Page 5 of Guilty Pleasures

“Hang up. Now!” I demand, my voice sharp and unwavering.

Silas’s eyes widen for a fleeting moment, a crack in his composed façade before they narrow into steely slits. “I’ll have to call you back,” he mutters into the receiver, his voice suddenly calm and measured. He places the phone down with exaggerated care as if handling a delicate artifact while keeping his gaze locked on mine.

“To what do I owe this charming interruption?” Silas asks, leaning back in his leather chair.

“Cut the crap, Silas. I know what you’re doing.” My voice trembles with barely contained rage, my hands clenched tightly at my sides.

He raises an eyebrow with a look of feigned innocence. “And what, pray tell, am I doing?” His voice is smooth, each word dripping with calculated calm.

“You’re trying to sabotage my store for no good reason. So, you don’t like the color? Are you a child?” I spit out the words. “Cyrus Williams’s sudden interest in my lease, and I know this leads back to you.”

Silas’s face remains impassive, but I catch a flicker of something in his eyes. Amusement? Or is it guilt? “That’s quite an accusation, Harper. Do you have any proof?”

I clench my fists so tightly that my knuckles turn white and bluff, “Yes, I have proof, and I’m prepared to use it. You won’t get away with it.” My voice is steady, but my heart races.

Silas stands up and slowly comes around from behind his desk, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over me. “You do not. Your poker face stinks,” he retorts, his voice dripping with condescension that ignites a fiery anger within me.

The room feels charged with tension. Before I can stop myself, a surge of adrenaline propels me forward, and I reach out to shove him, my palms colliding with his chest with a forceful thud.

Caught by surprise, he quickly loses his balance and tumbles over a chair, landing flat on his ass.

I’m mortified, but too furious to help him to his feet.

“Jesus Christ, Brooks. And you calledmea child.”

I stand over him, my chest heaving with anger as I stare at him sprawled on the floor. His expensive suit is rumpled, his perfectly coiffed hair mussed. I should feel satisfied seeing him like this, but his laughter fuels my rage.

“You think this is funny?” I spit out.

Silas sits up, an infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “Oh, come on, Harper. You have to admit, it’s a little amusing. You just lost your cool like a spoiled teenage brat who didn’t get her way.”

I resist the urge to literally kick him while he’s down. “You think you can just toy with people’s lives and get away with it? This is my first business. I’ve poured time, sweat, and tears into doing this on my own, but if you force my hand, I’ll show you just how childish I can be.”

Silas stands up slowly, brushing off his suit. “I’m a businessman, Harper. It’s what I do. This isn’t personal.”

“You’re a monster,” I hiss. “And your ridiculous hotel is a gaudy and overpriced flophouse.”

Silas, a grown man pushing forty, gasps loudly at the insult to his precious jewel of a hotel. “Flophouse? La Belle Epoque is the number one hotel in New York. Kings, queens, presidents, and dignitaries choose to stay at my hotel?—”

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “Oh, stop bragging about that eyesore. I only chose my location because I got a bargain on it. No one wants to be so close to your snotty clientele, constant security checks, and traffic barricades because some problematic diplomat is in town.”

Silas steps closer, invading my personal space.

I refuse to back down, glaring up at him.

“Why are you here?” he says softly. “You seem capable enough to handle whatever roadblocks I throw your way.”

I’m unsure if he’s mocking or daring me to do something crazy.

I try to keep my breathing steady as Silas takes another step toward me, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. The air between us feels charged, electric, but I’d like to believe my heart has somehow confused rage for passion.

Silas chuckles softly, clearly enjoying my state. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers graze my cheek, and I’m forced to suppress a shiver.

“That’s incredibly insulting and just what I’d expect from someone like you.” I step back, hoping to save face by retreating from his orbit.

“No insult intended,” Silas says, his voice low and husky. You’re a colossal pain in my ass, but you can’t deny there’s something more than animosity between us.” A knowing smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. “I see how you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

“You’re insane and obviously projecting.” Heat rushes to my cheeks. Am I really that transparent?

---