Forbidden Grumpy Boss (Damaged Daddies #2)

28. Silas

Chapter twenty-eight

Silas

I can feel the tension lifting from Leah’s shoulders when we leave the principal's office. The sky’s shifting to that late-evening purple, the kind of color that makes the world look peaceful.

I’m still fuming, though. Harvey’s playing dirty now, involving Caleb in his grudge match. It’s a low blow.

As I pull out my phone to check the latest reports—more protests outside the studio, great—I notice Leah glancing at me, smiling.

“What’s funny?” I ask, half irritated, half curious.

“That was exhilarating,” she says, grinning wide as if we just pulled off some grand heist instead of convincing a stuffy principal to reconsider suspending my son.

I raise an eyebrow. “You found that exhilarating?”

She nods, still beaming. Her dark hair’s falling loose around her shoulders, and she looks relaxed. The sundress she’s wearing flutters in the cool evening breeze. It’s a soft shade of peach, hugging her body in all the right places, reminding me how young and vibrant she is.

“I haven’t seen you like this in a while,” I admit. “Smiling.”

Her smile softens. “It feels good to put someone in their place. Especially when they deserve it.”

I know she’s thinking about Harvey. Principal Morgan isn’t the mastermind behind this situation; Harvey is. But yeah, she’s right. It feels good to put Harvey in his place.

I chuckle, though it’s a weak attempt to mask my tiredness. We head toward the car, and I look at her more than I should. There’s a question on my mind. I want her to stay the night, but with the scandal still trending and her father actively trying to bury me, I wonder if she’ll want to. No, I’m not going to ask her that. I won’t put her in that position.

“Do you want to stay the night?” The words slip out of my mouth.

Leah’s eyes twinkle—literally. “At your place?”

“I mean, if you want to.” I shrug, stopping by the car.

“I’d love to, yeah.” She smiles brightly at me, and I feel foolish thinking she’d have rejected the offer.

Caleb’s waiting in the backseat, his headphones on, hoodie pulled up like he’s trying to disappear. He’s been quiet since we got into the car, and I know I need to talk to him about what happened at the school.

Once we’re on the road, I clear my throat. “So, Caleb,” I start with my eyes on the rearview mirror. “Why’d you hit the kid?”

Caleb doesn’t answer at first; he just stares out the window, watching the city lights blur. I glance at Leah sitting next to me, her hand resting on her lap. She’s looking at him, too, waiting.

“Caleb,” I say, my tone a bit firmer now.

Finally, he mumbles something, pulling his hood lower over his head. The kid’s shoulders are slumped, and he’s looking everywhere but in the rear mirror, where my eyes are waiting for him.

“What was that?”

He lets out a sigh, loud enough for both of us to hear. “He was calling you names.”

“Names?” I frown. “What names?”

Caleb mumbles again.

“Look at me, Caleb,” I say in a low but firm voice, and my kid meets my gaze. “What names?”

“He said you’re a—” his eyes dart away from the mirror, “a sexual predator. He said that’s what his mom said last night.”

The words hit harder than I expected. I grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, the anger simmering again. This is Harvey’s doing. Spreading lies about me, about Leah, about us. And now, my son has to hear this crap at school.

“I told him to cut it out, but he didn’t listen. When I walked up to warn him, he shoved me against the wall, and that was when I punched him in the eye.” The words are coming out in a rush now, and his voice is breaking, as if he’s sorry he disappointed us. “I didn’t mean to fight, but the other kids were laughing at you!”

Leah turns to Caleb, her voice soft but steady. “None of that is true, Caleb. What’s between your dad and me . . . there’s nothing illegal about it. Your dad isn’t a sexual predator or anything like that, okay? You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

Caleb doesn’t respond; he just crosses his arms and sinks deeper into his seat.

I know he’s not convinced. And can I blame him? His world’s been flipped upside down because of this mess and me. I hate that my personal life is affecting him like this. Harvey’s willing to burn everything to the ground just because I’m with his daughter.

“Violence is never the answer, kid,” I say, meeting his eyes in the rear mirror. “You hear me?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Only a weak man solves problems with his fist.” I swerve onto a different route. “And I’m not raising my son to be a weak man.”

“Then what do I do when someone’s saying sh—” he pauses, “stuff about me or you or Leah?”

“You let ‘em talk.” I shrug and wink at him. “You tell them it isn’t true and if they still want to say all that stuff, you let ‘em. All that matters is what you know, and what you need to know is I’m not what they’re saying I am, okay?”

Caleb nods. “Okay.”

“I love you, kid, but no, you don’t have to fight my battles for me. That’s my job.” I take Leah’s hand and squeeze. “That’s our job.”

We drive in silence the rest of the way home, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Leah’s fingers are drumming on her thigh, something she does when she’s nervous or overthinking. I want to reach out and stop them and tell her it’s going to be okay. But the truth is, I don’t know if it is.

When we finally pull up to the house, Caleb jumps out of the car, barely muttering a “good night” before disappearing inside.

Leah steps out beside me, and I can see the concern etched on her face.

She hasn’t said much since we left the school, but I know she’s thinking about what just happened. We walk inside, and when we get to the penthouse, the familiar scent of marble and leather welcomes us. My living room’s spacious, with high ceilings and soft lighting, the kind of place that’s supposed to feel like a home. And it does, but only when Leah’s here.

I glance at Leah as she drops her purse on the couch and slips off her shoes. “I can’t believe Dad would pay the principal to mess with Caleb,” she says, shaking her head. “I knew he could be ruthless, but this?”

I run a hand through my hair. “I’m not surprised. Harvey’s always been brutal when he doesn’t get what he wants.”

Her eyes meet mine, full of questions. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Tonight?” I exhale, loosening my tie. “I don’t want to think about it tonight.”

She nods, but I can tell she’s still uneasy as she stands beside the couch. What’s making her uneasy? Is there something on her mind—besides the obvious?

“In the mood for wine?”

“I’d kill for some wine.”

“Don’t move a muscle.”

I go grab a bottle of wine from the cellar, something old and expensive. The kind of vintage you save for a special occasion. Today isn’t a special occasion, but I just want to experience something good for the first time.

She’s beautiful. That’s the first thought that hits me when I glance at Leah, sitting there on my couch, two wine glasses in hand, legs curled beneath her like she’s always belonged in this space. My space. I should have never let it get this far. I should have never let her into my life, into my home, into my bed.

Yet, here I am, wanting nothing more than to drag her onto my lap and kiss the rest of the evening away.

“I got glasses while you were gone.” She raises the glasses and beams at me.

I raise the bottle of red wine. “And I got this Cheval Blanc 1947. ”

“Is that supposed to be impressive?” She rolls her eyes.

I chuckle. “For people who know their vintages, it is, yeah.”

“Ugh, Silas, would you pour our wine or do you plan on talking me to death?”

I uncork the wine and pour two glasses, handing one to her before collapsing onto the couch beside her. I peel off my shirt, leaving just the thin undershirt underneath, and sink back into the cushions.

The room’s quiet except for the sound of the wine sloshing in our glasses.

"You look tense," Leah says, her voice soft, pulling me from my thoughts.

She’s watching me, her brown eyes full of concern. She taps her fingers lightly against the wine glass. Her hair teases her collarbone, and her red lips are almost all I can focus on.

I shrug. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” She tilts her head, waiting for me to say something meaningful, but I offer a half-smile instead.

"Everything," I reply, though it feels like a cop-out.

I’m not lying, though. There’s too much running through my mind. Harvey, the mess with Caleb at school, the rumors still swirling around us like vultures waiting for the kill. But mostly, I’m thinking about her. The way she looks at me, the way she makes me feel like I’m on the edge of losing control.

She taps her fingers on the glass, a rhythm starting to drive me crazy. I lean back, staring at the ceiling, but I can’t ignore the tension between us.

“Alright,” I say, breaking the silence. “What’s bothering you?”

“There’s nothing bothering me.”

“Really?” I glance at the glass in her hand. “You’ve damn near cracked the glass from tapping it. That’s a tell that there’s something on your mind.”

She stops tapping but doesn’t look at me. “It’s . . . something my father said.” Her voice is small, hesitant.

“What’d he say?”

“He thinks I’m a fool for trusting you,” she says, finally turning to face me, her brown eyes searching mine. “Do you . . . do you actually love me, Silas? Or am I just some . . . distraction?”

Her words hit harder than I expected. Do I love her? I don’t know if I can say that. Not yet. But I know I’d never hurt her. Not intentionally.

“I’d never hurt you, Leah,” I say, my voice firm. “You know that.”

“That’s not what I asked you, Silas.”

“But that’s the answer I can give for now.”

She studies my face, then leans in closer. “The scandal. Is it getting to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is it getting to you?”

I take another sip of the one-hundred-and-thirty-thousand-dollars wine and decide it isn’t worth the price. “Sometimes I wonder, if, maybe, I took advantage of you.”

Her hands are on my face now, gentle but insistent. “That night in Rome, five years ago . . . I was an adult, Silas. I knew exactly what I wanted. And what I wanted was you.”

Her words are a balm, soothing the guilt gnawing at me. We’re so close now, her breath warm against my skin, our faces inches apart.

“I don’t want to feel like I took advantage of you,” I whisper.

“You never have to feel like that,” she whispers back, her lips brushing mine. “If I could go back to that night, I’d make the same decision all over again.”

I can't tear my gaze away from her. The scandal has already cost me a lot—Caleb’s respect, my reputation, and the last threads of my so-called friendship with Harvey. But none of that seems to matter right now.

Not with Leah so close.

Her dress’s material clings to her breasts when she moves, and every time she shifts, I catch a glimpse of smooth, porcelain thighs. It’s torture. Beautiful, delicious torture. I lean back, taking another sip of the wine I poured for us, but it doesn’t do much to drown out the growing need inside me.

“You don’t know what you do to me.” The words come out rougher than I intended. She blinks, caught off guard for a second, and then something shifts in her expression. A flicker of surprise, quickly replaced by something else—something darker, more dangerous.

"You don’t know what you do to me, Silas," she says softly, and there’s no hesitation in her voice, none of that uncertainty I half-expected.

She stands up and reaches underneath her dress to slowly pull off her panties. When she does and drops the black lacy fabric on the couch, I swear the temperature in the room rises ten degrees.

My gaze falls to her lips, slightly parted as she waits for me to make the next move, but I’m frozen for a moment. All I can think about is how this will look and play out once the world finds out—because they always find out. How much worse will it get when they see us like this? But then she leans down, placing her hands on my chest, and every rational thought slips away.

“Silas,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, “kiss me.”

I don’t need to be told twice.

I pull her onto my lap, and the second our lips collide, it’s like a dam breaking. Her hands are in my hair, tugging, while mine move down her back, gripping her hips, pulling her closer until there’s no space between us. The taste of the wine is still on her tongue, sweet and sharp, mixing with the heat of her breath, and I can’t get enough.

I slide my hands under her dress, feeling the smooth warmth of her skin, and she moans softly into my mouth. She tries to stifle it, knowing Caleb is home, but the sound still jolts me.

“Shhh,” I murmur against her lips, “we have to be quiet.”

She nods, biting her lower lip, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I pull her dress up higher, letting my fingers trace the curve of her waist and the softness of her thighs, and then I lift the dress over her head in one fluid motion. She’s bare underneath, no bra, no panties. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her—every inch of her body is perfection.

I let out a low growl. "Fuck, Leah. You're perfect."

She blushes, biting her lip again, but her hands don’t stop. She’s already working on my shirt, pulling it over my head, her fingers trailing down my chest as she moves lower. There’s something desperate about the way she touches me, like she needs this as much as I do, and it makes me even hungrier for her.

She takes my hand and leads me to her wetness. “Feel what you do to me?”

My fingers are covered in her love. Her lips part as I run a finger through her warmth. She trembles in my arms, and I watch her nipples tighten in knots.

“Silas,” she gasps when I push her down onto the couch, my mouth moving lower, trailing kisses down her neck, her collarbone, between her breasts. I take my time, savoring the way she trembles beneath me, the way her breath quickens every time my lips brush against her skin.

When I finally reach her thighs, she’s already writhing beneath me, trying to stay quiet but failing. I part her legs gently and lower my mouth to her. Her back arches off the couch as I taste her, her hands gripping my shoulders for dear life. I can feel her holding back, biting her lip to keep from crying out, and it drives me crazy.

“Let go,” I murmur against her skin, my voice low and commanding. “I want to hear you.”

She shakes her head, her eyes squeezed shut, and I can’t help but smile. She’s trying so hard to be quiet and good, but I’m not making it easy. I slide my tongue deeper, and her body jerks in response, a muffled moan escaping her lips.

“Silas, oh my god,” she whispers, her fingers tightening in my hair. “Please. Don’t stop. You’re going to make me come so hard.”

I don’t.

I keep going until I feel her body tense until her breath comes in short, sharp gasps, and then she’s falling apart in my arms.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, Silas.”

She comes quietly, her entire body trembling, and the sight of her like this—so vulnerable, so completely mine—nearly pushes me over the edge.

But I’m not done with her yet.

I kiss my way back up her body, lingering on every inch of her skin until I’m face-to-face with her again. Her eyes are half-closed, her chest still rising and falling with ragged breaths, and when I lean in to kiss her, she kisses me back with a desperation that mirrors my own.

“I can taste myself on your lips,” she whispers when she pulls away.

Her hands move down, fumbling with the buttons of my pants, and then she reaches inside, pulling me free. The second she wraps her hand around me, I groan into her mouth.

“Holy fuck.”

“See what you do to me?”

“I need you,” she whispers, her voice rough with need. “Now, Silas.”

I can’t wait. I push into her, slow at first, savoring the way she feels around me—so warm, so tight. She gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders, and then we’re moving together, our bodies perfectly in sync, as if we were made for this.

It feels right.

It feels so fucking right, despite the world telling us it’s wrong. Despite Harvey, despite the rumors, despite everything. This is where I’m meant to be: with her.

We move faster, the tension building between us, and it doesn’t take long before we’re both on the edge. I bury my face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin, and she clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded.

“God, I never want this to end.” She clings to me. “I never want to be away from you. Oh—”

She’s kissing my arm, biting softly, sending chills down my spine as I bury myself deep inside her.

“I’m close, Leah.” I increase my pace. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Come with me, baby,” she pulls my face down and takes my mouth in hers. She slips her tongue into me as I go deeper, and she whines into my mouth.

It’s all too much. My thighs tense, and she wraps her legs around me as her back arches off the couch. This is it.

“Fuck!”

We come together, her name on my lips, mine on hers. The world falls away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of us, wrapped in each other’s arms, completely lost in the moment.

Afterward, we lie there, tangled in each other, both of us too spent to move. Leah rests her head on my chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my skin, and I can’t help but think about how far we’ve come. How much has changed since that night in Rome all those years ago?

She breaks the silence, her voice soft. “You know. In a month. It’ll be six years since we met.”

Six years.

Looking back, it’s one of the best days of my life and also one of the worst. I can’t believe it’s been that long since the day we met in Rome. Since the day I failed to save my brother.

I close my eyes, trying to push the memory away. But it’s always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce. It haunts me even now.

Leah falls asleep in my arms, but I can't find peace. I can only think about my brother and how I’ll never find closure.

Maybe I don't deserve it. Perhaps I don’t deserve her.