Page 118 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

ChapterNineteen

LYLA

The longer we’ve stayed in Pittsburgh, the more agitated Silas has become.

For the last four days, he’s been a quivering ball of nerves—far worse than anything I witnessed up on the mountain.

Pacing the penthouse suite.

Running his hands through Whiskey’s fur incessantly.

Tugging at his own hair until he practically rips it out.

Obsessively poring over his father’s journal, trying to memorize the information within it until I finally had to take it from him because reading and re-reading the horrific things his uncle has done has only made his anxiety worse.

And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been feeling it, too.

Even touching base with Attorney Fields again, introducing him to Silas, letting him know I’d get him the funds he needed for the expert, and finally connecting with Joey on the phone couldn’t dispel my anxiety, either.

Too much is at stake.

It all comes down to today and Silas’ ability to convince seven people that they need to overthrow the man who has been the number two at the company for over thirty years.

Setting foot in Bolton Steel again still brings the same sense of dread it did the first time, evening knowing we now have ammunition against Marty. That one little book holds the key to ending his reign of terror. It also holds the pain of so many people.

But one name is absent.

Silas’ father left what was done to his son out of his confession—though we still don’t know whether that was to protect himself from judgment or Silas from having his trauma exposed.

I’d love to believe the latter, given the note he wrote to his son, but the selfish actions of the man over the years he could have been protecting Silas make me question his intent as much as his sincerity.

And looking at Silas today, dressed in a dark-gray suit, you’d never guess what he’s suffered. He appears every bit the Bolton he is—save for the long hair tied back and the hints of ink around his neck and hands.

For the first time, it also appears that hefeelslike it. He doesn’t even glance at the lobby receptionist who gave us so much trouble last time, just stalks past her like he owns the place—which, I guess, technically, he does at least halfway.

Whiskey trots beside him, ignoring the woman completely.

I scowl at her to make sure she understands that the potential new CEO of Bolton Steel will be firing her if he gets the job he’s asking for today. She averts her gaze to something on the desk rather than look at me, and I can’t fight the smile of satisfaction, despite what we’re about to walk into upstairs.

Another potential bloodbath.

But at least this time, there aren’t any more secrets for Marty to try to use against Silas and me. We’re ready for anything he might throw at us, any twisted game he tries to play.

We’re ready.

We’re ready.

We’re ready.

I keep telling myself that as we enter the elevator, hands clutched tightly together for the ride up, the journal in Silas’ other one. It’s the only evidence we have after contacting Ronald’s wife and secretary, who were never able to find anything he might’ve left for us.

Whatever happened to him—whether it truly was a heart attack or something more sinister—it happened before he could prepare anything to alert them about what we needed. And someone ensured nothing was left behind that could incriminate Martin Bolton.

The ding indicating we’ve reached the tenth floor sounds. I lean closer to Silas, wishing we had one more minute alone so I could give him a pep talk. “You can do this.”

I feel like a broken record, yet each time I say the words, I hope he believes them a little more. But Silas is so focused on his mission that he barely acknowledges I’ve said anything before the doors slide open and he steps out onto the expensive marble.

Whiskey’s entire demeanor shifts as we approach the conference room to see the man who so easily derailed us the last time we were here.

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