God only knew why his palms got sweaty just from holding her hand.
He’d held countless women’s hands before — some out of politeness, some out of performance, and plenty more during wild nights that blurred into each other. None of them had ever made his pulse spike . His last "serious" relationship was over six months ago, and even that felt more like a contractual arrangement than anything resembling intimacy.
Desire for money, money for desire — that was the deal. No one wasted time on hand-holding.
After settling the bill, they stepped out of the warm restaurant glow into the cool night air. Before she could tuck her hands into her coat pockets — or into safety — Morrison reached out and grasped her hand firmly.
Not too tight. But deliberate. Possessive.
To his surprise, Lilian didn’t resist. She simply blinked at their joined hands and let him lead her to the car, her cheeks just faintly pink under the streetlight.
She was soft. Not fragile, but unarmored. Her silence wasn’t submission, but consideration. And it made him more nervous than any woman who had thrown herself into his arms.
Inside the car, Morrison broke the quiet. "So, what are your plans after graduation?"
Lilian glanced at him, surprised by the question. "Nothing special. I assume Dave will want me to start at Washington Co. It’s expected."
That irked him. The idea of Dave — overprotective, nosy, obsessive Dave — hovering over her at work like some human CCTV was enough to ruin his appetite.
He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, thinking quickly. "Why not come to MOS Corp instead?"
"You’re about to graduate. If you’re working at Washington, we’ll barely get to see each other. But at MOS, well — I can make sure we see plenty of each other."
He cast her a smile that was just on the edge of cocky.
Lilian looked at him, wide-eyed, trying to figure out if he was serious.
It wasn’t just convenience. He wanted her in his space — not tucked away under her brother’s shadow, not filtered through another man’s approval.
"Working at MOS...?" she murmured, almost to herself. Her resistance was surprisingly soft.
This relationship had only just begun. She couldn’t very well break up with him after three dinners and a stolen kiss. And Morrison had a point — if she ended up at Washington Co, she and Morrison would have to hide every encounter like criminals.
Still, she hesitated. "But what about Dave? He’ll never agree."
Morrison laughed. "Leave Dave to me."
There was a glint in his eyes — arrogant and familiar. The kind of glint that said, I always win.
Lilian hesitated, then nodded slowly. "If you can handle him, then... I’ll go."
But before she could settle into the idea, reality snapped back. "Wait, can your company even take someone like me? A fresh grad?"
She wasn’t being falsely modest. MOS Corp wasn’t a place you just walked into. It was part of the Burg Eltz network — competitive, cutthroat, intimidating. At Washington Co., her family name gave her leverage. At MOS? She’d be a rookie.
Morrison glanced at her like she’d just said something stupid.
"Lilian, it’s my company. If I say you get a desk, you get a desk. Besides..." he smirked, "you’re not applying to be CFO."
She mumbled under her breath, "But how are you going to explain our relationship?"
He knew what she meant. The workplace rumors. The double standards. The headlines.
"No one’s going to know you’re my little girlfriend," he said, casually.
"Little... girlfriend?" Lilian whispered, caught off-guard by the phrase. It felt strange. Strange, but not unpleasant. Like stepping into a new pair of shoes you weren’t sure would fit.
Morrison smirked at her reaction, then added, "You’re majoring in accounting, right?"
She nodded slowly. "How’d you know?"
"Dave told me. Well — more like complained. Said something about how you studying accounting was a disaster waiting to happen."
Lilian rolled her eyes, already familiar with that rant. "He wanted me to study secretarial work. Something more... girly."
Morrison chuckled. "He said whoever hired you for finance would be doomed."
"At the time," he added, "I was holding some actress in my arms, trying to calm him down. Told him, ’Let the kid study what she wants. It’s not like she’s going to run the company.’"
He paused, smile deepening. "Guess that doomed person turned out to be me."
The car rolled to a soft stop beneath a tree just outside her school. Not the front gate — too visible. She’d specifically asked for discretion.
Lilian undid her seatbelt and reached for the door handle. "Thanks for dinner, Mr. Morrison. Drive safe."
He reached over and caught her wrist before she could escape. His grip wasn’t hard — but it wasn’t letting go either.
"’Mr. Morrison’? That sounds awfully distant for someone you’re dating."
She turned back, puzzled. "It sounds normal to me."
"Exactly. Too normal." He tilted his head. "Let’s change it. Every time you say it, I feel like I’m in some weird soap opera where I’m dating my assistant."
She raised a brow. "Then what should I call you?"
He leaned in slightly, just enough for her to notice. "Why don’t you decide?"
She blinked, lips parting slightly in thought. "...Uncle?"
Morrison froze. Just for a second.
Then his expression darkened like storm clouds rolling over a city skyline.
"Do you want your brother to start calling me that too?"
Lilian stifled a laugh and stuck out her tongue — childish, teasing, but adorably unafraid.
"Okay, okay. It’s just a name. Let’s talk about it later. Bye!"
Before he could grab her again, she bolted — practically leaping out of the car and running toward the shadowy path back to her dorms.
Morrison remained in the car, one hand still resting on the empty passenger seat, the ghost of her warmth fading fast.
She was playful. Impossible. Untouched by the games he knew.
He started the engine, eyes still lingering on the street where she’d vanished.
He really should’ve kissed her just now.
Next time, he told himself. There’d be a next time.
And when there was, he wasn’t going to let her get away with just sticking out her tongue.