Elise York's brow furrowed in displeasure.
But she couldn't show her anger in front of Damian Fairchild.
She pressed her lips together, her gaze fixed on the man who had just showered, his hair still damp.
Under the lights, he wore a navy blue shirt with matching trousers. He wasn't wearing a tie, but he still looked impeccably sharp from head to toe—noble, cool, and captivating.
Elise York was hopelessly in love with his handsome, extraordinary appearance.
But the thought that she had never truly possessed him, even now, made a bitter jealousy well up inside her.
Still, she silently told herself, 'Just a little more patience, and it will all be fine.'
'Once I successfully marry the man before me, I will be the rightful Mrs. Fairchild. Then, no one will be able to snatch him away from me.'
At this thought, Elise York's emotions quickly settled.
