12. Silas
Chapter twelve
Silas
“You didn’t get any sleep last night?” Leah asks me as I squint at her.
“What?”
“Your eyes are bloodred. And frankly, you look like shit.”
I frown. “Just focus on the game, Leah.”
I watch the game, pretending to care about the rules I just explained to her. But my mind keeps wandering to last night. She’s right. I didn’t get much sleep last night.
That nightmare again. I hate that it won’t let go of me. I can still feel the weight of my brother’s hand slipping through my grasp as I failed to save him.
The dream is always the same. His eyes, full of betrayal and fear, right before he disappears into the open earth. My heart pounds just thinking about it. But I push it down, forcing my attention back to Caleb on the field.
He’s in the middle of some chaotic cluster of boys, darting between legs like the game is his playground. His eyes scan the field, his focus sharp, and when he finally makes contact with us, his face lights up.
Caleb waves wildly, and my heart lightens.
Leah’s beside me, still cheering like a complete amateur. “Go! Uh, pass! There’s a pass coming your way!” Her voice is so loud it startles me out of my thoughts. “That’s called a pass, right?” she asks me.
I chuckle, amused by how out of her depth she is. “Yeah, you called it right.” There’s something oddly charming about watching her flail through soccer terminology.
“See?” She shoots me a look, her grin wide. “I know things. I’m not just here for moral support.”
I glance at her. And for a second, my mind goes somewhere it shouldn’t. It’s that jean skirt she’s wearing. They hug her curves so perfectly, it’s almost distracting. No, it is distracting. Damn it, Silas, focus on the game.
But I can’t shake the thought.
“Where did you get the jersey?” I ask, my eyes raking over her Arsenal jersey. “I didn’t take you for a soccer fan.”
“A friend.” She doesn’t look at me as she answers.
A friend? A male friend? I want to ask, but I keep my lips sealed as I watch my son dance past one of the defenders and fire the ball over the goalpost.
Four months of this . Four months pretending that Leah Grayson is my fiancée . I want to say I’m only doing it for Caleb and the Caldwell deal, but I know better. There’s more to it. Something I’m not ready to face just yet.
Ezra crosses my mind again, but I try to shake him off.
Caleb catches the ball and makes a quick pass to his teammate. And then, boom! He scores.
Leah and I are on our feet at the same time, both cheering like idiots. “That’s my boy!” I yell, throwing my fist in the air.
Leah’s screaming right beside me. And for a moment, we’re in sync, celebrating together. I glance at her, and it hits me. This. This feeling right here. With Caleb scoring and Leah by my side. It feels good. Almost too good.
I catch her looking at me, her face bright with excitement, and for a split second, there’s a connection between us. Something that’s not just about the game or Caleb. It’s more.
“You’re giving one hell of a performance,” I murmur.
She throws me a look, her dark hair blowing into her face. “I’m not performing. I’m genuinely having a good time watching Caleb.”
“If you say so.” I shrug, straightening my white shirt.
As the cheering dies down, we settle back into our seats. Leah’s smile disappears, and she looks deep in thought. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see that she’s tense like there’s something she’d rather not say, but she wants to.
“Just ask.”
She frowns. “What?”
“There’s something on your mind, I can tell.” We lock eyes. “You may as well ask.”
She pouts, takes a deep breath, and asks, “Why don’t you ever talk about your brother?” Her question catches me off guard, but before I can decide whether to answer, she follows up with, “And why aren’t you married? I mean, you’re,” I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish that sentence. She clears her throat, stumbling over her words before finally blurting out, “middle-aged?”
I frown. “Middle-aged? Really?”
She smirks, clearly pleased with herself. “I mean, I didn’t want to say old man. ”
I shake my head. “I’ll have you know, fifty-two is not middle-aged. It’s . . . seasoned .”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a spark of something more behind her teasing. “Fine, seasoned man. But seriously, why didn’t you ever settle down?”
“Why do you hate your father so much?” I ask before I can stop myself. It’s a question that’s been nagging at me since we started this whole arrangement.
“Isn’t he your best friend? He never told you why I can’t stand him?”
“No.” I shake my head. “If he did, I wouldn’t be asking you. Hell, I don’t think he knows.”
“Oh, trust me, he knows.” Her lips press into a thin line.
“So . . . ?”
She hesitates, a frown appearing slightly. “That’s a big question for a soccer game, don’t you think?”
I shrug. “We’ve got time.”
She lets out a sigh, leaning back against the bleacher. “I hate him because I blame him for my mom’s death.”
I frown. “I thought she died in an accident?”
“She did. But,” her voice trails off, and I can see the pain in her eyes, even if she’s trying to hide it. “It’s complicated.”
I want to ask more. But before I can, she bends down to grab her soda from the ground.
Then, out of nowhere, a sudden commotion occurs. The guy sitting next to Leah bumps into her. And in a split second, her soda spills all over her shirt.
“Shit!” She jumps up, her face scrunched in annoyance as she looks down at the mess. Her jersey is soaked, clinging to her skin in a way that’s probably uncomfortable for her.
This is doing nothing for my self-control.
“Dude!” The bald man raises a hand. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I—"
“I’ve got a spare shirt in the car,” I cut him off, already standing. “Come on.”
She nods, clearly annoyed, and follows me to the parking lot. The sun’s setting down, and everywhere has that golden tint that comes with dusk. The air is chilly, and Leah’s folding her arms across her breasts to protect herself. I try not to stare.
We get to the car, and I hand her the shirt from the trunk. “I’ll wait out here.”
“Thanks,” she mutters, slipping into the car to change.
I drove us over to the school, so there’s no driver to be wary of.
I stand there, hands in my pockets, trying to be a gentleman, but the door is slightly ajar, and I can’t help but catch a glimpse. Her bra comes off first. And for a split second, I see her bare skin. Her modest breasts and pink, hard nipples.
My body reacts before my brain can catch up. I quickly turn around, clenching my fists, willing the image out of my head. But it’s too late.
Fuck.
I’ve got a situation in my pants that’s getting harder, literally, to ignore. I squeeze my eyes shut, muttering to myself like an idiot.
Think of something else. Think of the game. The nightmare. Literally anything besides the fact that Leah’s half-naked in my car.
Goddamn it, Silas.
When she steps out of the car, wearing my white T-shirt that’s too big for her, the tension between us is so thick I can practically taste it.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her brown eyes innocent.
I feel like a pervert. “Yeah, I’m great.”
Her eyes flick down to my pants, and I swear she blushes before quickly looking away. We head back to the game, both of us pretending nothing happened. But something did. And it’s going to be impossible to ignore.
The game ends, and on our way home, Caleb is chattering away in the backseat. “I didn’t know you were going to be there!”
“You were sensational!” Leah exclaims. “When you sent the keeper the wrong way with that feint, I thought I was watching Messi!”
“You know Messi?” Caleb’s eyes widen. “That’s my idol.”
“Ouch.” I clasp my heart like I’ve been shot.
“Know Messi?” Leah chuckles. “I love Messi!”
I glance at Leah and see her smiling at him through the rear mirror, her eyes soft. For the first time in a while, Caleb’s animated, talking non-stop about the other team, the goal he scored, everything.
It’s like the clouds hanging over him for months have finally cleared.
I glance at Leah, and she meets my eyes, smiling, too, clearly enjoying the moment. There’s something about seeing Caleb like this that makes everything worth it.
But then I do the thing I probably should’ve planned out more carefully.
“Caleb,” I say, keeping my voice casual. “Leah and I have something to tell you.”
He looks up from his excited, rambling, curious. “What is it?”
“I’m just going to come out with it.” I look at Leah, who’s shaking her head. “We’re engaged,” I say, not giving myself time to second-guess.
He blinks at us, clearly surprised. “Wait, what? Like, really engaged?”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Engaged.”
Leah holds up her hand, showing him the ring, and Caleb’s eyes widen. He stares at it for a moment before looking back at us, bemused but not upset.
“Well . . . okay,” he says, finally. “That’s cool, I guess.”
And just like that, it’s done.
Later, when we arrive at Arconia, Caleb leaves us to rush to the penthouse, looking for food. Which means Leah and I have the car to ourselvess. The silence between us charged with something I can’t name. We’ve spent all day playing this game, pretending to be something we’re not, and I’m starting to feel the weight of it.
“He’s a great kid,” Leah says, her hands on her thighs. Her pale skin’s porcelain-smooth in the soft car lights.
“Yeah,” I agree. “He has his troubles. But what teenager doesn’t, right?”
“He doesn’t seem difficult, to be honest.” Leah glances at me. “I think he just wants you to be more present in his life. That’s all a kid wants, you know?”
The way she says that last statement makes me feel she’s no longer talking about Caleb. But I don’t push. Harvey has never struck me as the be-there-for-your-kid Dad, but I can’t blame him when my own kid barely likes me.
“Today was a good day,” I murmur.
Leah nods. “You already leaked your engagement to the press, yeah? I saw the news on TikTok.”
“I don’t know how your generation sees things like TikTok as a reliable source of information.” I shake my head.
“You’re showing your age, old man.” Leah smirks. “But you already did, right?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Like I told you, I made sure your identity wasn’t revealed. All that’s there is the reclusive billionaire CEO of Monarch Tech is getting married. ”
“It’s fun to see people speculate who you might be getting married to, when the truth is this is all a sham, and no one’s getting married.” She draws a circle on her thigh with her index finger.
“Yeah, that’s right.” I watch her finger. “A sham.”
The sky’s getting darker, and the city lights flicker as we drive through the streets. The tension between us is palpable, thick in the air. Every time I glance at her, the memory of seeing her half-naked comes flooding back, and I know she’s thinking about it, too.
“That’s all this is, right?” she asks.
I look at her, but she’s looking out the window. “Yes. That’s all this is.”
But then she looks at me, and everything changes. There’s heat in her eyes, something simmering just below the surface, and before I can think, I’m kissing her.
It’s not a soft kiss. It’s desperate. Hungry. The kind of kiss that’s been building for days.
She tastes like soda and something sweet, and it’s driving me wild. My hands move to her waist, pulling her closer, and I feel her breath hitch. Her fingers dig into my chest, and the heat between us is unbearable and overwhelming.
My hands are in her hair, her fingers gripping the front of my shirt, pulling me closer. The space between us feels too small, and all I want is more.
I move my hand to her thigh, squeezing, and she gasps against my lips, her body arching toward mine. There’s a fire between us, one that’s been there since the beginning. And now it’s blazing out of control.
Her hands slide down my chest, fumbling with the buttons of my shirt, and I know I should stop this. We’re in the car, for God’s sake. But I can’t think straight. Not with her in my hands like this.
Her lips leave mine, trailing along my jaw, and I can’t stop the groan that slips out.
“We can’t,” she whispers against my skin, but her hands are still clutching at me, her body arching into mine.
“We can,” I growl, my voice rough, dragging her mouth back to mine.
We almost rip each other’s clothes off right there, and I’m not even sure how we stop ourselves. Maybe it’s how she pulls back, breathless and flushed, looking at me like she’s torn between wanting this and knowing she shouldn’t.
I reach for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up, needing to feel her skin. But then she pulls back, her breathing ragged. “We can’t,” she says, her voice shaky. “This . . . this wasn’t part of the deal.”
I’m breathing hard, too, my head spinning. “I know. But—”
“But it can’t happen again,” she says, cutting me off. “We agreed. This is supposed to be just business.”
I nod, trying to get my breathing under control. “You’re right. No relationships. Just the deal.”
She adjusts her shirt, her face flushed, and her breathing ragged. The hardness between my legs is almost hurting. But I try to focus on anything but that.
“Can I drop you off at home?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“No, it’s fine,” she says quickly. “I’m meeting a friend at a bar.”
I frown, surprised by the sudden rush of jealousy. “The same friend who gave you the jersey?”
She nods. “Yeah. Penny. She’s my roommate.”
She. The relief that floods me surprises me.
“Thanks for today. I had fun.” She opens the car door, steps off, and gives me a smile before she leaves. Next thing I know, I’m watching her flag a taxi. I gaze at it from a distance as it gets further and further, disappearing into the sea of vehicles.
I wait in the car till my hardness goes away. As I meet my eyes in the rear mirror, the eye bags under my eyes surprise me. As I head inside Arconia, one thought keeps circling in my mind:
This was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be easy.
So why the hell do I care so much?