Chapter 21
“W hat made you go into IT?“ Silas asks, setting a steaming cup of herbal tea on the counter next to me.
It’s almost midnight, and we’re in his kitchen. Like every other room in this home, it’s immaculate. Solid wood cabinets stretch from floor to ceiling, paired with white marble countertops that reflect the soft glow of pendant lighting. It’s a space any at-home chef would dream of, with a commercial-grade gas stove boasting eight burners, a double oven, two deep sinks, and a sprawling ten-foot island made for both prep work and hosting. It’s a kitchen designed to perfection, much like the man leaning against the counter across from me.
After lunch—a grilled cheese Silas insisted on making while I took a body shower—I’d found myself pulled into his den with several ice packs in tow. He put on a docuseries, settling into the couch beside me with his laptop, pillows and blankets stacked on the coffee table. It wasn’t lost on me that the cozy setup was likely a ploy to get me to nap, and if it was, it worked. I was out for most of the afternoon.
When I woke, groggy but more rested than I’d felt in days, I wandered into the kitchen just in time to see him plating a dinner of roasted chicken, asparagus, and rice. He caught me staring and smirked when I asked if he made it himself before telling me it was his secret to keep.
While we ate, Silas filled me in on what he’d handled during my nap. He contacted my apartment building, explaining the situation with the stolen key. I wasn’t thrilled to hear he convinced the manager to act without my permission, but I couldn’t deny how relieved I felt when he told me the building had already arranged for a locksmith to change the locks in the morning. Meanwhile, maintenance had installed a lock cover on my door.
Now, I find myself perched on one of the barstools while Silas leans casually against the cabinets next to the sink, sipping his own tea. Sleeping for most of the afternoon has left me restless, and Silas, ever attuned, has taken it upon himself to keep me entertained with a steady stream of questions.
At first, they were simple, easy—my favorite color, my death-row meal, my birthday, if I ever had pets growing up. Those were safe or simple lies. I learned just as much about him in return. He prefers green, his last meal would definitely be steak and eggs, his birthday is November sixth, and his family always had Cavalier King Charles Spaniels. But then his questions started to dip into more personal territory—where I grew up, what my parents did for work, places I’d lived.
It’s trickier navigating those. Scarlett Page can share some pieces of my past, some of the hardships, but not all. The real me is a risk he can’t uncover. If he starts digging too deep, I don’t know how I’d survive the fallout.
“I was good at coding and had an IT teacher who saw potential,” I say carefully, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. My words come slower, not because they aren’t true, but because the dull ache in my head makes it harder to think on my feet. “He recommended I take a few of the free college courses the high school offered.” I shrug, keeping my tone casual. “And IT is a field where you can make good money, so I stuck with it.”
Silas nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Davey did something similar,” he says, leaning more comfortably against the counter. “He applied to Wells when he was twenty-one with a master’s degree. We thought he lied on his resume at first, but turns out he’d graduated from high school with a ton of college credits.” He chuckles, his dimples showing faintly. “He’s always been the overachiever in our family.”
I can’t help but smile, picturing a young, eager Davey trying to talk his way into a Fortune 500 company. “Somehow, I can’t imagine anyone in your family being anything less than impressive.”
“Impressive, maybe. A little insane, definitely,” Silas jokes.
The herbal tea lets off soft tendrils of steam. I blow gently on the surface before taking a tentative sip. “Did you like studying business administration?” I ask, not bothering to act like I don’t already know his degree. Silas doesn’t seem fazed by my familiarity. Instead, he shakes his head, his expression unreadable.
“It was fine,” he admits. “I didn’t love it, but I didn’t hate it. I was good at it, so it came pretty easily to me. I enjoyed my time outside of class more than in.” His lips curl into a playful smile, his hand braced casually on the counter beside his hip.
“Did you choose your major,” I venture, tilting my head, “or was it decided for you?”
The question catches him off-guard, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, though I can’t tell if it’s out of offense or surprise. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve overstepped, but then he answers.
“It was expected of me to get some kind of business degree,” he answers with quiet honesty. After crossing his ankles, he clarifies, “I think I would’ve done it regardless. I want Wells to stay in the family for as long as possible.”
Knowing what I do about Jeremy, Silas likely didn’t feel like he had much of a choice. With his brother’s addictions spiraling out of control and Natalie uninterested, Silas became their last hope to pass the reins to another Wells.
The realization hits me harder than I expect. “That’s a pretty selfless mindset,” I remark quietly.
His brown eyes narrow further, but his smile remains, soft and amused. “Why are you so surprised I acted selflessly?”
Ignoring his question, I roll my eyes with a grin, deflecting. “Was there anything else you wished you could have studied?”
He shrugs, his shoulders rising and falling with a kind of resigned acceptance. “Not really. I knew I’d get a business degree, so I didn’t let myself consider anything else. What good would that have done?”
The simplicity of his statement nearly takes the wind out of me. I went to school for computer science out of necessity, driven by a need to survive and escape the crushing cycle of generational poverty. Silas, on the other hand, came from endless opportunity and resources, yet his path was no less predetermined. In his world, the weight of family expectations shaped his future just as survival shaped mine.
It’s strange, this thread of commonality between us. Though our circumstances are worlds apart, we both know what it’s like to have dreams sacrificed. Neither of us had the freedom to imagine what might have been. In the most messed-up, roundabout way, we’ve been dealt similar hands. That realization makes the space between us feel smaller, warmer, more tangible.
“Good thing you’re already freakishly good at the CEO thing, then,” I joke, taking another sip of tea. It’s floral and slightly earthy, a blend Silas had explained promotes sleep. I’m not sure I entirely buy into it, but the taste is pleasant enough.
He lets out a short breath. “Yeah, that is a plus.”
“And so humble.”
He takes a sip of his tea, speaking over the rim of the mug. “Am I supposed to be selfless and humble?”
“They don’t need to be mutually exclusive.”
“But imagine how much more insufferable I’d be if I was this handsome, rich, cared about others, and refused to admit how great I am?” I arch a brow as he sets his mug back down.
“You’re right. You’d be unbearable.”
Silas smirks, the dimple in his cheek making a rare appearance. “Exactly. People need me to be a little flawed. Otherwise, it just isn’t fair.”
“How generous of you,” I quip. “You really are doing the world a service.”
He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I knew you’d understand.”
“Of course,” I tease back. “Someone should really start a foundation in your honor. Maybe it can be the beneficiary of next year’s silent auction.”
He nods, playing along effortlessly. “I’d donate to that.”
I tilt my head, pretending to consider it seriously. “Only if the CEO is humble enough not to plaster his face all over the promotional materials.”
“Now you’re just trying to take all the fun out of it.”
Shaking my head, I let out a laugh and place my now half-empty mug on the counter. When I look back up, Silas is watching me, his expression soft, warm. The banter fades, leaving a quieter, heavier silence between us. For a moment, we just look at each other, neither rushing to fill the space.
At some point earlier this evening, Silas had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, trading his usual polished armor for something far more casual. Seeing him like this, in his own home under the warm glow of the kitchen lights in the middle of the night, chips away at some of the walls I’ve built around myself. Every hour we’ve spent together today has felt like peeling back another layer of him, and I find myself drawn to what’s beneath.
I had wanted there to be something unappealing about him, some fatal flaw that would make it easier to keep him at arm’s length. But the deeper I go, the harder it is to find anything that pushes me away. Gone is the disinterested, stand-offish future CEO I’d met months ago. In his place is a man who cares deeply for his family, whose dry humor rivals my own, and protects those he holds close with a ferocity that feels unwavering. And right now, for some reason I can’t fully wrap my head around, that includes me.
The reminder of everything else I need to worry about—Natalie’s safety, Peter’s inevitable punishment for the ways I’ve defied him, and the simple fact that I’ve been lying to Silas and his sister for months—presses down on me like an invisible hand around my throat. Where do I even begin to untangle this mess? Should I focus on finding the servers Peter wants, hoping it’s enough to keep him from coming after Natalie? Or should I tell Silas everything and risk his so-called “team” doing something even worse to me than Peter ever could?
The questions rattle around my head, threatening to split my skull open. But I shove them down, burying the uncertainty for another time. This isn’t a problem I can solve today. There are too many moving parts, too many variables, and I need to recover before I make any decisions. I can’t afford to let emotions cloud my judgment.
Still, as much as I know I should be keeping my distance, I’m not ready for Silas to stop looking at me the way he is right now. Like I’m the most fascinating person in his world.
Not yet.