Page 80 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

“Yes…”

He checks a very expensive-looking watch on his wrist and glances up at me. “And I assume Silas has told you that he renounced his inheritance and doesn’t have a fucking dime to his name anymore.”

That certainly isn’t what the contract I signed suggests, but there is clearly far more going on with the Boltons than Silas or Ronald ever let me know.

I take a sip of my coffee as I try to assess the man sitting across from me.

He’s up to something.

Maybe he came to rattle me, or more than likely, he came to rattle Silas. Either way, I’m not going to let it happen. I may not be thrilled with the way Silas has been acting, but I am not about to let this old man walk in here and intimidate me or threaten the only person who has shown me any true kindness and affection in a very long time.

I rest my elbows on the table, squaring my shoulders and doing my best to appear unfazed by his clear intimidation tactics. “Look, Mr. Bolton, I don’t know what you expected to find here. If you want to talk with Silas, I suggest you start making your way back down the mountain. You’ll cross paths with him, eventually. There’s only one way up and one way down.”

A sinister grin spreads slowly across his lips, the kind that screamsyou’re in troubleto anyone with any common sense. “Oh, I’m well aware of how remote and trapped you are up here, sweetheart. Well aware.”

His words wrap around my spine like a sinister hand ready to snap it.

It’s a threat, a very real one.

And I’m up here alone with no way to protect myself.

ChapterTwelve

LYLA

Itighten my grip on the coffee mug. Unless I’m going to risk trying to get to the knives in the drawer on the far side of the kitchen, this is the closest thing I have to a weapon if I need one.

And something tells me I might.

The menacing glint in Uncle Marty’s eyes shines brightly at me, the man taking great pleasure in making me squirm. He waits and watches, searching for any signs that he’s gotten under my skin with his comment.

I won’t give him that satisfaction.

Calmly taking a sip of my coffee to test how hot it still is, I watch him over the rim of the mug. He takes a drink of his as well, never breaking eye contact with me. We both know whoever ends the stare-down will be the loser and have given the other a victory neither of us can afford to lose.

Not looking away, I push up from the table, nudging my chair back with my thighs. “While I’ve enjoyed our chat, Mr. Bolton, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Feigning surprise at my request for him to exit, he glances down into his mug. “But I haven’t finished my coffee yet.”

“Oh”—I give him a sweet smile the man is surely intelligent enough to grasp isn’t real—“we’re definitely done here.”

He pushes to his feet, the corners of his mouth lifting. “My nephew must like you.”

The words make me stumble slightly on my way around the table.

I shouldn’t ask, but the question comes out before I can bite it back. “Why do you say that?”

A low chuckle slips from his lips, and he takes one large drink from his coffee before answering, setting the mug on the table and turning toward me. “Because you do something he never could—you fight back.” He takes a step closer until I can smell his cloyingly strong aftershave. “That’s how I prefer it. I could have some real fun with you.”

Any question ofwhoandwhatMarty is evaporates in an instant, replaced by the cold, sheer certainty of knowing exactly how Silas got the scars.

This man standing in front of me is a monster. The kind that will haunt your awake hours and nightmares every day of your life once you’ve been touched by his sinister hands. Given the opportunity, he wouldn’t think twice about hurting me the same way he did Silas.

I quickly dart around him to the front door, tugging it open and stepping into the jamb so I can run out onto the property, maybe to the barn where I can find a weapon better than this mug of now-lukewarm coffee if this asshole tries anything. “Go.”

He slowly saunters toward me, unbuttoning his jacket like he’s getting ready to do something athletic and needs it loose. His gaze travels up and down me as he steps out onto the porch, intentionally brushing his shoulder against me on his way. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to leave yet…”

“Get off my property.”

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