Alissia POV
The meal went… well? I’m not entirely sure. Twice, Demitri’s hand gripped my dress, covering my exposed thigh as if the sight of my skin was too much for him to bear. The second time, he held it so tightly, his fist clenched in the fabric like it physically hurt him to let me be exposed.
Why does he care so much? If he didn’t want my leg on display, maybe he should’ve chosen a different dress? Now, it’s just the two of us left at the table, and he turns toward me, his sharp eyes catching mine.
“Each day my work changes,” he begins, his voice steady but intense. “There may be days where you cannot join me, and days where you can be with me all day. I have a question, Alissia. What is your limit?”
I blink. Limits again? Every man I’ve met so far asks me about limits. “I have
