23. Silas
Silas
L aughing during stressful moments? Yeah, that’s me—childish, immature, and so typically Silas Walker.
Before I even realized it, I asked Lauren to move in with me. One day. We’ve been together for just one day, and I already dropped that on her. So, what’s next? What am I going to do in a month? Propose? And in a year? I can’t even begin to wrap my head around it.
God, I’m such an idiot.
The sun’s long gone, and the coffee table is a graveyard of takeout containers, empty cans, and random wrappers. We’re halfway through our second movie of the day, and neither of us has a clue what it’s about because, well, I can’t keep my hands off her.
Lauren awakens things in me I didn’t even know existed. She always has. We’ve always belonged to each other. And now, after all these years, we finally can be. And during all those years we were apart, she was always there, lingering in the back of my mind like a quiet presence that never fully faded. When I first embraced the idea of Wabi-Sabi, the beauty of imperfection, it was because of her. I found a strange comfort in the cracks, the flaws, and the worn-out edges of life because they reminded me of Lauren. A crack in a piece of pottery makes it unique. A flaw in the wood brings character. Weathered stone tells a story. Imperfection brings absolute beauty to my eyes, and somehow, I think I always knew Lauren existed in that same world of imperfect perfection. Even when she was far away, she was close—always close. That’s Lauren. That’s why she fits so effortlessly into my home, my life, my entire philosophy. She’s the missing piece in this imperfect, incomplete life of mine. She always has been.
Luca was right. I’ve always been in love with her. And I was a complete fool to focus on the wrong feelings for so long. But I think there’s still time. Time to make things right, to finally tell her what she’s always meant to me.
To make her mine—and to be hers.
In the morning, I work quietly from bed, my laptop balanced on my legs, my body relaxed and bare. She sleeps beside me, her back uncovered, her blonde hair fanning out across the pillow— her pillow now.
I can’t help but reach out, running a finger gently down her spine, tracing the soft curve of her skin with mine, committing every inch to memory. There’s a new kind of happiness inside me, one that comes with the realization of just how lucky I am to have her here. When she begins to stir, waking up slowly, I watch her stretch, her movements languid and unhurried. And when she turns to smile at me, I can’t help but feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
“Good morning,” I whisper. I set my laptop on the floor and crawl toward her, pulling us both under the sheets.
“Why are you working?” she protests. “It's the holidays.”
“I needed to keep my hands busy so I wouldn’t wake you up again, but I guess I failed.”
The past few nights, I've woken up with an erection strong enough to topple pyramids. I need to bury myself in her to calm down, to soothe the urge, and remind my body that Lauren is still here. But she spent the whole day yawning because I didn’t let her rest. I felt bad and, above all, selfish, even though I always made up for it with orgasms after enduring this insatiable man. How could I ever get enough of her?
“Who said I don’t want to be woken up?” There’s a smile in her voice.
“You should have said so earlier, woman!” I cover our bodies completely and claim hers again.
For the next three days, Lauren Green is completely mine. We shop together, our conversations light and easy. I make her laugh more times than I thought possible, her laughter becoming a sound I want to hear every day. We make love, and sometimes, we lose ourselves in passion—on the marble countertop, in the shower, on the guest bed, on the couch, and even up against the window as the sun sets.
U2 playing softly in the background. Lauren settles into my heart, slipping into place like she was always meant to be there, and I do everything I can to make sure she feels the same. Every look, every touch, every moment with her feels like I’m trying to show her just how deeply she belongs here with me .
But on December thirtieth, almost a week later, I take her back to her apartment. She insists—claims her clothes are no longer wearable and jokes that staying naked all day isn’t a viable option, though I’m not entirely convinced.
When we reach her door, I stop, hesitating on the threshold. I know if I step inside, I won’t be able to leave, won’t be able to stop myself from wanting her all over again.
I kiss her lips gently, lingering for just a second before whispering, “Don't get too attached to this place,” a soft warning hidden in my words.
“Sure, Silas.” She laughs, her eyes darting away from mine, clearly uncomfortable with the intensity in my voice.
“I'll pick you up tomorrow.”
Tomorrow is the company’s New Year’s Eve party. I plan to make an appearance, just enough for the CEO to be seen. But as soon as the clock strikes midnight, I’ll be out of there, racing back to bring her home. Back to my kingdom, where I’ll tie her to my bed and remind her where she belongs.
I spend the day pushing myself to the limit at the gym, trying to burn off this restless energy, but before I know it, my phone is in my hand. Like some lovesick puppy, I find myself texting her.
Silas W:
I'll pick you up at seven.
I wait, watching the screen like it might give me answers. Her reply finally pops up.
Bunny :
Are we going to the party together? People might get the wrong idea.
My eyebrows knit together. Wrong idea?
Silas W:
Since when do I care what other people think? You're my date tonight, whether they like it or not.
There’s a pause, long enough to make me wonder if I came on too strong. Then her reply comes in.
Bunny :
I'll be waiting at 7
I smile, satisfaction settling in. She’ll be with me tonight, and that’s all that matters. The party is at a venue just a few blocks from my apartment, something Stella had started planning, but Lauren finished. Honestly, they nailed it. It’s a shame Stella won’t see the final result, but I’m sure she’s enjoying her last days of pregnancy. Thank God she decided to have that baby, because if she hadn’t, Lauren might never have walked back into my life.
I stand outside her building, waiting. When Lauren finally appears, I have to swallow hard, like a damn animal trying to regain composure.
She’s wearing a dress I’ve never seen before, and I know I haven’t because there’s no way I could forget it. Not in a lifetime. It’s red, form-fitting, hugging her in all the right places. Her bare legs seem endless, sleek, and toned. She’s wearing black heels, and her blonde hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders.
She’s radiant, and she smiles at me—openly, warmly—and that feeling, the one I’ve been trying to keep in check, surges again. Every time she looks at me like that, it’s like I’m the only one standing on this street, the only one in her world .
I’m completely in love with her, and it terrifies me how intense it is. This explosive energy, this urge to have her in every way, is so overwhelming I’m not sure how to control it. I don’t want to scare her off. God knows I’ve already pushed too hard by asking her to move in after just one endless, unforgettable night. I clear my throat, trying to keep it together before I say,
“You're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life, Lauren Green.”
Her ears turn red instantly, her cheeks flushing, and she gives me that shy smile that only makes her more irresistible. “Thank you, Silas. You look amazing, too.”
Pushing off the Mercedes, I close the distance between us in two steps. I gently lift her chin and press the softest kiss I can manage to her lips, though it’s taking all my willpower to keep it controlled. “Fuck the party, come to my apartment,” I growl against her mouth.
Lauren smiles, her lips brushing mine. “And spend New Year’s Eve alone?”
“I don't need anyone else but you.” My voice is low, serious—probably more honest than I’ve ever been with her. Silas Walker knows what he wants, and right now, that’s Lauren.
She laughs lightly, as if I’ve said something amusing, and pulls back just enough to slide into the car. She leaves me standing there, half smiling, half wrecked by the simple fact that I want her more than anything else in this world. Reluctantly, I open her door, and with her usual elegant grace, Lauren settles into the leather seat.
The drive starts in silence, but it doesn’t last long.
“Silas …” she says, her tone different. The kind of tone I don’t like.
I glance at her from the corner of my eye, eyebrows raised, already feeling defensive. “Bunny …” I toss out her nickname, a clear sign I’m on guard, but she doesn’t protest this time.
“I don’t want the office to know about whatever this is,” she says, gesturing between us.
Instantly, my defenses spike and my jaw clenches. “Why not?” My grip tightens around the gearshift, moving it a little too roughly as I try to channel my frustration somewhere .
Is she ashamed of me?
“Because they’ll think badly of me, you know that. What’s more cliché than a secretary sleeping with her boss?”
My foot hits the gas a little harder, and I begin weaving through traffic like a New York City cab driver, the sound of honking horns and distant shouts trailing behind us.
“What are you doing?” she says, gripping the door.
I don’t answer. Instead, I pull up in front of Central Park, slamming the brakes harder than necessary. I yank open the door and march toward the parking meter, jamming my credit card into the slot. The screen asks how long I’ll be staying, but there’s no option for “Until Lauren comes to her senses.” Could be days ...
When I return to the car, she’s looking at me like I’ve completely lost it.
“A secretary sleeping with her boss? Really, Lauren?” I slap my hands on my thighs in disbelief. “Is that all this is to you?”
“Silas … you said it yourself—you don’t do relationships. You’ve told me a thousand times that you just fuck. What am I supposed to think?” Her voice is cautious, but there’s hurt in it, too.
“Yes, but not with you!” I snap, irritated, incredulous that she doesn’t get it. “After everything we’ve been through, do you really think this is just sex? For fuck’s sake, I asked you to move in with me! Does that sound like someone who’s just looking for a fling?”
She’s quiet now, clearly processing my words. I take a breath, forcing myself to lower my tone. I don’t want to yell. Not at her.
“I want you to be mine,” I say, more softly this time. I meet her gaze, and she looks conflicted, like she’s not sure how to feel. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met. What else do I need to say for you to understand that?”
“You’re ... in love ?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes” I admit, and my voice wavers slightly.
She’s silent, processing. “With me?” she repeats, double-checking.
Typical Lauren.
“Yes, Lauren, with you.” I roll my eyes, half-exasperated but mostly overwhelmed by the need to make her understand. “I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. You’re mine, and I’m yours. You always have been my Persephone.”
Lauren’s green eyes meet mine, her lashes fluttering as she processes what I just said. She nods slowly, turning her gaze to the windshield.
“This changes everything … ” she murmurs, almost as if she’s talking to herself, lost in her own thoughts. I don’t interrupt. I just listen, silently grateful to be hearing her inner world.
“Lauren,” I say softly, taking her hand and intertwining our fingers. She glances down at our hands, studying them as if the simple act holds more meaning now. “I know this might sound childish, but I always wanted to ask you back in school—will you be mine?”
A slow smile starts to form on her lips, and I can’t help but mirror it. “Silas, are you sure? A relationship requires a lot of things, and … ” she begins, her voice hesitant.
“Only two things—me and you,” I cut her off gently. “Look, I know I’ve got a bad reputation, but having you in my life, in my bed, it feels right. I was an idiot to push you away when we were kids. I let you go once, but that’s not happening again. In fact, I don’t think you even have a choice at this point.” My voice is teasing, but the sincerity is there, raw and real.
She squeezes my hand, biting her lower lip to hold back a full smile, but I can see it in her eyes. “Yes,” she finally says.
“Yes, what?” I ask, needing to hear the words.
“I want to be yours, Hades,” she replies with a playful smirk, and just like that, everything I’ve wanted for so long feels closer than ever.
My Persephone, finally mine.