Page 78 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

Silas doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course,” he says, playing along smoothly. “He’s thorough. Won’t take long.”

Billy’s mom couldn’t look more confused if she tried. “What are they talking about?”

“How much do you think a principal makes?” I ask Silas, touching my chin. “Twenty-thousand a year?”

“Maybe less.” He shrugs.

“I’m curious to see how much our dear Principal Morgan,” I steeple my fingers on her desk and smile sweetly, “has in her account and who from.”

Principal Morgan’s face drains of all color, and I know we’ve hit a nerve.

“You can’t prove anything!” she stammers. “Your father—I mean, Mr. Grayson made a donation to the school. That’s all. That’s not a crime!”

I smirk. “A donation. Sure.”

Silas narrows his eyes, leaning slightly forward, his voice dropping an octave. “Linda,” Silas calls her by her first name, and the principal goes impossibly paler. “If I find out you’ve been bought off, I promise you, I’ll sue this school into the ground.”

She shifts in her seat. “Now, Mr. Waverly, wait a—"

“My son will be back in class tomorrow, and he’ll write his exams like nothing happened.”

I can almost feel the power shift in the room. Silas, calm and unshaken now, is fully in control, and the principal knows it. The parents beside us shift uncomfortably in their chairs.

“Are you on Harvey’s payroll too?” Silas asks the parents, his voice casual but cutting.

The father looks at Silas like he’s insane. “We just want justice for our son,” he says, gesturing to Billy with the black eye again. “We’re not part of your—whatever this is.”

Silas stands, offering his hand to me, which I take without hesitation. The warmth of his touch sends a rush through me, grounding me in a way I didn’t expect.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Silas says, his gaze cutting between the principal and the parents. “But let me be clear: Caleb isn’t violent. And if anyone tries to ruin his future over this, they’ll regret it.” He looks at the kid. “I’m sorry about Billy, but how about we make it so you don’t have to pay a dime for the rest of his education?”

Billy’s eyes go wide. “Like, uh, you would—”

“I’ll take care of it.” Silas stretches a hand to the bald man, who has jumped to his feet. “Are we good, Mr . . . ?”

“Pratchett.” He takes Silas’s hand. “Mr. Rodney Pratchett.”

There’s a fire in Silas’s eyes I’ve never seen before. It’s raw, protective, and undeniably sexy, I can’t lie.

As we leave the office, his hand still firmly around mine, something clicks in my chest. This tired, overworked, ridiculously powerful man—is fighting for his son and me. He’s not backing down, no matter how hard my father pushes or how relentless the press is.

And I realize something as we step out into the hallway, the tension slowly easing from my shoulders.

I never want to be apart from him.

Chapter twenty-eight

Silas

I can feel thetension lifting from Leah’s shoulders when we leave the principal's office. The sky’s shifting to that late-evening purple, the kind of color that makes the world look peaceful.

I’m still fuming, though. Harvey’s playing dirty now, involving Caleb in his grudge match. It’s a low blow.

As I pull out my phone to check the latest reports—more protests outside the studio, great—I notice Leah glancing at me, smiling.

“What’s funny?” I ask, half irritated, half curious.

“That was exhilarating,” she says, grinning wide as if we just pulled off some grand heist instead of convincing a stuffy principal to reconsider suspending my son.

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