Page 48 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

“You ready, Caleb?” Silas asks his son, who hasn’t looked up from his game.

“Uh-huh.”

“Use your words, son.”

“I’m ready, Dad.” He rolls his eyes.

“Remember what I told you?”

“Keep my eyes ahead and don’t make eye contact with the photographers.”

Silas gives him a thumbs up, but Caleb doesn’t notice. I look out the window again. I hate this. Ihatethis so much.

The car slows to a stop near the jet, and I glance out the window again, eyeing the sleek, gleaming white aircraft—Silas’s jet.

“Come on,” Silas says, breaking me from my thoughts as he opens the door and steps out. Caleb follows right behind, nose buried in his phone. He has his dad's striking blue eyes but with no interest in the world around him. Just the screen in front of him.

I take a deep breath and adjust my scarf before stepping out, immediately hit by the crisp coolness of the evening. Cameras flash even more now, though the tinted windows and my sunglasses keep me relatively anonymous. For now.

Silas offers me his arm, and I take it. Not because I need it, but because I know we’re putting on a show. For the cameras. For the world.

I keep my head low as we make our way to the jet. Silas’s holding me and Caleb, leading us to the jet. Questions are being fired from all angles, but we remain silent.

“You don’t get nervous flying, do you?” he murmurs as we approach the stairs leading up to the jet.

“Please.” I keep my voice steady, but inside, my stomach twists. He has no idea. Flying’s never been my thing.

But I don’t tell him that.

I don’t tell him that whenever a plane lifts off, my mind spirals back to memories of flying with my mom in Dad’s jet—her holding my hand when I was younger, calming me when the turbulence hit. Those moments are etched into me, the only solace in the air.

And now? Now, I’m alone in that.

We step inside the aircraft. Of course, it screams wealth; leather seats, polished interiors, gold accents. The kind of plane that makes you feel like you should apologize just for walking on board. It's like stepping into a magazine spread for the ultra-elite, which I am, even though sometimes, I forget that.

Caleb finds his seat near the front, already settling in with his game, while Silas and I take our places further back, the large, plush leather seats more like thrones than anything you’d expect on a plane.

“You okay?”

I nod. “I’m good.”

I let my hand trail over the armrest, trying to focus on anything other than that we’ll be hurtling through the air soon enough. Silas’s presence beside me is comforting in a way I didn’t expect. I shouldn’t find it comforting. I shouldn’t be leaning on him for any sort of stability.

But then the engines roar to life, and my heart skips a beat. My hand grips the armrest a little too tightly.

The plane lurches forward, picking up speed as it races down the runway. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself not to think about it, not to panic. The memories of my mom flood back again. The way she used to calm me when the fear bubbled up.

And then I feel it. Silas’s hand covering mine. Warm, steady, grounding.

I glance at him, my sunglasses sliding just enough to meet his gaze. He says nothing, just holds my hand as the plane lifts off, the ground falling away beneath us.

I don’t say thank you. But I don’t pull my hand away, either.

The flight is quiet for the most part. Caleb is absorbed in his game, barely even looking up as we soar through the clouds. Silas and I sit side-by-side in silence, the hum of the engines the only thing between us.

But then, Silas turns to me, his face unreadable. “Leah,” he says softly, “We need to talk.”

Is this about the engagement and the complications of us being physical?I don’t want to talk about that.“About what?”

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