Chapter 10
T he alarm bells in my brain ring louder, reverberating through every corner of my mind. Jeremy Wells is calculated. His demeanor, his tone, the way he carries himself. It’s all by design. To the casual observer, he’s the very embodiment of the success story the magazines claim. But it’s his eyes that betray him. They’re too empty, too hollow.
Something’s just off .
“A pleasure, Scarlett,” Jeremy says, his voice oozing charm. “Where has my sister been hiding you?”
I pull my hand back with careful precision, schooling my features into a courteous smile. My instincts tell me that Jeremy’s the kind of man who doesn’t take rejection lightly. I shift my handbag in front of me, holding it with both hands to make a subtle barrier between us. If he notices the move, he doesn’t show it.
“We’re new friends,” I reply, keeping my tone cordial but distant. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
Natalie takes a step closer, quietly positioning herself between her brother and me. Jeremy glances at her from the corner of his eye, his lips twitching as if he’s just won some unspoken game. The tension between them is sharp. Hoping to diffuse the subtle hostility strung taut between the two of them, I offer a hello to Davey over Natalie’s shoulder. His response is a curt nod, his eyes lingering on me like I’m a puzzle he’s still deciding if he wants to solve.
The silence stretches uncomfortably before Natalie clears her throat, forcing a smile. “My father had to take a call in one of the guest rooms, so we’ll meet him at the top of the stairs. Do you want to have a quick drink before we head down? It’ll only be a few minutes.”
Before I can respond, a glass of clear liquid appears between us, and Silas’s presence pulses beside me like a live current. His chest brushes my shoulder lightly, the faint scent of cedarwood and something warm surrounding him. Both Natalie and I glance up as he offers the drink, his mischievous brown eyes darting between us.
“If you’re going to walk down with us, you’ll need it.” He shrugs.
My pulse skips. The implications of entering the party alongside the Wells family hit me like a wave. This would set a precedent I’m not sure if I can afford to establish, and my mind scrambles to calculate the potential fallout. My voice comes out an octave too high, betraying my unease. “I’ll go down ahead of you all. Or maybe I’ll take the back staircase again.”
Silas raises an eyebrow. “And draw attention to the hallway no one is supposed to be using?” His lips twitch with suppressed amusement. “Guests are expecting us any minute. You wouldn’t want them thinking you were sneaking around my house. Or worse, sneaking off for a little rendezvous with one of us. Would you?”
My mind stumbles over the images they conjure, soliciting two opposite reactions I don’t want to think too much about.
“A rendezvous? What are we, in a Shakespearean play?” I fire back, narrowing my eyes. My quick retort is a desperate attempt to deflect, but Silas doesn’t miss a beat.
“It’s French,” he counters, his smirk widening. “16th century, if we’re being precise.”
I roll my eyes, annoyed by his impeccable timing and his ability to make even etymology sound arrogant. “Does Merriam-Webster pay you commission?”
The sparks between us flare brighter as his smirk deepens. Before he can retract his offer, I reach for the glass. His fingers brush mine as I take it, and the feel of his skin sends a cascade of heat rippling through me. He doesn’t let go immediately, lingering just long enough to feel purposeful. When he finally does, his fingers slide against mine in a way that makes my skin erupt with goosebumps.
I keep my eyes fixed on the drink, refusing to meet his gaze. Natalie raises her own nearly empty glass in a silent toast, and I follow suit, needing the liquid courage more than I care to admit.
“Down the hatch,” I mutter, draining the drink in one long swallow. The burn ignites at the back of my throat, spreading like fire to my stomach. It’s smoother than most, but vodka has never been my drink of choice, and I grimace slightly as I force it down.
When the stinging subsides, I suck on one of the ice cubes to dull the aftertaste, holding it between my lips. Once the sting begins to soothe, and I open my eyes, I immediately notice that Silas hasn’t moved an inch. If anything, he might be leaning in closer; his chest pressing more firmly against my shoulder when I shift.
His jaw is tight, but it’s his eyes that freeze me in place. They’re darker than before, molten and intense as they lock onto my lips. For a brief, dizzying moment, I can’t move, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel the slow, deliberate path of his attention.
And then, just as suddenly as it started, the moment snaps. Natalie’s voice cuts through the air as she speaks to Davey, and I tear my eyes away from Silas, blinking rapidly to clear the haze. But the heat he’s left in his wake lingers, pooling low in my stomach and making it impossible to forget just how close he remains.
“You know what? I’ll escort you downstairs,” Silas announces, his tone equal parts confident and casual, like he’s doing me a favor I never asked for. I roll my lips between my teeth, feeling the last remnants of the ice cube melt completely on my tongue, and hold back the sharp retort that rises.
Letting people think there’s something more between us could be socially isolating in these circles. It would paint a target on my back, making me a topic of whispered conversations and envious glances. I need to get closer to the Wells family, but not like that . And it doesn’t help knowing he’s only saying it to get a rise out of me.
“That would give the impression that I’m your date,” I say carefully, my voice even.
“It would,” Silas agrees, his tongue grazing his bottom lip in that infuriatingly deliberate way. His dark eyes flick up to meet mine, glinting with amusement as he begins to straighten the sleeves he had rolled up. “I’m not in the business of caring what anyone down there thinks, but I suppose you’re right.”
“Good.” I nod, relieved that, for once, we’re on the same page. His fingers pause mid-roll on his sleeve, and his lips curl into that signature smirk that makes my pulse tick faster than I’d like.
“So,” he drawls, “would you prefer to walk on my left or my right?”
My head snaps up, neck going ramrod straight. “Come again?”
His smirk widens as he runs a hand over his stubble, clearly enjoying himself. “I don’t have a date, and as the host of this event, I probably should. Plus, it’ll look odd if you walk down with our family without someone by your side.”
“Leave her alone, Si,” Natalie interjects, waving him off with a hand as if dismissing his antics entirely. “She can do whatever she’d like.”
Davey, who’s been silent this whole time, stands and adjusts his suit jacket. His bored expression doesn’t waver as he leans toward his wife and murmurs something I can’t quite catch.
The instinct to agree with Natalie dies on my tongue. Refusing Silas outright could backfire in more ways than one. He might tell me to leave, or worse, hand me over to Jeremy. And, admittedly, there’s a strategic advantage to this arrangement. Spending the rest of the evening by Silas’s side could grant me access to conversations and insights I’d never get otherwise.
Exhaling sharply, I grit out, “It’d be an honor.”
Silas chuckles, the sound low and rich, vibrating through my chest like a drumbeat. His presence seems to radiate through the room as he plucks the empty glass from my hand and carries it back to the bar cart in the corner. While his back is turned, I seize the opportunity to scan the room again, letting my eyes rake over every detail, searching for something useful.
The bookshelves lining the walls are immaculate, filled with leather-bound volumes and glossy spines that gleam under the warm light. Nothing is out of place. The desk itself is devoid of clutter, save for his laptop and a minimalist desk lamp. Still, I mentally catalog the desk. Those drawers could hold something valuable. I file the thought away for later.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were unhappy with this proposal,” Silas’s voice is laced with mock offense as he returns to my side. That damn errant curl has fallen over his glasses again, and in this lighting, with the bookshelves framing him like a portrait, he looks like the kind of handsome that could ruin lives. My palms start to sweat, despite my best efforts to stay composed.
“Whatever would give you that impression?” I reply, tilting my head just enough to match his energy.
“Just a hunch.” He steps closer and extends his arm, gesturing for me to take it. I hesitate for a moment before lightly grasping the crook of his elbow with my free hand, my fingers barely brushing the taut muscle of his arm. His bicep flexes slightly under my touch, a subtle reminder of the strength coiled beneath his polished exterior.
“You can always keep me company instead, Scarlett,” Jeremy interjects from the corner, his vacant smile fixed in place.
I force a polite, almost thankful look in his direction. “I appreciate the offer, but now I need to prove I can survive being tortured.”
Natalie snorts from behind us, clearly enjoying the exchange. “God, I love when a woman wants nothing to do with you,” she says, her gaze locked on her older brother. There’s an undeniable satisfaction in her voice. “Someone needs to keep you humble.”
“I have a feeling Ms. Page won’t have any issues doing that.” Silas’s smirk turns sharper as he glances down at me. “This might be my most entertaining auction yet.”
“I’m so glad I can be a source of entertainment for you,” I mutter, my tone dripping with sarcasm as I shift my hair over one shoulder awkwardly with my small handbag still between my fingers. “Maybe next time you can hire a circus monkey instead.”
Leaning in closer, Silas lowers his voice to a near whisper, his breath tickling the sensitive spot just below my jaw. “I’m partial to the fire-breathing woman, so this arrangement works.”
The space between us feels off-kilter, like he’s tilted the balance in his favor without me noticing. “Be careful,” I whisper back, meeting his gaze with a sharpness of my own. “If you get too close, you’ll burn.”
His lips part slightly as his eyes trace the slope of my neck. “And what if I’m into fireplay?” The words are barely audible, meant only for me. My heart stutters, but by some miracle, I manage to keep my expression neutral.
“Save the fake charm for the next poor woman who stumbles into your path,” I retort with a sigh, brushing off his comment as I straighten my spine. “I’ve already agreed to be your date.”
Silas chuckles before opening the door with me still on his arm. His proximity is a constant, almost oppressive force, but I can’t deny that it’s effective. He knows exactly how to command a room, even one as private as this.
“Is he still harassing you?” Natalie asks, her tone a mix of humor and exasperation.
“Ms. Page can handle herself,” Davey interjects, his voice dry as he exhales heavily. It’s clear he’s eager to leave the room, and I don’t blame him.
As we step into the hallway, I can’t shake the feeling that the real tension in the room wasn’t between Silas and me, but between Jeremy and his siblings. Jeremy’s hollow demeanor is unsettling, and the way his gaze lingered on me still makes my skin crawl.
We file out in a line, and Silas pauses behind to wait for Jeremy, who exits last, allowing his older brother to lock the door behind us. I hear the faint beep of a fingerprint scanner, and my stomach drops as I spot the sleek mechanism I missed on my way in. Of course, Silas would have one of the best on the market.
The door is solid wood, and the frame and hinges scream of custom reinforcement, designed to withstand brute force. Even with the highest-rated tools, breaking into this room would take time no intruder would have before the scanner’s secondary security measures kicked in. The system is state-of-the-art, durable, and encrypted to a point that would challenge even the most seasoned hacker.
It’s impressive, but not impenetrable. Not if someone came prepared.
“Like what you see?” Silas’s voice snaps me out of my analysis, the low taunt in his tone unmistakable. His eyes flick between me and the now-locked door, his grin forming in slow, deliberate degrees. If I were the kind of woman who let her hormones get the better of her, I might’ve flushed at the innuendo laced in his words.
“I shouldn’t be surprised that Davey would outfit your office like that,” I reply, keeping my expression unimpressed.
Silas hums, his thumb still pressed to the scanner as he seems to savor the moment. “I trust Davey’s judgment.”
“That’s a surprisingly kind acknowledgment,” I admit, studying the angle of his jaw as the lock clicks into place. He steps away from the door, falling into stride beside me as we make our way toward the stairs.
“Davey has improved our existing protocols. He’s an asset to my team,” Silas says, the appreciation in his tone subtle but genuine.
As much as I’d love to write him off as an entitled brat, his intelligence is glaringly obvious. Davey might be the architect of their security, but Silas knows how it works, and likely how to wield it. These two men are mirrors of each other: calculated, paranoid, and annoyingly competent.
“As he should be. Successful people turn to experts for advice and actually use it.” The compliment tastes bitter on my tongue, knowing full well that one day soon, I’ll be the one working to dismantle all those safeguards.
“Spoken like a true business owner,” he replies, his tone appreciative, as though recognizing a kindred spirit. The intention in his words makes something in my chest tighten, a feeling I quickly suppress.
We are not the same, and I need to remember that.
My thoughts come to an abrupt halt as we round the corner and I spot the Wells patriarch waiting at the top of the staircase. William Wells’s dark suit is perfectly tailored, his posture impossibly straight, and his eyes, sharp and assessing, land on me with the precision of a scalpel.
I’ve read countless articles about William Wells, his ruthlessness in business, and his ability to outmaneuver competitors with terrifying ease. But being the focus of his gaze is something else entirely. There’s no preparing for it. No magazine article can replicate the weight of his authority.
To no one’s surprise, the Wells genes dominate across all generations. Though William’s features are softer, he shares the same wavy hair and brown eyes as his sons while his daughter’s hazel color comes from his late wife. The lines around his eyes and salt-and-pepper hair are the only signs of age, and even they seem like afterthoughts. The striking difference lies in his demeanor. Unlike Silas’s playful glint or Natalie’s warmth, William is all sharp edges and certainty.
Peter originally wanted me to go after William directly, but that would have been an instant red flag—a thirty-year-old woman cozying up to a sixty-year-old powerhouse? I wouldn’t last more than two interactions before Davey or someone else called me out. William is too powerful, too private, and far too calculating to let someone like me slip through the cracks. Silas may be just as guarded, but at least with him, my attention feels natural.
“Natalie mentioned a friend would be joining us,” William begins, though he doesn’t address me directly. His mouth tightens into a line as he shifts his attention to Silas. “Does it seem wise to find a date an hour into the event?”
“Ms. Page is about as pleased with this arrangement as you are,” Silas responds, his mirth barely concealed. William doesn’t take his son’s word for it and glances at Davey, who offers a single nod.
“Scarlett and Natalie are new friends. She checks out,” Davey says, his tone skeptical despite the confirmation. Even though he doesn’t trust his own research, at least the time I spent refining Scarlett’s online presence wasn’t wasted.
“I’d hope so, considering she’s standing here,” William retorts. Natalie’s face flushes with embarrassment, her gaze darting between her father and me. It takes everything in me not to bristle at William’s comments.
I force a smile and decide to tread lightly. “I did try to excuse myself, but Silas… convinced me to join him.”
“Don’t you mean I charmed you?” Silas interjects, flexing his arm slightly under my hold. I glance up at him, catching the faintest hint of warmth in his expression. It’s subtle, but enough to send an unwelcome tingle down my spine.
“Coerced, strong-armed, annoyed incessantly… those are also acceptable answers,” I reply, squeezing the crease of his elbow for emphasis.
William lets out a breath, the smallest trace of a smirk breaking through his stoicism. “At least she’ll give you a run for your money.” He steps forward and extends his hand toward me. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Page.”
A man like William doesn’t need to introduce himself. His reputation precedes him, and the power dynamics are clear. Still, I let go of Silas to take his hand with a firm grip, meeting his gaze head-on. “Likewise. I’ll be on my best behavior in front of your guests.”
“You’ll be a reflection of my son, not me. So if you want to raise hell, by all means,” he responds, his charisma shifting gears seamlessly. He winks, a calculated move that’s both disarming and unnerving.
“Tempting,” I say with a coy smile as I place my hands back on Silas’s bicep. “Depending on how the night goes, it could be a possibility.”
William chuckles, turning toward the staircase where a staff member waits halfway down. With a nod from William, the music downstairs cuts off abruptly. There’s no announcement. The absence of sound and the weight of the family’s presence are enough to command the room’s attention.
“Showtime,” Jeremy mutters, clapping his father on the shoulder. William exhales and begins his descent, his children following in order of birth. Silas guides me with measured steps, the strength of his muscles under my hand grounding me.
As we reach the top of the stairs, my grip tightens on Silas’s arm and my pulse races. Not from fear, but from the sudden realization of what I’ve just committed to. In this moment, under the scrutiny of Chicago’s elite, I’ve tethered myself to Silas Wells. And there’s no turning back now.