Reborn To Claim My CEO Husband

Damon stared at her. The proximity was maddening. He could see the faint pulse beating at the base of her throat, right above the collar of her beige dress.

He forced his eyes back to hers, his expression hardening. He wasn't going to fall into whatever trap she was setting.

"I have a business dinner tonight," Damon said flatly.

It was a lie. His schedule was clear after six. He just needed to put a wall between them before she completely dismantled his sanity.

Elliana didn't flinch. The rejection didn't wipe the smile off her face. Instead, her smile grew softer, more understanding.

"That's okay," she said, standing up straight. "I'll wait up for you."

She turned around, walked back to the sofa, picked up the club sandwich she had brought for him, and took a delicate bite. She chewed slowly, looking around the office as if she owned the place, completely unbothered by his coldness.

Damon watched her back, a surge of intense, irrational irritation flaring in his chest. She wasn't following the rules. She wasn't throwing a tantrum. She was just... sitting there, eating the food he rejected.

He snatched the receiver off his desk phone and hit the speed dial for his assistant. "Campbell. Bring a hot milk to my office."

Two minutes later, Campbell knocked and entered, carrying a steaming mug of milk. He placed it on the coffee table in front of Elliana, casting a bewildered glance at his boss before practically fleeing the room.

Damon glared at Elliana. "Drink it and leave."

Elliana picked up the mug. She brought it to her lips, took a small sip, and then, with a subtle flick of her wrist, tilted the mug just enough.

"Ah!" she gasped.

A splash of hot milk spilled over the rim, landing directly on the front of her beige dress. A dark, wet stain immediately spread across the fabric over her thigh.

Damon's head snapped up. His brow furrowed deeply.

Elliana looked down at the stain, her eyes wide with exaggerated dismay. "Oh no. I spilled it." She looked up at Damon, biting her lower lip. "This dress is a limited edition. It's dry-clean only. I can't walk out of the building looking like this."

Damon saw right through it. The spill was too perfectly timed, too deliberate. But he couldn't exactly call her a liar and throw her out in a stained dress.

Elliana stood up. She looked around the office, her eyes landing on the sleek, unmarked door to the left of his desk.

"That's the executive lounge, right?" she asked innocently. "Do you mind if I use the bathroom to clean up?"

Without waiting for his permission, she walked past his desk, pushed the door open, and disappeared into his private suite.

Damon stared at the closed door, a muscle ticking violently in his jaw. He pinched the bridge of his nose. She was infuriating. She was an absolute menace.

Thirty minutes passed. Damon had aggressively signed his way through a stack of contracts, but the door to the lounge remained shut.

He threw his pen down. He was just about to get up and pound on the door when the handle clicked.

Elliana stepped out.

Damon's breath caught in his throat. The air in his lungs vanished.

She had taken a shower. Her long hair was damp, hanging in loose, dark waves over her shoulders. But it was what she was wearing that paralyzed him.

She was wearing one of his spare white dress shirts.

It swallowed her small frame. The hem barely reached the middle of her thighs, leaving her long, bare legs completely exposed to the cool air of the office. She hadn't buttoned it all the way up; the top three buttons were undone, revealing the delicate curve of her collarbones and the deep shadow of her cleavage.

She walked toward him, barefoot, her toes sinking into the plush carpet.

"My dress is completely soaked," Elliana said, her voice light and airy. She held up the damp beige fabric in one hand. "I had to borrow your shirt. You don't mind, do you?"

Elliana watched as Damon's eyes involuntarily tracked the movement of her bare legs. She saw his Adam's apple bob sharply as he swallowed hard, a clear sign that his throat had gone bone dry. The veins in his neck seemed to pulse with a sudden, violent intensity, revealing the internal battle he was fighting.

He gripped the armrests of his chair so hard the leather creaked. His knuckles turned stark white under the pressure. "Who told you to touch my things?" he growled, his voice an octave lower than normal.

Elliana stopped in front of his desk. She tilted her head, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes that completely contradicted the sinful picture she painted.

"But I didn't have any clothes to wear," she pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. "Damon, you wouldn't expect me to walk out of here naked, would you?"

She took the final step, rounding the desk. She reached out and lightly grabbed the cuff of his suit jacket, tugging on it gently.

"Since I look like this," she whispered, her eyes locking onto his, "you have to take me home now."