18. Silas
Chapter eighteen
Silas
I hate it here.
That’s the first thought that crosses my mind as I step into the dining room of the Caldwell Estate. The place is too grand, too pristine, with its chandeliers hanging like crystal spiders above a table long enough to seat a small army.
When we arrived, the rest of the Caldwells weren’t around, so we’d spent most of the day in the giant suite Emma had set us up in. Now, everyone’s back, and it’s time for dinner.
“Is it just me, or are the dead people in these portraits staring at us judgmentally?” Leah asks with her hand in mine.
“Right?”
“Always being here must feel like living in a museum.” Her gaze flies across the walls covered in Caldwell portraits. “How do they do it?”
“They’re old money.” I shrug. “This is all they’ve ever known.”
The whole place smells like wealth—leather, polished wood, and old money. Introductions ensue, and I can feel the quiet assessment of their eyes on Leah.
Leah’s playing her part well beside me. She's in this sleek black dress that hugs her figure, subtle but elegant, with her hair pinned back in a way that exposes the delicate curve of her neck. She looks stunning. Too good, actually. It almost makes me forget this entire dinner is an act.
“I trust you had a great rest?” Henry Caldwell barks as Leah and I take our seats.
“It was pleasant.” I nod, settling into my seat.
He’s seated at the head of the table, his eyes sharp despite the frailty of his body. He’s not looking great—pale, skin stretched thin over his bones, but there’s a fire in his gaze that’s hard to miss. Elizabeth, his wife, sits beside him, a hawk in designer clothing, her lips permanently curled into a skeptical smile.
“How are you liking London so far, Leah?” Elizabeth asks, resting her face on her interlocked hands. “Do I have that right?”
“Yes, Mrs. Caldwell.” Leah shifts in her seat. “But I feel like I haven’t really seen enough of the city to make an assessment.”
I hold her hand on the table for all to see, and she squeezes lightly. The show’s begun, and we need to give the performances of our lives. So far, so good; it’s going well.
“Americans and their terrible habit of staying in their country all their lives.” She practically hisses. “You people refuse to see the world, believing the sun rises and sets in your country.”
“Actually, Silas and I met in Rome,” Leah says, a small, satisfied smile on her lips.
“Is that so?” Kane asks, glancing at his mother as if to say, see?
Kane Caldwell, their son and my friend, sits across from me, sharp as a tack in his navy suit. I wonder where his wife, Tamara, is. Even their kids are polished. Hazel, their baby, is in a high chair, and Dylan, the elder one, is already deep in conversation with Caleb, my son, who looks more at ease than I’ve seen him in weeks.
Good for him.
Too bad I feel like I’m walking on a tightrope. And at any moment, Henry will shake the wire just to see if I fall.
“Yeah.” Leah flashes a smile at him. “You don’t have a British accent.”
“I spent most of my adult life in the States,” Kane says.
I know Leah knows that. Kane’s something of a mini-celebrity in America. She just wants to keep him talking, which is a good tactic. But Kane isn’t who we have to worry about.
It’s his parents.
Before we can continue the conversation, Tamara walks in. “I’m so sorry, I’m late. The auction ran behind schedule.” She walks over to Kane and kisses him on the cheek, and I see my friend’s face soften immediately.
“We were waiting for you.” Elizabeth doesn’t look pleased.
“My apologies.” She glances up at us, her brown eyes brightening as she smiles. “It’s wonderful to meet you guys.”
I shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you finally, Tamara.”
“Kane’s told me a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope?”
She chuckles and then turns to Leah. “That’s a beautiful dress, Leah. Yeah, I know your name,” Tamara says, stretching a hand across the table. “I’m Tamara Caldwell.”
“Another American.” Leah beams, shaking her hand.
“Can we get started on dinner?” Elizabeth cuts in, her nose turned up.
The meal’s brought out, and almost immediately after eating, the interrogation begins. Henry, despite his condition, doesn’t waste any time. He’s been holding onto his company with an iron grip, refusing to let Kane take over until he’s damn sure everything’s in order.
And now, apparently, that includes me.
"Quite the sudden engagement," Henry says, his voice gravelly but sharp. "I didn’t even hear a whisper of it until recently."
I meet his gaze, unflinching. "We wanted to keep it private," I say smoothly. "Leah and I prefer things to be personal, not a public spectacle."
Elizabeth scoffs. "That’s hard to believe when you’re parading her like a trophy."
Leah stiffens next to me, but she stays quiet. I can feel her tension, the way she grips her napkin a little too tightly. I reach under the table and squeeze her knee. It's subtle, but it’s enough to let her know I’ve got this.
"Leah isn’t a trophy," I say, keeping my voice even. "She’s the woman I love. And if that’s hard to believe because you haven’t seen it splashed across tabloids, well, maybe that says more about your assumptions than it does about us."
Kane leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching the exchange with a slight smirk. Tamara looks mildly uncomfortable, her gaze flickering between her husband and in-laws. And then there's Emma, who’s been mostly silent, tapping away on her phone, but I can feel her eyes on us. I’m not sure I like her.
Henry narrows his eyes. "This marriage. It wouldn’t have anything to do with buying my company, would it?"
There it is.
He doesn’t even dance around the accusation. He’s got that look in his eye, the same one I’ve seen a hundred times from men in his position. He’s trying to determine if I’m here for love or leverage.
I lean forward, resting my arms on the table. "Let’s not kid ourselves, Henry. The business is important, but so is Leah. I wouldn’t marry someone just for a deal."
Leah jumps in, finding her voice. "I’m sorry, but that’s ridiculous. I love Silas more than anything." Her voice has an edge, as if challenging them to tell her she’s wrong. "He’s been there for me in ways you can’t imagine. For him, for Caleb, I’d do anything."
Elizabeth's eyes narrow to slits. "How much is he paying you to say that?"
Leah stiffens, and before I can stop myself, I’m on my feet. The chair scrapes loudly against the marble floor, and the room falls into a tense silence. Caleb and Dylan stop talking, their eyes flicking to me. Kane uncrosses his arms, his eyes narrowing.
"Enough," my voice cuts through the silence. "I’m not going to sit here and let you disrespect my fiancée. You want to question the deal? Fine. But Leah? She’s off-limits."
The room feels like it’s holding its breath. Even Caleb is looking at me like he’s not sure what’s happening. Hell, I’m not even sure what’s happening. Am I still acting, or am I genuinely pissed that they’re talking shit about Leah? I can’t tell anymore.
Maybe it’s both.
Henry watches me carefully; then, a slow smile spreads. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but it’s there.
"Well," he says, "at least you’ve got some backbone." He pushes back his chair, standing slowly, his movements stiff and labored. "I think I’ll retire for the evening," he announces. "This old man needs his rest. We’ll talk more about the deal later, Mr. Waverly."
Elizabeth also stands, giving Leah one last piercing look before following her husband out of the dining room. Emma slips out, too, muttering something about a phone call. Kane watches them leave, then turns to me with a raised eyebrow.
"That was . . . bold," he says.
"I don’t appreciate being tested," I reply, sitting back down, though my pulse is still racing. "And I definitely don’t appreciate them going after Leah."
Kane chuckles softly, shaking his head. "You did good, standing up for her. My parents can be difficult, but they respect strength."
“That was rude.” Leah rests her elbows on the table. “Really rude.”
“I’m sorry about them.” Kane presses his lips together. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
"Tamara," Leah says suddenly, her voice bright and forced. "Would you mind showing me the grounds? I’d love to see more of the estate."
Tamara blinks in surprise but quickly recovers, smiling warmly. "Of course. Come with me."
I watch as Leah stands, smoothing down her dress, and follows Tamara out of the dining room. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve missed something. Some shift in her mood, some sign that she’s not as okay with this charade as she pretends to be.
Kane stands as well, motioning for me to follow him. "Let’s have a drink in the study," he suggests.
I follow him out of the dining room, trying to push aside the nagging feeling that this dinner didn’t go nearly as well as I hoped. The study is just as grand as the rest of the estate, with dark wood paneling, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and a bourbon decanter on the desk.
Kane pours two glasses and hands one to me.
"Look," he says after a long sip, "I know this is a business deal, but my father’s health is failing fast. He’ll have to step down soon. And when that happens, I’ll honor our agreement. The company will be yours."
I sip the bourbon, letting it burn down my throat. "Who else is bidding?"
Kane shrugs. "I’m not sure, but whoever it is, they’re not as close as you. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and the company’s yours."
I nod, but I can’t shake the unease creeping up my spine. Something about this deal doesn’t sit right with me. Maybe it’s the way Henry looked at me, or perhaps it’s the fact that I’m not sure where the line between business and personal begins anymore.
It’s all so fucking complicated.
Later, back in the massive bedroom we’ve been given, I find Caleb playing cards with Leah. They’re both laughing, their heads bent together. And for a moment, I just watch them. It’s a simple scene, but something about it makes the events of the evening more bearable.
I join them, and we play cards until Caleb gets tired and goes to bed. It’s quiet after that, just Leah and me sitting on the bed, the weight of the evening settling over us.
"Are you okay?" I ask her.
She nods, but she doesn’t meet my eyes. "Yeah. Just tired."
“I’m sorry about them.”
“Don’t be.” She touches my cheek. “We can do this. I know we can.”
“The sooner we do this, the sooner you won’t have to be in situations like this anymore.”
“Mhmm.”
I don’t push her. I should, but I don’t. I’m unsure if I want to hear the answers to the questions or think about the feelings swirling in my head. Like whether or not she’s still using me to get back at her father. Or worse. Whether I’m falling for her. Because if I am, this whole thing just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
And I don’t know if I’m ready for that.