Chapter Thirty
Silas
It feels like the universe is doing everything it can to rile me up lately. Yesterday, it was that damn woman, Karen. She just couldn’t resist trying her insanity with Danae, as if it’s Danae’s fault that she’s a bland woman with no personality who I could never have anything to do with, even if she was the last woman alive.
I’m glad I gave her a dose of her own medicine. But it seems that drama at the gala has followed me home all the way to my office. My parents are here now, droning on about how I’ve pulled unwanted attention in Danae’s direction by simply defending her.
The air in my office feels like it’s closing in on me, thick…fucking stifling. And that’s even despite the fact that I’ve got the window wide open behind me. I’d almost do with anything right now, the scent of the city, the scent of alcohol. Hell, I’d do with being distracted by the scent of a fucking exhaust pipe right now.
Instead, the heavy scent of old leather from the armchairs and the faint trace of my father’s cologne dominate the room, wrapping around me like a noose, forcing me to concentrate on the conversation at hand.
I sit behind my desk, my elbows resting on its cool surface as my fingers press into my temples. A dull ache has taken root there, growing stronger with every word that spills from my parents’ mouths. Their voices blend together, sharp and insistent, each word like a needle pricking at my patience.
“She’s the talk of the town now, Silas,” my mother says, her tone carrying that edge she springs up whenever she wants to really get me to pay attention. Her lips are drawn tight, the faint lines around her mouth more pronounced than usual. She’s seated on the edge of one of the armchairs across from me, her posture rigid, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“Everyone is talking about her. About you.” Her hazel eyes, sharp and assessing, bore into me as if willing me to understand the gravity of her words. “Some of them are praising her, yes, but there are others.” She lets the sentence dangle, her voice tapering off, but the meaning is as clear as the frustration in her pinched expression.
The others are ripping Danae apart. And honestly, thank goodness for their sakes that I haven’t heard it firsthand.
I lean back into my chair, letting my head rest against the smooth leather as I blow out a sharp breath. “This is all because of the gala,” I mutter, my voice low and clipped. Even saying the word feels like dragging glass through my throat. That night is a storm cloud that is long overstaying its welcome, and my irritation is bubbling closer to the surface with every passing second that I spend talking and thinking about it.
My father, who up until now has been silent, clears his throat. His deep, measured tone cuts through the office space like a scalpel. “About that,” he begins, his words deliberate, his gaze steady. My father has a way of looking at you that makes you feel like you’re under a microscope. His gray eyes are piercing, the same color as the salt creeping into his otherwise dark hair. “Karen’s family has formally requested an apology for what happened at the gala.”
The words hang in the air for a moment as if waiting for me to process them. Then, before I can stop myself, a bitter laugh escapes my lips, sharp and humorless. “An apology?” I repeat, leaning forward in my chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no way in hell I’m apologizing to her.” My tone is incredulous, my voice rising slightly. I glance between my parents, searching for any sign that this is some sort of joke, but their solemn faces tell me otherwise.
“She’s the one who started it,” I say, my voice hardening as my irritation flares into anger. “She used her pheromones on Danae first. Are we all just conveniently forgetting that?”
My mother’s gaze falters, her lips pressing together as though she’s trying to bite back a response. She looks uncomfortable now, her hands tightening in her lap. My father, however, doesn’t flinch. He meets my glare with the same calm, steady expression he’s always worn, the kind that makes you feel like arguing with him is a waste of breath.
“It doesn’t matter who started it, Silas,” he says, his tone measured, like he’s explaining something obvious to a stubborn child. “You know how these things work. Karen’s family is significant—almost as significant as ours. The fact that you used your pheromones on her, and in a public setting, no less, is a serious offense in their eyes. They’re not going to let this go.”
My jaw tightens, and I can feel the muscles in my shoulders jolting with tension. My father’s words are logical, sure, but they don’t make them any easier to swallow. Karen’s family twisting the narrative to paint her as the victim isn’t just infuriating—it’s predictable. She attacked Danae and tried to humiliate her in front of everyone, and I stepped in to protect her. And somehow, I’m the one being dragged for some pathetic apology.
“They’re leveraging it,” my father continues, his voice steady but firm, as though he’s preparing me for a business negotiation. “They’re using it to gain control of the situation, to force your hand.”
I let out another scoff, leaning back in my chair as I cross my arms over my chest.
Of course, they are.
It was the same way they leveraged their prominence in the city to try and push the idea of a match between me and their daughter about two years ago. This just feels like a cheap attempt at payback for rejecting them at this point.
Before I can voice the litany of arguments building in my throat, my father leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His expression hardens, his gray eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that forces me to sit up straighter. “But,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, “there’s a way to resolve this. A way to put an end to all of it without bowing to their demands.”
I raise an eyebrow, curiosity swelling within me. “And what’s that?”
His next words feel like they come out of nowhere. “Start the preparations for your wedding.”
My first reaction is shock. I blink, the tension in my shoulders momentarily giving way to sheer disbelief. “The wedding?” I echo, my voice almost unsteady as I try to process the shift in the conversation. It’s like we’ve suddenly veered off course into uncharted territory.
“Yes,” my father says, his tone unwavering. “Right now, Karen’s family feels entitled to demand an apology because Danae isn’t officially part of our family. Not yet. But once the two of you are married, everything changes. Any insult to her becomes an insult to us. At that point, they lose their leverage.”
The words sink in slowly, each one clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle I hadn’t realized I was assembling. The logic is sound—typical of my father—but it’s not just the strategic aspect that takes root in my mind. It’s the idea of marrying Danae.
The thought stirs something in me, something unexpected and almost startling in its intensity. I’ve always thought of marriage as a distant obligation, something I’d eventually do out of duty rather than desire. But now, the image of Danae—her hair cascading down her back, her green eyes burning with that quiet fire that drives me crazy—standing beside me as my wife feels right.
More than right.
I can feel the corners of my lips twitching upward, a faint smile pulling at my face as the idea takes hold. It’s not just about getting my parents off my back anymore.
No. Marrying now feels like something I want to do for me. For her. For us.
“I agree,” I say finally, my voice steady as I meet my father’s gaze. The words feel natural like they’ve been waiting to be spoken all along. “I’ll start the arrangements for the wedding.”
My mother exhales audibly, a soft sigh of relief that I catch even as her expression softens. She doesn’t say anything, but the faint tenseness in her shoulders eases. My father gives a curt nod, his approval subtle but unmistakable.
But their reactions barely register. My thoughts are already a thousand miles away, racing ahead as I picture what’s to come.
Danae in white, her eyes fixed on mine as we exchange vows. Her hand in mine, steady and sure, as we face the world together.
The idea fills me with a sense of purpose, a certainty that cuts through the lingering frustration and irritation like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
This isn’t just a solution to the mess with Karen’s family. It’s the start of something bigger. Something real. Something I never in a million years expected to want as badly as I do now.
I’m going to get married to Danae. My perfect mate. My Omega. And damn, I’m excited for it.