Page 69 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

She blushes, throwing a pillow at me. “Shut up. He’s cute, okay? I’ll give you all the details later. But seriously, go rest. You just flew in from London. You look exhausted.”

I manage a weak smile and drag myself up from the couch. “Yeah. Ifeelexhausted.”

She gives me a quick hug before heading off to her room, already rummaging through her closet for date-night clothes.

I walk into my bedroom, kicking off my shoes as I go, and collapse onto the bed. But sleep doesn’t come. All I can think about is Dad’s voice on the phone, the cold threat hanging in the air. What is he going to do?

And why the hell does it terrify me so much?

As I lie there, staring at the ceiling, I go through it all in my mind. Silas. Caleb. Dad. It’s all spiraling out of control. The one thing I know for sure?

I can’t just sit here and do nothing.

Chapter twenty-four

Silas

Waking up in acold sweat, my body feels like it’s been through a war.

There’s no other way to describe it. Tossing and turning all night—maybe because I could still smell Leah’s perfume on my sheets, or perhaps because I knew this mess with Harvey was about to implode—but the second my phone vibrates on the nightstand, any hope of resting vanishes.

I grope for it, still half in that dream where everything is easier, where Leah’s in my arms, and we’re not juggling the impossible. The name on the screen makes my heart drop:Derrick, my lawyer. There’s no way this is good. Derrick never calls unless something is wrong—really wrong.

I rub my eyes, clearing the fog from my brain. My head feels heavy, and my internal clock feels off. I may still be jet-lagged.

“Yeah?” I can’t keep the irritation out of my voice. I’m mad at myself for feeling my age. Still jet-lagged even though I got back from London yesterday? Come on. “Don’t sugarcoat it, Derrick.”

“Uh, you need to check the news, Silas.”

“What the hell for?” I sit up, my back stiff from a night of insufficient sleep. I drag a hand through my hair, already knowing I won’t like whatever comes next.

“Just . . . check it. You’re trending.”

Those are words no one ever likes to hear. My stomach twists. I hang up before he can say more and fumble with my phone, opening up one of the news apps I should’ve deleted months ago.

There it is, plastered all over the place: “SILAS WAVERLY GROOMED LEAH GRAYSON?”My grip on the phone tightens. Articles are flooding in, all speculating that I started seeing Leah when she was a minor. Or at least,barelylegal, twisting the story like some kind of sick fairy tale turned nightmare. And the worst part? Not a single one names a source, but I know exactly where this is coming from.

Harvey.

The smug bastard really did it. He went nuclear.

Fuck.

I throw the phone on the bed and run a hand over my face. I feel sick. My stomach churns with anger, but the edge is fear—fear for Leah—how’s she taking this? A dull throb starts behind my eyes as I force myself to read through more of the articles.

Hashtags are calling for my cancellation. People are calling me a predator. There’s even one about boycottingDarkest Hour.This could ruin the studio before it even gets off the ground.

I grab the phone again, dialing Derrick back. It rings twice before he answers.

“You see it?” Derrick’s voice is cautious now, like he’s bracing himself for the explosion.

“Yeah, I saw it.”

“Look, I—"

“Derrick, this is Harvey’s doing,” I grit out. “Get me a PR agency. We need to spin this before it tanks everything.”

There’s a pause. “What?”

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