Forbidden Grumpy Boss (Damaged Daddies #2)

20. Silas

Chapter twenty

Silas

There’s something perversely ironic about waking up in the City of Love, haunted by nightmares. But here I am, staring at the ornate ceiling of a five-star Parisian hotel, drenched in cold sweat, my mind still clawing its way out of the recurring dream.

My brother. The earthquake. The helplessness.

My brother’s face, panicked and pale, flashes before me just before he disappears under the rubble. I sit up, taking a breath, wiping the sweat off my forehead. The room is dim, but not dark, just how I like it.

Then, I hear her—Leah—her footsteps soft as she steps out of the bathroom.

“Are you up?” she whispers.

She’s wearing a white robe, her hair still slightly damp, brushing against her collarbone. The sight of her should calm me down, and maybe it does a little.

“Good morning,” she says, her voice soft and warm. She leans down, brushing her lips against mine. The taste of mint lingers on her breath.

“Morning,” I murmur back, forcing a smile. I should feel lucky, hell, grateful even, to wake up next to her. But all I can think about is what she whispered last night.

I love you . Three words that made my heart skip a beat.

She thinks I didn’t hear her. But I did. It’s just pretending I didn’t was easier than acknowledging the weight of those words.

She’s also acting like she didn’t say it. I get it. I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. I’m still pretending, which makes me feel like a coward. That’s not me, or at least it didn’t use to be. But things are moving too fast.

Too damn fast.

“Did you sleep well?” she asks, tying the robe tighter around her waist. Her brown eyes search mine, and for a second, I almost want to tell her about the nightmares, about my brother. But I hold back.

I lie through my teeth. “Yeah, like a rock.”

Her lips curve into a smile, but it’s tentative. There’s a tension between us that wasn’t there yesterday.

I know she can sense something’s off, too. I watch her move closer, her fingers brushing against my chest. She’s always being so tactile, touching, and wanting more. I can feel it now as her hands begin to explore me, trailing down my stomach.

“Leah—” I start, but she cuts me off with a kiss, soft at first, then more insistent. Her hand slips lower, grazing my chest and roaming down. I know where this is going.

Not now. I can’t do this now.

“We can’t,” I mutter against her lips, pulling back just enough to stop her.

She looks at me, confusion flickering in her eyes. “What do you mean, ‘we can’t’?”

“I mean, I don’t want to do this.”

“Really? Why?” There’s a slight edge to her voice, and I hate that I’m the cause.

“I’ve got things to do today,” I tell her, running a hand through my hair. “We have to head back to England.”

She smirks. “This won’t take time, I—”

“I don’t want to do this right now, Leah. I have more important things to attend to.”

She sits back, pulling the robe tighter around her body. Her expression shifts, hurt flashing across her face before she looks away. “You can decline, but you don’t have to make me feel unimportant.”

I wince. That wasn’t my intention, but it’s clear I’ve messed up. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I say quickly.

She doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls her legs up, hugging them to her chest. “Why are you being distant, Silas?” she asks quietly. “You’re here, but you’re not here. Did I do something?”

“No, of course not.” I can’t give her the truth. Not now. Not when things are this complicated. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

She doesn’t push, but I can tell she’s not satisfied. And how could she be? I’m not giving her what she needs. I’m not even sure what I’m giving her.

I can’t explain it—not without spilling everything I’ve been running from since we first agreed on this fake engagement. It wasn’t supposed to get this real. Now we’re sleeping together, and she’s saying “I love you” like it won’t ruin us both.

“What is it, Silas?” her eyes searching my face. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“Everything’s fine, okay?”

Leah turns to me, her eyes narrowing slightly, still searching my face for the truth. “Fine.” She stands, tightening the robe around her waist before she moves toward the closet to get dressed. “But one day, Silas, you’re going to have to stop running.”

Her words hang in the air long after she’s gone to pack her things.

When we finally get dressed, her in a light blue sweater and jeans, me in a black turtleneck and my favorite leather jacket, we head to the small airstrip outside Paris. It feels colder today, a bite in the air that wasn’t there yesterday. Caleb’s chatting with Leah about something, his excitement barely contained.

I catch sight of Leah’s face, and I know she’s still upset, even though she’s trying her damnedest to hide it from Caleb.

We board, and although she’s seated next to me, there’s a distance between us now. I can feel it, like an invisible wall that wasn’t there before. Caleb, oblivious, is still on a high from yesterday’s impromptu trip to Paris. He’s already talking about our next adventure, asking how far Japan is from New York, but I’m hardly paying attention.

My mind’s on what Leah said last night. And what I didn’t say back.

The flight back to England is smooth, but my thoughts are anything but that. I also notice that Leah is so annoyed with me that her fear of flying is a complete afterthought for her. Well, that’s one problem solved.

As soon as we land in the Caldwell Estate, Caleb bolts off the plane, eager to find Dylan. I turn to Leah, and for a moment, I think about pulling her into a hug, something to close the gap between us.

But instead, I stuff my hands into my pockets as we head toward the mansion.

“You know the filming for my studio’s movie, Darkest Hour , is ongoing in London, right?” I ask, my voice casual, trying to avoid the conversation that’s clawing at the back of my mind.

“Yeah, I know,” she says, her tone clipped. “Why?”

“Well, I’ve got to head there now. I haven’t been to the London set, and it’d be nice to see how it’s coming along.”

Leah stares at me like she expects me to invite her to come along. When I say nothing, her features grow tighter. “That’s fine.”

“I’ll see you back at the estate later.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she says softly. There’s no accusation in her voice, just sadness. And that’s somehow worse.

She stops walking, staring at me. I press a kiss to her lips, quick and perfunctory, then walk away, forcing myself to focus on the tasks at hand. Business. The movie. Anything but Leah’s whispered I love you.

I can feel her eyes burning into the back of my neck, but I don’t turn around. I can’t. If I look at her, I might break. I might actually tell her the truth—that every second with her terrifies me because I’m falling faster than I ever thought possible.

***

The drive to the set feels longer than it should. I’m restless, my mind jumping between Leah and Darkest Hour . It’s my brother’s dream project, the one thing I promised myself I’d see through after he died. And now it’s finally happening, but I can’t focus on it.

Not fully.

London is bustling when I arrive at the set. The streets hum with life, and the sky is an overcast gray that promises rain but never quite delivers. I can’t wait to be back in New York.

When I arrive on set, it’s a hive of activity. Cameras, crew, actors in military uniforms. It’s chaotic, but in a good way. The kind of chaos that gets things done. I greet the director, Jean Lugard, whose oil-stained jacket and messy hair make him look homeless.

I’m thinking of leaving when I spot Cassian Sterling standing near one of the monitors. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with buzz-cut dark hair that makes him look like a grizzled war veteran. Which, to be fair, he is.

He’s wearing a black tactical jacket and jeans, looking every bit the military consultant I’m sure he’s here to be. The last time I saw Cassian was at my brother’s funeral a few years ago.

I walk up to him, clapping him on the back. “Can I get an autograph, sir?” I say in my best English accent.

Cassian whips around, his brows furrowed. “Who are—”

“Sterling.”

“Silas.” He breaks into a wide smile. “You almost got me.”

Cassian greets me with a firm handshake. His grip is still as strong as ever. We go way back. We met years ago during one of my brother’s crazy escapades in Afghanistan. He was a consultant back then, too, but for real military ops, not movies.

“Shit,” I say, nodding. “It’s been a long time.”

“Too long,” he agrees, clapping me on the back. “How’s life treating you?”

I shrug. “Busy.”

“I haven’t seen you since—”

“Yeah.” I nod, trying not to remember that day but failing. “I didn’t even know you were back in Europe.”

“I got in a few years ago.” He rubs his head. “I don’t know. I got sick of being so far away. It takes a toll, you know? Running from one’s demons.”

I nod, partially understanding what he’s saying. “You’re consulting for movies now?”

Cassian folds his arms across his chest as we stand side-by-side, watching a scene being filmed. “No. But when I heard your studio was releasing a movie based on,” he points, “well, war. I figured I may as well lend my knowledge and let it come out as good as possible.”

“And you didn’t reach out to me?” I glance at him. “I could’ve gotten you a very good pay, Cass. What are they paying you now?”

“Nah, I don’t need the money, Silas.” He waves me off. “I’ve got a little agency going on that gives me more than I need. This is for Ezra, not the money.”

Watching the younger man speak makes me think about my baby brother. He and Cassian are the same age. Or, at least, they’d be the same age if what happened hadn’t happened. The thought of Ezra makes my chest tighten.

“You look good.”

Cassian glances at me. “ You look good, which is completely understandable considering the circumstances.”

“What do you mean?”

He laughs, but there’s something knowing in his eyes. “I heard about the engagement, man,” he says, surprising me.

I blink. “You did?”

“Yeah, I was out of town, man. I wasn’t dead. Even though I loathe social media, I try to keep an eye on things related to those close to me.” He clasps my shoulder. “Congratulations. Leah’s a knockout.”

I freeze. Wait, what? How the hell does he know about Leah? No one’s supposed to know. The whole thing is supposed to be a secret unless...

“Thanks,” I say slowly, trying to figure out how to play this. “When did you hear about this?”

“The engagement?”

“Yeah.”

“Honestly? I can’t remember.” His eyes grow hooded. “I saw her picture a few minutes ago, though.”

“What picture?”

He pulls out his phone, but before I can check his phone, my phone buzzes. Leah’s name flashes across the screen, followed by a series of text messages.

Then Harvey’s name pops up—three missed calls in five minutes.

Shit.

My heart pounds as I open the texts from Leah. My stomach drops when I see the pictures—Emma Caldwell, that meddling lady, snapped a few photos of Leah and me kissing beside the plane, the kiss I tried to brush off.

“Is everything okay, man?” Cassian asks beside me.

“Yeah, I, uh, I’ll be seeing you, Cass.” I shove my phone in my pocket and clasp the younger man’s hand. “We should get together one of these days, yeah?”

“Great seeing you, man.”

As I wander to my car, pulling the collar of my coat up, my mind is racing as my phone vibrates in my pockets. I don’t need to check it to know it’s Harvey calling. I ignore the calls from him, but it’s too late.

The secret’s out.