Forbidden Grumpy Boss (Damaged Daddies #2)

17. Leah

Chapter seventeen

Leah

Of course, the one time I’m pretending to be engaged, the world suddenly cares.

I watch through the tinted window as Silas’s car pulls up to the private airfield, the usual small crowd of paparazzi already camped out like vultures on the hunt. Their cameras flash, reflecting off the dark tint, and I shift in my seat, pulling my scarf tighter around my neck.

I don't like attention. Especially this kind. They’re not here for Silas—not really. It’s me, the mysterious fiancée of Silas Waverly. The one nobody’s seen.

Beside me, Silas glances at the commotion, his eyes narrowing for a brief second before his features tighten. "They must be here for you. Not every day, the press gets wind of my supposed bride-to-be."

"Supposed?" I arch an eyebrow, knowing full well what this fake engagement means. I pull my sunglasses down a bit, catching his sharp blue eyes. “How the hell did they even know you were going to London?”

“They have their ways.”

“God, I hate them.” I glance out the window. “I hate them so damn much.”

He chuckles softly, leaning back in his seat. “Don’t worry. They have no idea who you are, especially with that,” he gestures to my long coat, oversized sunglasses, and scarf, “disguise you’ve got going on.”

I roll my eyes but keep quiet.

The press doesn’t need to know who I am. Not yet, at least. That would open a whole can of worms I’m not ready for. Or maybe I’ll never be ready for it.

“You ready, Caleb?” Silas asks his son, who hasn’t looked up from his game.

“Uh-huh.”

“Use your words, son.”

“I’m ready, Dad.” He rolls his eyes.

“Remember what I told you?”

“Keep my eyes ahead and don’t make eye contact with the photographers.”

Silas gives him a thumbs up, but Caleb doesn’t notice. I look out the window again. I hate this. I hate this so much.

The car slows to a stop near the jet, and I glance out the window again, eyeing the sleek, gleaming white aircraft—Silas’s jet.

“Come on,” Silas says, breaking me from my thoughts as he opens the door and steps out. Caleb follows right behind, nose buried in his phone. He has his dad's striking blue eyes but with no interest in the world around him. Just the screen in front of him.

I take a deep breath and adjust my scarf before stepping out, immediately hit by the crisp coolness of the evening. Cameras flash even more now, though the tinted windows and my sunglasses keep me relatively anonymous. For now.

Silas offers me his arm, and I take it. Not because I need it, but because I know we’re putting on a show. For the cameras. For the world.

I keep my head low as we make our way to the jet. Silas’s holding me and Caleb, leading us to the jet. Questions are being fired from all angles, but we remain silent.

“You don’t get nervous flying, do you?” he murmurs as we approach the stairs leading up to the jet.

“Please.” I keep my voice steady, but inside, my stomach twists. He has no idea. Flying’s never been my thing.

But I don’t tell him that.

I don’t tell him that whenever a plane lifts off, my mind spirals back to memories of flying with my mom in Dad’s jet—her holding my hand when I was younger, calming me when the turbulence hit. Those moments are etched into me, the only solace in the air.

And now? Now, I’m alone in that.

We step inside the aircraft. Of course, it screams wealth; leather seats, polished interiors, gold accents. The kind of plane that makes you feel like you should apologize just for walking on board. It's like stepping into a magazine spread for the ultra-elite, which I am, even though sometimes, I forget that.

Caleb finds his seat near the front, already settling in with his game, while Silas and I take our places further back, the large, plush leather seats more like thrones than anything you’d expect on a plane.

“You okay?”

I nod. “I’m good.”

I let my hand trail over the armrest, trying to focus on anything other than that we’ll be hurtling through the air soon enough. Silas’s presence beside me is comforting in a way I didn’t expect. I shouldn’t find it comforting. I shouldn’t be leaning on him for any sort of stability.

But then the engines roar to life, and my heart skips a beat. My hand grips the armrest a little too tightly.

The plane lurches forward, picking up speed as it races down the runway. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself not to think about it, not to panic. The memories of my mom flood back again. The way she used to calm me when the fear bubbled up.

And then I feel it. Silas’s hand covering mine. Warm, steady, grounding.

I glance at him, my sunglasses sliding just enough to meet his gaze. He says nothing, just holds my hand as the plane lifts off, the ground falling away beneath us.

I don’t say thank you. But I don’t pull my hand away, either.

The flight is quiet for the most part. Caleb is absorbed in his game, barely even looking up as we soar through the clouds. Silas and I sit side-by-side in silence, the hum of the engines the only thing between us.

But then, Silas turns to me, his face unreadable. “Leah,” he says softly, “We need to talk.”

Is this about the engagement and the complications of us being physical? I don’t want to talk about that. “About what?”

“Your father.”

I stiffen instantly. I don’t want to talk about that either. “No.”

“You can’t keep the man shut out, Leah.”

“I can,” I snap, turning to look out the window, watching the sky stretch endlessly beyond us.

Silas doesn’t let up. “Leah, look, you’re torturing him. And it’s—”

“It’s what he deserves.” The words come out before I can stop them, sharp and cold. “It’s what he fucking deserves.”

Silas blinks, taken aback.

He wasn’t expecting that. Hell, I wasn’t expecting that either. I looked in Caleb’s direction to ensure he didn’t hear me curse. He didn’t.

I exhale slowly, trying to reel myself in, but it’s too late. The floodgates are open. “My life is a mess because of him, Silas. Don’t you get that? He ruined everything!”

Silas remains as still as a stone marble; he doesn’t interrupt.

I feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, and I hate it. I hate that I’m letting him see this, letting him see just how much my father gets under my skin. But I can’t stop it now.

“Harvey Grayson is a piece of shit.” I wipe the prickling tears away. “Mom . . . she was everything to me, and he was everything to her. She loved him so damn much, and he just threw it all away. He cheated repeatedly. And each time, he begged until she took him back. Do you know what that does to a person?” Silas doesn’t speak. “To a person’s self-worth?” I clench a fist. “He chipped away at her until the happy woman I knew was reduced to a depressed, soulless husk.”

“Jesus, Leah.”

I laugh, but to my ears, it sounds dry, witless. “That’s what she was before she finally left. Depressed. And she only left because she knew if she stayed around him, she wasn’t strong enough to withstand his incessant plea, but she had had enough.”

I swallow hard, the words feeling like razor blades in my throat. “And then she died in an accident in a foreign country. Alone. Trying to escape him.”

Silas doesn’t say anything for a long moment. His hand is still on mine, a silent gesture of comfort. But I’m not looking for comfort. Not now.

“He didn’t even wait,” I continue, my voice thick. “He got engaged to the last woman he cheated with before mom was cold. But we all know how that went, too. How the hell is he your best friend if you don’t even know these things about him?”

“We met four years ago, remember?” Silas avoids my eyes.

The tears finally spill over, and I hate it. I hate showing this much of myself. I usually don’t cry, I don’t break down. But here I am, cracking open in front of the one person I shouldn’t be vulnerable with.

“I’m not talking about him anymore,” I say, my voice shaky.

Silas gives me a long look before nodding. “Alright. I won’t bring it up again.”

We sit in silence after that, the weight of everything I’ve just said settling between us. I wipe away the tears, composing myself, and take a sip of the juice the flight attendant has brought over. Silas does the same, though I can tell he’s still thinking about what I said.

I need to talk about something else. Anything else.

“What should I expect from the Caldwells?”

Silas nods like he understands why I’m changing the subject. “They’re . . . moral. Or at least they present themselves that way. Also, Henry Caldwell is a bit of an asshole, so he’ll come at you.”

“I’m used to dealing with assholes.”

He studies me for a moment. “Leah, the deal with the Caldwell family has to be a success.”

I nod, my mind shifting gears. Right. The reason we’re even doing this.

“If they believe we’re really engaged, we win. So, I need us on our A-game.”

“I know.”

There’s so much riding on this deal, and it’s all on us—or more specifically, me—to convince the Caldwells we’re a real couple.

I’m not sure I can pull it off.

By the time we land in London, my nerves are shot. The press is already waiting on the tarmac, cameras flashing again as Caleb bounds out of the plane, and we follow behind him. But before the press can swarm us, a sleek black limo pulls up, the doors opening as we approach.

Inside, I’m greeted by the calm, polished face of Emma Caldwell, all sharp edges and assessing eyes. I noticed she looked prettier in the pictures I saw online.

I’d spent the previous night on the flight googling the Caldwells after Silas slept. To say they were conservative would be an understatement. I wasn’t looking forward to a weekend on their grounds.

“Welcome,” she says smoothly, her gaze flicking between Silas and me. “The family’s really excited to meet you both.”

I nod, trying to smile, but my mind is racing. I can’t afford to mess this up. I have to be the perfect fiancée. The loving partner. The one who makes Silas look good.

But as the car pulls away from the airfield, and we head to the Caldwell Estate, I can’t shake the feeling of doubt creeping in.

Can I really do this?