19. Silas
Silas
W ith a slow, delicate movement, Lauren leans in until her lips brush against mine. It’s subtle, but it’s everything. Of all our kisses, this is the first time she’s initiated it, and that detail doesn’t go unnoticed. At first, I move cautiously, expecting her to pull away at any second. But when I feel her breath quicken, something in me snaps. I dive into her mouth with the hunger that’s been building since that first kiss at my place. I tilt my head, exploring every inch of her lips, savoring their softness, the electricity sparking between us with each touch. At some point, the coffee cup I held disappeared, forgotten. My hands find her waist, pulling her closer until she’s sitting on my lap, our bodies pressed tightly together. I’m addicted to her—her touch, her breath, her tongue. It’s all-consuming, and I don’t want to stop.
“Silas” she whispers softly against my mouth, her breath warm and tender. “We’re at your parents’ house.”
“ Fuck my parents, ” I growl, pulling her closer, my hands greedily gripping her waist. I don’t care who’s in the house, or if someone might walk in. I need her— now. She’s always been the priority, always the one I’ve waited for.
“Silas …” she tries again, her voice faltering under my touch.
“I need this,” I breathe, my tone rough with desperation. My hands roam her body, urgent, my mouth demanding more with every kiss.
Her lips. Her moans. It’s too much.
“But your heart …” she murmurs, a last attempt at reason.
“Let it be,” I say, my voice low and raw. “It’s never been this happy.”
Those words break her resolve. She relaxes, and I take the opportunity to push her onto the couch, climbing over her with the raw, hungry need that’s been boiling inside me. My hands glide down her leg, then slide to her rear, fingers digging into her skin, claiming every inch. I want her— all of her —and it feels like I’m drowning in the need to possess her completely. She’s dazed by my touch, and I’m consumed by the desire pulsing between us. My tongue caresses and teases her, giving a little preview of what’s to come when I finally have all of her.
Damn it, I need to control myself, or I’m going to end up rubbing against her like a damn teenager. But it feels so good to have her to myself, so natural and right.
A cough cuts through the moment, and I start mentally cursing every god I can think of. I look up and find Luca leaning casually against the wall, dressed in a black robe and holding a coffee cup. He looks like a villain straight out of a movie. “Mom sent me to offer you breakfast,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “but it looks like you’re already well-fed.”
Lauren immediately pushes me away, frantically fixing her hair and clothes. “Luca, I’m sorry,” she says, and I want to laugh. Why the hell is she apologizing? If she knew the things Luca’s done under this roof, she wouldn’t be so embarrassed. “This is a complete lack of respect; we’re at your parents’ house.”
Luca gives me that smug, knowing smile, and I shoot him a look that says exactly one thing: I’m going to kill you.
“Calm down, Lauren,” Luca says, waving it off. “No one’s a saint in this house, least of all our parents. Don’t sweat it. But I’d recommend keeping that activity out of their line of sight to avoid causing a scene.” With a grin, he turns and walks off.
I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing, but Lauren shoves me again, irritated. “ Don’t laugh! ”
“Let’s go have breakfast,” I say, standing up and offering her a hand.
We walk quietly toward the door, the air between us heavy with unspoken words. But before we step inside and pretend we’re just nothing again, I can’t resist. I grab her by the waist and push her gently against the nearest wall, stealing a kiss that’s all mine.
“To remember this moment,” I whisper against her lips. She smiles— really smiles—and it’s so disarming, I almost forget to pull away.
I always thought Lauren’s vulnerability, her tears, excited me, but I was wrong. It’s her smile— that smile—that brings me to my knees.
The rest of the day unfolds in a way that almost feels normal. My siblings and I spend hours playing board games, chatting, and actually enjoying ourselves. For once, business doesn’t come up—there’s no talk of deals or numbers, especially with the women around. We’ve learned that money can quickly kill a good conversation, and sometimes it’s just depressing to realize it’s all we have in common.
But today, Lauren’s presence changes the dynamic completely. She blends in seamlessly, laughing, joking, and even defending herself against my brothers’ teasing with quick wit and a smile. She clings to her coffee like it’s her armor, but the way she manages everyone— especially my father, who’s unexpectedly taken by her—leaves me impressed. As for my mother, she’s still trying to make sense of Lauren, but at least she’s being polite.
I catch myself watching her when she’s not looking, studying the way she interacts with my family, her laughter lighting up the room. And then the question hits me, one I’ve been trying to ignore: What do I really want from Lauren Green? The answer is so loud, it feels like it’s screaming from inside me.
As night falls, everyone retreats to their rooms to get ready for Christmas dinner. I find myself waiting outside Lauren’s door, feeling an unfamiliar sense of nervousness. When the door finally opens, I understand why. Lauren stands there in the dress I gave her, hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders, no glasses in sight, and those green eyes of hers practically glowing. For a moment, I’m speechless. She looks flawless, almost unreal. I try to say something, but my mind goes blank. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to speak, how to think—how to be human.
“I’m ready,” she says with a smile that could light up the room.
My mind might be frozen, but my body knows exactly what to do. I step closer, cornering her between the doorframe and my lips. “I can see that,” I whisper, my hands settling on her waist. “You look …” My fingers feel massive against her delicate frame, and all I can think about is how they’d feel on her bare skin.
“ Very good? I know. This dress is magical—thank you,” she teases, her mood light and carefree, which instantly puts me at ease.
I smile back, taking her hand in mine and leading her down the hallway. “Let’s get this over with,” I say, leaning in a little closer. “The sooner, the better.”
My mom always goes all out for Christmas dinner, hiring staff to set up a picture-perfect table and serve the finest food. I’m not saying it’s unnecessary, but it’s a bit ridiculous. All we really want is a relaxed family celebration, and having waiters hovering around and placing food on your plate just adds an awkward, trivial vibe to the whole thing. And I know Lauren hates it. I can see it in the way her body tenses every time a server brings food. I should’ve warned her. I know exactly what she’s thinking—that these people should be with their own families, not here. It upsets her. That’s why I slide my hand onto her thigh whenever I see her on edge. She gives me a tight smile, trying to pretend she’s not bothered by all of this.
“They didn’t put much effort in this year,” my father comments, barely looking up from his plate.
“I agree,” my mother chimes in. “This is what happens when you hire the same people year after year—they get too comfortable, Thomas. The service and quality just aren't the same.”
Lauren tenses again, and this time I slide my hand higher up her thigh. It pulls her focus right back to me. I’m quickly getting addicted to wanting her all to myself.
“What are you doing?” she hisses through clenched teeth, her eyes darting nervously.
“I’m distracting you,” I say with a devilish grin.
“Stop it.” She grabs my hand, trying to pull it away, but she doesn’t have the strength—or maybe the will—to stop me.
“Let’s make a deal,” I murmur, my grin widening. “You stop worrying about the waiters, and I’ll stop touching you at the Christmas table.” I pause for effect, dragging my fingers just a little higher. “Unless you want your gift early.”
I wink, and she knows exactly what I mean. Her ears turn red, and she shifts uncomfortably. Lauren tries to refocus on my siblings, but no one’s paying attention to us. They’re all too busy discussing the culinary market, oblivious to what’s happening under the table.
“No one’s going to save you, Bunny,” I whisper, my hand still teasingly moving up her dress.
“Okay, okay,” she finally whispers back, giving in, but her face is flushed, and I know I’ve won this round.
Unconsciously, I drape my arm over the back of Lauren’s chair and pull her a little closer. It’s subtle, but it catches everyone’s attention—especially my parents’. I act like I don’t notice, focusing on my plate, casually poking at something with my fork as I bring it to my mouth. Once the room adjusts to this shift between us, the conversations resume. Somehow, as usual, my father steers the topic toward business, like a parasite finding its way into every corner of discussion.
“How’s that project coming along, Silas?” he asks, his tone sharp.
“It’s going well,” I reply, mimicking his bluntness with a hint of irritation. “We’ll continue negotiations starting in January.”
“No, that’s too long,” he snaps back, setting his wineglass down hard. “You can’t let it sit there. Move it up.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I counter, my voice firm. I know it annoys him; I can see it in the way his brow furrows.
“I don’t care about your opinion, Silas. It’s my company, and this is how I want it to run.” His words hit like a drumbeat, reverberating in my chest.
Boom, boom, boom.
And then, out of nowhere, Lauren interrupts with a voice so sweet and innocent, it almost makes me laugh. “Actually, Mr. Walker …” she begins, catching the whole table’s attention. No one dares to contradict my father—ever.
“Thomas,” he corrects her, which causes Luca and me to exchange uneasy glances.
Lauren flashes him a warm, disarming smile. “Thomas,” she continues, “the investors were the ones who advised postponing negotiations until January. Many of them mentioned they’re family people and needed to spend time with their loved ones before the new year. Silas proposed pausing the project for two weeks, which was well-received. Mr. Lee, for example, said he doesn’t see many companies that prioritize families over business anymore, and that reflected well on the Walkers. Mrs. Lennon even mentioned using the holiday season to attract more investors. She knows people who might be interested but wouldn’t cross paths with them until the holidays.”
Lauren’s words hang in the air, and for the first time, I see my father actually listening. When she finishes, there’s a brief silence .
Then Thomas Walker nods. “You might be right,” he says, as if it pains him to admit it.
I’m stunned. My father— my father —just conceded.
Lauren’s eyes stay locked on mine, and something shifts. In that moment, I’m not just grateful. I’m falling—falling into her warmth, her strength, and her kindness. For the first time in my life, someone stood up for me, defended me, and rescued me from the weight of my father’s tyranny. And it was Lauren Green. I can feel something unfamiliar fill my chest, something I’ve never felt before.
Love.
After dinner, dessert, and coffee, the women retreated to their rooms. Lauren disappeared for her video call with her family, and I could hear her laughter drifting through the house as she chatted with her parents and sister. The sound was warm, familiar, and I couldn’t help but wonder how different this night would have been if her family had been here.
Maybe next Christmas, we could visit them.
Wait, what the hell? Next Christmas? The thought blindsided me. Lauren isn’t my wife, my girlfriend, or anything close to that. She’s here to keep my family entertained, and I have to admit, she’s doing a damn good job of it. Sure, she’s distracting me, too, but that’s not the point.
My dad excused himself at midnight, leaving my brothers and me to hang around the table, finishing off the last of the drinks. But I couldn’t shake the thought that had lodged itself in my mind. Next Christmas, huh? What the hell is happening to me?
“Did you propose?” Luca asks, a grin plastered on his face.
I choke on my whiskey, coughing like an idiot. “What the hell are you talking about?” I sputter, wiping my mouth and checking my shirt like I’ve just been personally attacked by this absurd suggestion .
Luca leans in, all smug and superior, like he’s about to bestow the wisdom of the ages. “Silas,” he says slowly, “you’re in love with that woman. Stop pretending nothing’s going on between you two. You’ve already wasted enough time.”
Oliver, slouched in his chair, jumps in. “I’m with Luca on this.” He looks like he’s had one too many drinks, and I briefly consider if I should cut him off.
“Are you guys even listening to yourselves?” I ask, incredulous. “Marriage? When did you all turn into fans of commitment?”
“Since we saw how you two acted,” Killian says with a grin, pointing a finger at me. “Don’t let her slip away, man. You won’t find many women who’ll stand up to Dad like she did.”
“Yeah,” Oliver slurs, dragging his words like they’re too heavy for him. “I swear, I thought Dad was gonna throw her out, but then she smiled. ”
Luca laughs, nodding. “I still can’t believe how well she handled him. I’d kill to have an assistant like that.”
Killian chimes in with that annoyingly playful tone, “Besides, no woman can resist a ring. Put a rock on her finger, now. ”
I snort. “You clearly don’t know Lauren well enough.” I can already picture her reaction—probably telling me I could save twenty villages with the price of the ring or that the diamond was mined from some sacred land I’ve never heard of.
“But you know her,” Luca counters, giving me a nudge. “Do whatever you have to, but don’t let her slip away, again .” He pauses for dramatic effect, swirling his drink like a villain. “And let’s be honest—it wouldn’t hurt the company to have its CEO looking like a family man. ”
He winks and chuckles into his whiskey glass, while my other brothers nod along like they’ve solved the mysteries of the universe.
When Lauren’s laughter fades from the hall, I make my move. I stand from the table, casually excusing myself with some weak bathroom excuse, though I know my brothers see right through it. I knock on her door three times and wait, knowing full well that it’s late, but there’s no way I’m ending the night without seeing her .
She opens the door, wearing the same pajamas from the day before. And apparently, my body doesn’t give a damn about what she’s wearing because every time I’m near her, it’s like my mind goes blank and my body takes over.
“Do you have more questions for me?” I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. Anything to stay longer, to have some time alone with her.
Lauren taps her index finger against her cheek, pretending to think. She’s so adorable that I have to roll my eyes and look away before I do something stupid—like tackle her onto the bed like a caveman.
“Yes, actually,” she says, grinning. “Do you want to come in?”
“More than anything,” I mutter under my breath.
She moves to the center of her room, settling into an armchair by the window, and I close the door behind me. I sit at the foot of her bed, feeling like an impatient kid waiting for his turn to speak. But all I really want to do is act.
“How’s your family?” I ask, picking up the dress she wore earlier, neatly folded on the bed. For a moment, images of her undressing flash through my mind, but I push them aside before they cause any real trouble.
“They’re fine. Thanks for asking.” Lauren tucks her feet up onto the chair, hugging her knees to her chest. There’s a look in her eyes that tells me she has more questions ready, and I brace myself, placing both hands on the mattress.
“What do you hate most in life?” she asks, her voice soft but curious.
Myself. The answer comes to mind instantly, but I don’t say that. Instead, I smirk and say, “People.”
Lauren laughs, assuming I’m joking. I search quickly for something less grim to follow it up with. “Besides ...”
“I don’t have time to hate.”
She raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “That’s deeper than I expected. What was your favorite class in school? ”
“That’s easy. English. It was pretty simple to pass.” And it was the only class I shared with you , I think, but I don’t say.
“Who was your best friend?”
I shake my head. “None of the ones you’re thinking of. If they were, I’d still be in touch. The closest thing to a friend I’ve got now is Luca. Who’s your best friend?” I ask, turning the question on her.
“Emma. She always has been,” she replies without hesitation.
I nod, thinking it over.
“How many times has your heart been broken?” she asks.
I answer without thinking. “Once.”
“By whom?” Lauren’s gaze sharpens, clearly intrigued.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say quickly. “Same question—has your heart been broken?”
She rests her chin on her knees, staring off into space. “Not yet,” she murmurs, her gaze distant, as if she’s getting lost in her own thoughts. “Do you ever feel lonely?”
All the damn time. But I give a more measured response. “Sometimes, but it’s not always a bad thing. When there’s no one filling the space, being alone is better.”
Until Lauren Green came back into my life and set up camp .
“I agree,” she says. “I learned early on that being alone is more productive than constantly being around people. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend time with the people I love—I just have my limits.”
“If I ever push those limits, let me know.”
Lauren gives me a soft smile, but something shifts in her expression. It’s like she’s realized something, and I know what’s coming. “Why did you hate me in school?” Her eyes are locked onto mine, expectant and nervous. I get the sense this is the question she’s always wanted to ask.
I take a breath. “Do you remember the first time we met?”