Chapter 32
I smooth the front of my shirt nervously while sliding into the booth across from Natalie. The familiar hum of the Italian restaurant, the clinking of glasses, and the warm, inviting scent of garlic and fresh bread hit me all at once. It feels surreal to be here again. After weeks of being cooped up, the world outside Silas’s house feels strange, foreign almost, like stepping into a forgotten dream.
Natalie leans back against her seat, her amber eyes sparkling with mischief as she says, “I can’t believe you actually got Silas to agree to this and he managed to convince Davey. That’s a miracle in and of itself.”
I laugh, though the sound feels a little shaky. “Trust me, I’m as surprised as you are.”
My eyes dart to the corner of the restaurant, where Silas and Davey sit at their own table. Silas’s gaze is locked on me: sharp, focused, and unrelenting. It’s the same way he looks at everything he considers important. Davey, on the other hand, is doing his best to act casual, but even from this distance, it’s clear he’s on high alert, his attention never straying far from Natalie. I force myself to look away, turning my focus back to her instead.
Three days ago, Silas noticed something was off. I’d been quiet, my usual sharp remarks replaced by silence, lost in my own head. When he finally cornered me in the kitchen about it, I admitted the truth—I felt trapped. My days blurred together, confined to the gym and the house, and it was starting to wear on me.
He didn’t dismiss my feelings or try to argue. He just listened. Then, with quiet certainty, he told me we’d figure something out, but I wouldn’t be going out alone.
The compromise was simple: I could have my Thursday dinners with Natalie, but someone would always be nearby, watching from a distance. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than feeling like a prisoner. For this first outing, Silas and Davey insisted on taking the job themselves.
“Well,” I say now, shaking off the memory, “we’re here, so let’s make the most of it.”
Natalie’s lips curling into an amused grin. “Agreed. Let’s pretend the bodyguards aren’t grading us while we enjoy this pasta.”
I snort, sneaking another glance toward the corner. Silas hasn’t taken his eyes off me, his jaw set like he’s daring anyone to even look at me the wrong way. “I swear, I can feel Silas burning holes into the side of my head.”
Natalie leans forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh, absolutely. Davey’s probably calculating the exact probability of Silas storming over here in the next five minutes.”
That makes me burst out laughing, the sound bubbling out of me like champagne. For the first time in weeks, I feel something I hadn’t realized I was missing: lightness. I feel lighter. Freer.
We order drinks and quickly fall into our usual rhythm, swapping stories and trading playful barbs like nothing has changed. Natalie tells me about her disastrous attempt at wallpapering the guest bathroom, complete with an impression of Davey’s horrified reaction to her “creative” alignment of the pattern. I counter with a confession about binge-watching an entire season of The Great British Bake Off in one sitting, complete with a dramatic reenactment of my emotional breakdown over a poorly made sponge cake.
I’m wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, my cheeks sore from smiling as I take a sip of my cocktail. The cool, crisp flavors wash over my tongue. It’s a simple pleasure, but at this moment, it feels like everything.
“Excuse me, ladies,” a male voice interrupts, catching us both off guard. I look up to see a man standing awkwardly by our table, holding a drink in one hand. He’s in his mid-thirties, with a nervous smile and a hint of stubble. “Can I just say you both look absolutely stunning tonight?”
Natalie raises her left hand slightly, her wedding bands catching the light in a deliberate gesture. The man’s eyes flick to her fingers, and his face flushes as he shifts his attention fully to me instead.
“And you…” He clears his throat, visibly trying to gather his courage. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but can I buy you a drink?”
I blink, caught off guard, but I recover quickly, offering him a kind smile. “That’s really sweet of you, but no, thank you. I’m all set.”
He hesitates, looking a little disappointed but nodding politely. “Of course,” he says, dipping his head. “Well, have a great night.”
As he walks away, Natalie lets out a low whistle, leaning her chin into her palm. “You handled that way better than I would have. I would’ve scared him off with my resting Davey glare.”
I chuckle, taking a sip of my drink. “He was respectful. No need to scar him for simply asking.”
But the lightness in my laugh fades when I glance across the restaurant. Silas is still watching me, his dark eyes blaze with a heat that makes my stomach flip. The tension in his posture pulses in waves.
My phone buzzes on the table. I glance down to see a text from him.
Silas: The next guy who tries that won’t be so lucky.
My cheeks flush, and I bite my lip to suppress the smile threatening to creep across my face. Natalie catches the change in my expression, her brow arching with curiosity. “What did he say?” she asks, her tone laced with amusement. “Something brutish, I bet.”
Sliding my phone back into my bag, I shrug lightly. “You know Silas,” I say breezily. “Always so charming.”
Natalie rolls her eyes but laughs. “Charming. Sure. That’s definitely how I’d describe my brother.”
We order dinner, and I find myself relaxing more with each passing minute. Natalie’s humor is infectious, and for a while, it’s easy to forget the tension lingering just across the room. We giggle until my face hurts and I’m halfway through the best chicken carbonara in the city. This all feels almost normal.
As the waitress clears our plates and leaves to retrieve the check, Natalie leans back in her seat, glancing towards her husband and brother, grinning. “You know,” she teases, “I should’ve realized the moment you weren’t impressed by Silas that you’d be the one to bring him to his knees. I’d say I’m shocked, but honestly, I think we all saw it coming. Except maybe you.”
I roll my eyes, but before I can respond, a shadow looms over the table. I glance up to see Silas standing there, Davey just a step behind him. Silas’s expression is composed, though the faint tightness in his jaw betrays his mood.
“The check’s handled,” Silas says, his tone clipped. “We should get going.”
Natalie raises her brows. “Well, isn’t that convenient,” she says, throwing me a knowing look. “Thanks, Si.”
I grab my bag and slide out of the booth, my heart skipping as Silas steps aside to let me out. He doesn’t say much, just places a hand lightly on my lower back as he guides me toward the restaurant doors. Davey mimics the movement with Natalie, though his usual dry humor is replaced by mild exasperation.
Once we reach the entrance, the cool evening air greets us, crisp and refreshing. Davey crosses his arms, scanning the street out of habit, while Natalie beams at me, pulling me into a quick hug. “This was fun,” she says, giving her brother with a playful look. “Maybe the wardens will let us out again soon.”
Silas doesn’t rise to the bait. “Goodnight,” he says simply, his tone cool and even, though his hand hasn’t left my back.
Davey wraps an arm around Natalie’s shoulders, steering her toward their SUV. “You really can’t help yourself, love. Let’s go. Goodnight,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Goodnight,” I echo, looking up at Silas as he guides me toward the idling town car a few feet away. Cillian sits in the driver’s seat, waiting. The air between us is charged, though Silas hasn’t said much.
Silas opens the car door for me, his hand brushing mine briefly as I slide inside. He follows, closing the door with a quiet finality and the silence between us is the kind that hums. I risk a glance at him, but his gaze is fixed straight ahead, jaw locked, hands flexing against his thighs as if restraining something volatile.
I can’t tell if he’s angry, frustrated, or something else entirely.
“Take a walk,” Silas commands suddenly, his voice sharp enough to cut. I blink, startled, before realizing he’s not speaking to me.
Cillian doesn’t hesitate. He simply opens the driver’s door, steps out, and shuts it behind him. The sound echoes in the confined space, impossibly loud.
And just like that, it’s only us.
Silas leans back against the seat, his posture deceptively relaxed, but I see the way his fingers twitch before curling into loose fists. His breathing is controlled but his eyes betray him—molten, smoldering. Irritated.
“So,” he starts, those brown irises burning like embers. “You were awfully polite to that guy back there.”
I cross my arms, my frustration flaring as I hold his stare. “Was I supposed to cuss him out? He didn’t do anything wrong.”
A slow smirk spreads across his face, dark amusement flickering in his gaze. “Didn’t do anything wrong,” he echoes mockingly. “That’s cute.”
Heat creeps up my spine, pooling low in my stomach. “I was just being polite. I said I wasn’t interested and he took it in stride. He was harmless.”
Silas tilts his head, his gaze raking over me. “Harmless?” His tongue drags over his bottom lip before he fixes me with a look that makes my pulse stutter. “Tell me, Scar—would you have let him buy you that drink if I wasn’t sitting across the room?”
I lift my chin, meeting his challenge head-on. “Does it matter?”
The air shifts.
Without warning, he moves.
His hands clamp around my waist, and before I can protest, he hauls me onto his lap, forcing a gasp from my lips. My knees press into the seat on either side of his thighs, the heat of him burning through my jeans like a brand. My hands fly to his shoulders for balance.
“Silas—”
“Enough,” he interrupts, a quiet yet biting command that severs any argument before it starts. His fingers flex against my hips, dragging me closer, forcing me to feel every hard inch of him. His breath ghosts over my lips, his eyes burning into mine. “You’ve said enough. Now shut up and let me show you who gets to have your attention.”
His hands crawl up my sides, slow and deliberate, before finding the button of my jeans. I press against his chest, meaning to push him back, but the moment I feel the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips, they curl to the fabric beneath them instead.
“Silas,” I try again, but my voice betrays me—soft, uncertain.
His smirk sharpens. “Cat got your tongue?”
Those capable fingers slip beneath my waistband, finding me already soaked. My breath catches a fraction, just enough for triumph to flicker in his gaze before it turns into something more depraved.
“You’ve been like this all night?” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through my slick heat.
I shake my head too quickly. “No.”
His lips brush my ear, his voice a sinful whisper. “Liar.”
A strangled gasp escapes me as his fingers stroke my clit. Circling, teasing, punishing. My hips jerk forward, chasing the sensation before I can stop myself.
Silas hums, his hand on my back pressing me flush against him, holding me in place. “You like this,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along my jaw. “Knowing anyone could be outside this car. That someone could walk by at any second.”
His fingers move with perfect, ruthless intent. Stroking, building, dismantling me. My body clenches, trembling with a heat so unbearable it feels like I’m being consumed from the inside out.
Silas watches me struggle, soaking in every shallow breath, every desperate shift of my hips, before he presses his fingers deeper, forcing another whimper from my throat. “Where’s that smart mouth now?” He asks.
My thighs tensing around him, nails digging into his shoulders. I have nothing to say—no clever retort, no defiance. Just need.
His smirk curves like the devil himself. “That’s what I thought.”
The pressure mounts, slow and insidious, like a fuse burning down to its final spark. Every touch, every calculated stroke pushes me closer until the need becomes torturous. Silas feels it and his movements shifting from languid to devastating, pushing me over the edge with a final, savage stroke.
“Say it,” he growls. “Say it’s only me.”
“It’s only you,” I pant, the words spilling out, breaking on a moan.
My orgasm rips through me, violent and blinding, but Silas let up. He forces me to ride it out until I’m shaking in his arms, my face pressed into the side of his neck as I melt into him. And even then, he leaves his hand against me, palming the apex of my thighs like a claim.
When I finally find the strength to lift my head, he’s watching me with a look of pure, unfiltered satisfaction. His fingers tilt my chin up, and he takes my mouth with a slow, bruising kiss. “Good girl,” he murmurs against my lips, his tone filled with pride and dominance.
As I try to gather myself, still reeling, Silas zips my jeans with infuriating calm, like he didn’t just destroy me in the backseat of a car. Then, with a surprising gentleness, he shifts me back into the middle seat, buckling my seatbelt.
But his own restraint is evident, unmistakable. The hard length of him still presses against his pants, a silent promise of everything he’s held back. But he makes no other move than to settle his hand on my thigh, keeping me close.
“Ready to go home?” he asks, his voice impossibly casual.
I nod silently, my cheeks still flushed, and he taps on the window. A moment later, Cillian returns, slipping into the driver’s seat without a word.
As the car pulls away from the curb, I lean back in my seat, my heart still racing, my mind spinning. Silas doesn’t say anything else, but the faint smirk on his lips speaks volumes. He knows exactly what he’s done to me. And as I steal one last glance at his profile, sharp and commanding in the dim light, I know one thing for certain.
Silas Wells is ruining me in the best, most devastating way possible. And when this ends—because it will end—I don’t know if I’ll survive it.