzo looked for the debt's payment. He found you. You were twenty-two, living in Florida, completely unaware that your father had put your name on a legal indemnity contract."

Cecilia felt as though the floor beneath her heels had vanished into an abyss. "I... I don't understand..."

"You moved to Chicago six years ago because you thought you got a lucky scholarship and a fresh start," Dallas whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the high curve of her cheekbone. "It wasn't luck, Cecilia. I bought your contract from Lorenzo's family court six years ago. I paid twelve million dollars to clear your father's marker so Lorenzo couldn't touch you."

Cecilia pulled back violently, her eyes wide with shock and sudden, burning betrayal.

"You... you bought me?" she choked out.

"I freed you," Dallas spat back, his voice rising with raw emotion. "I bought the contract and locked it in my safe. But Lorenzo never accepted the sale. He's been looking for a crack in my security ever since. The only reason he hasn't snatched you off the street is because you spent three years wearing gray suits, acting like a common secretary, blending into the background."