19. Leah
Chapter nineteen
Leah
Waking up to Caleb’s smiling face feels like being startled by the sun, blinding and sudden. “Dad’s waiting for us outside. He said that you need a thick coat,” he says, bouncing on his toes like it’s Christmas morning.
“I didn’t know you’re a morning person,” I mumble.
I groan, rubbing my eyes as the memories of yesterday flash in—the soap opera dinner and playing cards with Caleb and Silas. I don’t know how to feel about it.
Caleb chuckles. “You need to get out of bed, Leah.”
I blink, still groggy, and glance at the clock on the nightstand. It's too early for his energy, but there’s something infectious about it. “A thick coat? Is it freezing in London?” I rub my eyes.
“Not London. Just hurry,” Caleb insists, practically dragging me out of bed enthusiastically. I chuckle, but a hint of suspicion worms its way into my brain.
Not London? What does that even mean?
I take a quick shower, dress, and follow Caleb. Outside, I’m greeted by something I absolutely did not expect: a small plane sitting in a clearing, its sleek body gleaming under the pale morning light. And there’s Silas, leaning casually against the wing, looking too pleased with himself.
Not another plane.
Silas is wearing a dark coat, expensive-looking, of course, and a scarf that makes him look like he stepped out of a luxury ad. His dark hair, now streaked with distinguished silver at the temples, ruffles in the wind. His blue eyes are alive with mischief when they lock onto mine.
“Good morning,” he says, his deep voice warm and smooth, instantly cutting through the chilly air.
He’s effortlessly handsome in his coat and scarf, the kind of man who doesn’t need to try. And I hate that he makes it look so easy.
“What’s this?” I ask, my voice shaky with confusion as I glance at the plane. “Please, don’t tell me you’re planning to fly us somewhere.”
“You caught me.” He grins, pushing off the wing and coming toward me. “I noticed you were a bit tense on the flight yesterday, and I figured it’s about time we face that fear head-on.”
“Whose plane is this?”
“Kane’s.”
I laugh nervously, shaking my head. “I’m good, Silas. Really.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Oh, we’re doing this.”
Caleb stands by, bouncing on his heels, AirPods in his ears. “It’s gonna be awesome, Leah. Dad’s a great pilot.”
“Wait. Where’s the actual pilot?” I ask, suddenly noticing the distinct lack of a person in the cockpit. My heart races as my eyes dart from Silas to the plane and back.
Silas chuckles, his lips curling into a devilish smile. “You’re looking at him.”
"I’m good ," I say quickly, holding up my hands like he’s about to drag me into the cockpit physically. “No need . . . Whatever this is.”
His grin deepens. "Oh, we’re definitely doing this."
I narrow my eyes and shift closer to him to whisper. "Is this for the Caldwells? Some show you’re putting on?"
"It’s for you," he says, his voice softer now. "Only you."
And just like that, doubt crawls in again. It’s always there, lurking. Does he mean it, or is this just another part of the Silas Waverly show? The charming, doting fiancé, the man he wants everyone to believe he is.
“No, no, no, no.” I start backing away, shaking my head. Flying commercial is one thing, but trusting Silas—who is not a professional pilot, no matter how many certificates he has—with my life in an aluminum can is quite another.
“Come on, Leah,” Caleb says, laughing like this is the best joke he’s ever heard. “Dad’s been flying forever. You’ll be safe.”
“Listen to the kid, Leah.”
Caleb and Silas share a smile, and I realize that’s a rare sight. Despite my unease, it warms my heart. This is why I’m doing this. The fake engagement. For Caleb.
Silas steps closer, his hand resting on my shoulder, and I can’t help but feel that familiar tug in my chest. Damn him and his confidence. “You trust me, don’t you?”
It’s unfair when he looks at me like that. His eyes sexy, his voice low and reassuring.
I glance at the tiny plane again, my palms sweating despite the cold. But Silas . . . Silas exudes so much calmness, so much control. I trust him. Against my better judgment, I trust him. Fuck.
I let out a breath. “Alright, fine,” I mutter, giving in. “But if we crash, I’m haunting you forever.”
His smile widens. “Deal.”
Before I can think too hard, I find myself strapped into the co-pilot seat, my heart pounding as Silas goes through the pre-flight checks like he’s done this a thousand times before. Caleb is in the back, strapping himself into his seat.
“By the way,” I say, turning to Silas once I’m finally calm enough to speak, “where are we flying to?”
He glances over at me, smirking. “You like ice cream, don’t you?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Well,” he says, his voice as nonchalant as ever, “I thought we’d pop over to Paris for some Berthillon.”
I blink, speechless for a second. “You’re flying us to Paris for ice cream?”
“You make it sound like that’s a crazy thing.” He laughs.
“It is!” I almost yell, and Caleb chuckles at my hysteria.
Paris. For ice cream. The man is ridiculous. But the idea of it, of us flying to Paris, feels oddly romantic.
The plane lifts off, and I feel my heart lurch in my chest. “This is such a bad idea!” I mutter. “Why can’t we grab ice cream in the city like normal people? Oh my God, I’m going to die for some shitty ice cream.”
“You’re not gonna die.” Silas chuckles.
“Sorry, Caleb.” I wave a hand behind my head. I shouldn’t have sworn.
“Just breathe, Leah,” he says, his voice smooth, like velvet over steel, as the plane glides. “You’re safe.”
And somehow, I do feel safe. He’s right there, piloting with such ease. Caleb’s laughter from the back seat helps, too, reminding me that this is meant to be fun.
“Just focus on the clouds.” He looks ahead. “Focus on the beautiful blue clouds and lose yourself in the moment, Leah. This is no different from driving a car.”
“I can pop out of a car anytime, Silas.” I roll my eyes. “Can I do that on a plane?”
“You do know the chances of a person dying in an accident are higher in a car than in a plane, right?’
“I really, really don’t care about statistics, Silas.”
Bantering with him temporarily makes me forget my fears, and by the time I notice what’s happening, I’m not really acutely aware of being thousands of feet in the air anymore.
The flight passed quicker than I expected. Paris emerges beneath us, a sprawling city with the Eiffel Tower spearing the sky like it owns the place. It’s beautiful.
Landing in Paris feels surreal, especially when Silas takes my hand as we walk through the private airfield to the car waiting for us. Caleb is animated, talking about everything he wants to see. But my mind keeps drifting to the fact that Silas planned all this.
For me.
“Alright,” Silas says as we approach Berthillon. “Time for the best ice cream you’ll ever taste.”
The moment I bite into the creamy vanilla scoop, I’m convinced he’s not exaggerating. Caleb’s already wolfing down his cone, while Silas watches me with a soft smile.
"Good?" he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.
I lick a bit of ice cream off my lip. "Incredible. Who knew you had a soft spot for ice cream?”
"I have a soft spot for you," he says casually, making my heart do a backflip.
I can’t help but laugh, trying to keep things light. “You’re smooth, Silas Waverly. Too smooth.”
He shrugs. “I do my best. You make it easy for me, though, darling.” He stretches a spoonful of his ice cream, and I happily lick it.
“Oh my God.” Caleb rolls his eyes. “Can you guys stop?” he asks as we laugh.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of sightseeing, laughter, and more ice cream. It’s like being in a dream, walking through Paris with Silas and Caleb, like we’re some kind of family. But that’s the dangerous part, isn’t it? The way he makes me feel like I belong when I know I shouldn’t.
I mean, for once in my adult life, I don’t feel like an outsider. I feel like I’m part of something real. And it’s terrifying.
By the time we reach the hotel, Caleb is wiped, giving us a sleepy goodnight before heading to his room.
The moment he’s gone, the air shifts. Silas uncorks a bottle of red wine, pouring us both a glass. I take mine, feeling a flutter in my chest as our fingers brush.
“To today,” he says, holding up his glass.
“To today,” I echo, clinking mine against his. The wine is rich and smooth, but I can only focus on how Silas looks at me, like he’s seen every part of me and still wants more.
We sit by the window overlooking the city, glasses in hand. The tension from earlier melts away, leaving behind a comfortable silence between us.
“Also, to you,” Silas says, raising his glass, “for bringing joy back into Caleb’s life.”
I blink, a little thrown. “I didn’t fly us to Paris.”
“You didn’t have to,” he says, his gaze softening as it locks onto mine. “Caleb wouldn’t have come if it was just me. You’ve changed things, Leah. He’s different now. Happier. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tighten. “Thank you,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks flush. “And thank you for helping me face my fear of flying.”
“Are you over it?”
“I’m not sure it’s that easy.” I chuckle.
“So, I’m hearing we need to take more of these flights.” He nods.
“No!” I burst into laughter. “This was a one-time thing. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you drag me to different countries in that small plane.”
“I have a bigger one back in New York?” He raises a brow.
“You’re not helping matters, Silas.” I shove him playfully.
He smiles. “But really, it isn’t just Caleb who’s happier, Leah.” When I say nothing, he continues. “This,” he points to himself and then to me, “isn’t what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
He tilts his head slightly, his eyes darkening as he changes the subject. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day.”
The air between us thickens. I set my glass down, feeling a rush of heat through my body. “What’s stopping you?”
In a heartbeat, Silas moves closer, his hand cupping my jaw as he presses his lips against mine. It’s slow at first, teasing. But the second I open my mouth to him, it turns into something deeper, more urgent. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his hands move to my waist, gripping me like he never wants to let go.
He tastes sweet like ice cream and intoxicating like wine.
He pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips, “You drive me crazy, Leah, you know that?”
“Good,” I murmur, breathless. “Because it isn’t just you.”
Our clothes fall away with a kind of desperation, fingers fumbling to undo buttons and pull at zippers until there’s nothing between us but skin. He’s hard and warm against me. His hands roam my body like he’s memorizing every curve, every inch of me.
I shiver under his touch, my body aching for more.
“Tell me what you want,” Silas growls into my ear, his breath hot against my skin.
“I want you,” I gasp, arching into him. “I want all of you, Silas.”
He obliges and kisses his way down my body till his lips cover my heat. I thrash against him as he holds my legs, his face buried in my wetness, sending jolts of pleasure through me.
“What are you doing to me, Silas?” Darkness envelops me as his tongue tells me just how much he wants me.
My body tightens, and I can feel my orgasm building. Silas must’ve felt it too because he leaves me, shivering and wanting, and returns his lips to my mouth. I kiss him desperately, tasting myself on his tongue.
“I want you to come with me inside you,” he rasps against my lips.
All I can do is mumble incoherent nonsense as I feel his hardness pressing against me. When he finally enters me, it’s like the world tilts on its axis. My fingers dig into his back, and the sound that escapes my lips is something raw, something I can’t control.
The way he moves inside me is maddening, slow and deliberate at first, but quickly becoming faster, harder.
“Oh my God, Leah,” he groans, his lips grazing my neck. “You feel so damn good.”
Again, I can barely form a coherent thought, let alone words. All I know is the way his body feels against mine, the way every thrust pushes me closer and closer to the edge. I grip his shoulders, biting my lip as the pleasure builds, threatening to consume me.
“I can’t hold—Silas—I’m so close,” I pant, my voice barely a whisper.
“Come for me,” he murmurs, his voice rough and demanding.
And I do. The climax hits me with a force that takes my breath away, my entire body shuddering as I bite back his name. God, he completes me. I don’t want to do this with anyone else: no one else but him.
In the haze of pleasure, the words slip out before I can stop them.
“I love you,” I whisper, my voice trembling and barely audible.
But as the high fades, and we collapse into each other’s arms, reality crashes back down. I feel him still as he lies atop me, but he says nothing. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest.
I just told him I loved him. Jesus Christ. I just told Silas Waverly I loved him. Damn it.
What was I thinking?