Page 25 of Blackmailed to the Altar

Coffee in hand, I returned to my office and grabbed the remote buried beneath the clutter. The large screen on the wall flickered to life, revealing Eden and Mya in the surveillance room. I leaned forward, my pulse quickening as I watched them.

Eden spoke in a soft, strained voice about her nightmare, her words blurring in my ears. It wasn’t Eden I focused on but Mya. The way she leaned in, her nods of understanding, her clasped hands as if she carried the weight of Eden’s pain herself. Shewasn’t just a psychiatrist; she was a lifeline. Not just for Eden, but for me, though I refused to admit it.

My little mouse had become an obsession.

The buzzing in my mind quieted as I zeroed in on her. I told myself I was watching for my gain, for Eden’s progress, but the truth was far murkier. Silas’ name broke through the haze, yanking me back to their conversation.

“He didn’t come to bed last night, and I can’t help but think he’s through with me,” Eden said, her voice cracking.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Mya replied gently, scribbling notes. “Have you tried calling him?”

Eden nodded. “He didn’t answer, which isn’t like him. Silas would always answer if I called.”

“Should I send the men to find him?” My voice cut in through the room’s speaker.

Both women looked up, startled. Eden’s expression softened with hope, while Mya’s sharp gaze locked onto the camera, accusing. She didn’t trust me. She was right not to.

“Do you know where he is, Sebastian?” Eden asked.

I hesitated. “I haven’t seen him all night.”

The statement unsettled me. It felt like a lie even as I spoke it. The dark voice in the back of my mind laughed cruelly: He’s a little tied up at the moment.

My chest tightened. Flashes of memory—shoving Silas down the basement stairs—flickered like static. I moved toward the padlocked door. The tunnels below were a maze; he could’ve gotten lost. My fingers curled around the knob, yanking, but it wouldn’t budge.

A weak pounding echoed from the other side.

“Help me.” Silas’ hoarse voice, barely a whisper, made my stomach churn.

“Silas?” I crouched, peering at the door’s base.

“Let me out of here, you motherfucker,” he rasped. “I said I didn’t mean it.”

The memory crystallized—him watching my little mouse. Fury surged through me, as fresh now as it was then.

“You’re being punished,” I said coldly.

“It was an accident, you psychopath!”

I didn’t flinch at the insult. “I may be a psychopath, but I’m not a peeping Tom.”

Eden’s shocked gasp broke through the moment. I left her at the door, her pleading voice following me, but I didn’t look back.

My little mouse deserved better. Deserved me. And Silas? He deserved whatever was coming to him.

I narrowed my eyes. She wasn’t in charge here. I would wait for her by her bedroom door, so she could remember who had the power. It sure as fuck wasn’t her. I walked up the winding stairs and down the second hallway to her room, conveniently connected to my own.

I could’ve used the primary suite, and kicked my father down to the first floor with his nursing staff, but that wing of the house had been created for my parents to use as often as they liked, and I didn’t have the heart.

Now that the Don was bedridden, this seemed like the best alternative.

But now, I couldn’t wait for the old man to die. He was becoming a liability and an obstacle. The amount of times my men caught some assassin or killer trying to climb through the window during my dad’s recovery…

I stood against the wall alongside her door jamb.

I couldn’t understand my pull to this woman. She wasn't really my type. She had no kids, and I was certain she owned several cats, like a cliche.

“I’m ready.”

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