11. Leah
Chapter eleven
Leah
It’s definitely the wine.
That’s what I keep telling myself over and over again as I sit across from Silas in this overpriced restaurant, pretending I’m not replaying that kiss in my head. What the hell had possessed me to kiss him at my father’s house the other night? It’s not like I wanted to kiss him. No, I didn’t. Not even a little bit. It was definitely the wine.
God, I hope it was the wine.
Silas suddenly shifts in his seat, eyes fixed on me like he’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking. I can tell because his brows furrow a little, just like they always do when he’s trying to read someone.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice low but with that annoying, familiar note of command.
I glance up from the half-empty glass of water I’ve been staring at, like it holds all the answers to my problems. No wine for me today. I don’t want to start kissing him again.
“It’s none of your business,” I snap back, sharper than intended.
He raises an eyebrow but says nothing. He keeps watching me. And it’s doing things to me that I’m not comfortable with. Damn him. He looks so good sitting there in that charcoal suit, broad shoulders filling it out like it was made for him—which, knowing Silas, it probably was.
His hair’s starting to gray at the temples, just a little, but instead of making him look old, it makes him look distinguished. Sexy, even.
Fuck. Why does he have to be so good-looking? I hate it. I hate this. I hate him .
Well, maybe not hate, but something close. I’ve spent years trying to forget that night in Rome, trying to push the memory of his hands on me, how he made me feel, to the back of my mind. And now here he is, back in my life, like a bad habit I can’t kick.
Hell, I can still feel his hands on my ass from last night.
I shift in my seat and cross my arms, trying to get a handle on my spiraling thoughts. The waitress arrives with our order—a ridiculously fancy plate of something I don’t even recognize.
I don’t touch it. Silas doesn’t touch his food, either. Instead, he leans forward slightly. I take a long sip of my water. Then, he starts, lowering his voice as he says, “I need you to stay engaged to me for four months.”
Four months.
I nearly choke on my drink. Four months with this man. This absolute control freak who’s somehow managed to worm his way back into my life like a damn parasite.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Four months?”
He nods. “Until Caleb passes his final exams and gets into Livingston High.”
Caleb. Right. This is about Caleb. It’s always been about Caleb. I owe Silas for saving my life, and this is a way to pay him back. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself, though part of me wonders if that’s really true. Maybe, just maybe, I’m doing this to get back at my father.
The thought sends a small thrill through me, but I push it away before it can take root.
Silas leans back in his chair, arms resting on the chair, looking way too relaxed for someone who just dropped that bomb.
“Four months,” I mutter under my breath. “Fuck.”
He looks like he’s about to smirk, but he keeps it under wrap. Of course, he does. “What?”
“I just can’t imagine spending four months pretending to be engaged to you.” I put a hand to my temple.
“I’m not that bad.”
“Yes, you’re worse than you think.”
“Huh.”
“We’ll need some boundaries,” I say quickly, eager to establish some control over this ridiculous situation. “Clear boundaries. This arrangement stays professional. No,” I clear my throat. “ physical stuff. No sex. No touching. Nothing.”
The look he gives me in response is pure amusement. “You sure about that? Because the other night—”
“That was a mistake,” I cut in, my voice sharp. “And it’s not happening again.”
Silas is quiet for a moment, his eyes flicking over my face. And the way he looks at me feels like he’s undressing me with his gaze. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, acutely aware of how close we are.
“There may be times we’ll have to kiss,” he says, his tone casual, like it’s no big deal. “When Caleb’s around, for instance.”
“Of course.” I scoff.
“And there’s the Caldwell deal,” he adds, his voice lower. “I need to present the image of a stable family man. You’ll have to act like my loving fiancée.”
I gape at him. “Are you serious? Is this really about Caleb, or is it all about your precious business deal?”
“Why does it matter?” he asks. “You said you owe me. This is your chance to make good on it.”
“It does matter because I’m mostly doing this for Caleb, unlike you, who cares more about your deal than your own son.”
That hits a nerve. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, in the way his eyes flash with sudden irritation. He leans in, his voice tinged with anger, “I’m doing this for both Caleb and myself. Don’t you dare try to imply otherwise.”
I shut my mouth, feeling a flicker of guilt. I shouldn’t have said that. He’s a lot of things—arrogant, insufferable—but he’s not a bad father. At least, I don’t think so.
Silas stares at me, the tension between us thick enough to reach out and grab. After a long, charged moment, he breaks the silence with a question I really wasn’t expecting.
“Why did you kiss me the other night?”
My heart skips a beat. “What?”
“The kiss,” he repeats, his eyes boring into mine. “Why did you do it?”
I look away, my cheeks heating up. “It was . . . an ill-brained attempt to piss off my father,” I admit quietly, feeling more than a little embarrassed. “And it won’t happen again.”
For a moment, he says nothing, just watches me with his piercing eyes, like he’s weighing my words. Then, he leans back and smirks. “It has to happen again. But next time, let’s at least make sure the conditions are right.”
I glare at him, hating how smug he looks and how in control he always seems to be. I’m about to respond when he adds, “We’ll need to make the engagement public. For the Caldwell deal.”
I tense up. “Public? You can’t be serious.”
He shrugs. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your name out of the papers. I can’t risk your father finding out.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t give a shit if my father finds out.”
“Well, I do,” he snaps, his tone suddenly sharp. “If you can’t keep this from Harvey, then we may as well call off the deal right now.”
I sigh. “Fine.”
“Any boyfriend I should know of?” he asks, steepling his fingers.
“No.” I shake my head. “None.”
He looks like he doesn’t care. And for some reason, it stings. I hate that he makes me feel this way. Why do I care what he thinks?
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with unspoken threats. I clench my jaw, weighing my options. I could walk away from this right now. I could stand up, tell him to fuck off, and never see him again.
But Caleb. I can’t forget why I’m doing this in the first place.
And then he throws in the final incentive. “You’ll be paid, of course. Name your price.”
Of course. The money. There it is. The part of this whole thing that makes me feel like I’m no better than the people I’ve spent my life trying to avoid. I want to make it on my own, to prove to myself, and to my father, that I don’t need to rely on anyone.
But here I am, about to make money from Silas.
As if reading my thoughts, he says, “You’ll earn every penny. You’ll have to pretend to be my fiancée while working as my assistant. Trust me, the money’s well-earned.”
“I don’t need your money,” I croak out.
“I have your account details from the employment contract you signed, and I’ll be paying you.” He shrugs. “You’re my assistant. So just see the payment as a bonus or whatever.” I stare at him, my mind racing, but before I can respond, he says, “I’m sorry.”
I blink. “What?”
“For what happened all those years ago. For chasing you off in Rome.”
His words catch me off guard. For a second, I see something in his eyes. Regret, maybe? But it’s too little, too late. I’ve built walls around that part of my life, and I’m not letting him tear them down now.
I fold my arms. “I don’t care. I’m doing this to get the debt I owe you off my neck and for Caleb.”
Silas gives a curt nod, his face unreadable. “Fine.”
We sit silently, the air between us heavy with tension. I deeply breathe and ask, “When are we telling Caleb?”
“He has a soccer game tomorrow,” Silas says. “We’ll go together, break the news to him then.”
I nod, pushing my food around on my plate. “Why are you buying Caldwell Media, anyway?”
Silas’s expression softens slightly, just for a moment. “It’s for my brother. The movie we’re making; it’s based on a script he wrote before he died. I’m doing this for him.”
I glance up at him, seeing the pain etched into his face. I remember how desperately he was calling out for his brother in the museum in Rome. “I’m sorry about Ezra.”
He stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I don’t need your sympathy, Leah. All I need is for you to give the performance of your life.” He reaches into his pocket and sets a box on the table before me. “Here. Yours.”
And with that, he walks away, leaving me alone at the table. I finish my glass of water and open the box.
It’s an engagement ring with a diamond as big as my knuckle. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit, but it’s really freaking huge and must’ve cost a fortune. As I slide the ring onto my finger, I wonder why he’s spending so much on something so fake. I raise my hand and stare at the ring.
I can’t wait for the four months to be up.