Page 27 of Ex- Factor
“And none of your friends have been here? Like, ever?” I turned to stare at him. “Not even Ekon?”
He smirked. “Nope. I have a condo in downtown Saint Pete. I got this a couple years ago as part of my inheritance.” He cut the engine and turned to me. “I just never wanted to bring anybody but you here. Ekon can’t appreciate it.”
I wanted to ask him why I earned these privileges, but instead I asked,
“Why are you always at my house when you got this?” I shook my head. “You don’t make no damn sense.”
“Because you’re there.”
He got out before I could respond. But I didn’t even know what I would have said.
He popped the trunk, grabbed my bag, opened the car door for me, helped me out, and wheeled it through the massive front doors.
“Come on.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me into a foyer.
The inside looked exactly how I expected. Big. Clean. Expensive. Marble floors. Abstract art on the walls. A kitchen that probably cost more than my student loans. He showed me each room, but he didn’t stop until he hit the master bedroom.
“This is where we’ll be sleeping.”
I looked around. His master bedroom looked like it belonged in a magazine—wide, open space with soft gray walls, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a bed big enough to swallow a person whole. The furniture was all sleek and low, dark wood and leather. It fit him. It smelled like him.
“You got six other bedrooms in this house. I don’t get my own?”
“No,” he said, rolling my bag into the corner like I’d already agreed. “I’m used to sleeping with you now.”
“Mostly on the weekends,” I reminded him, giving him side-eye. “What do you do when you’re alone?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Insomnia.”
“That’s why you sleep like the dead on the weekends?”
He nodded. I didn’t say anything else back, just watched him unpack my stuff like he was living for this moment. He refolded what needed to be refolded and hung the rest.
Later, we were in the kitchen, half-cooking, half-playing around with ingredients because Silas didn’t believe in recipes and was goofy. I was standing at the stove stirring a concoction of ground beef, mashed potatoes, and gravy that he swore would taste good once baked with cheese.
I wanted to be nosy and ask him how much he was worth. And why the hell he had all this and was chasing me. We were obviously from two very different worlds.
The question came out of my mouth before I stopped it. “If I give in to your little delusion and become your girl,” Iteased, “and we get married… how much money do I get access to?” I turned to face him, back to the stove.
He grinned over his glass of wine. “I’ll deposit half of forty-two million into your account tonight if you agree to marry me now.”
I blinked hard, my mouth falling open. “Forty-two million? That’s a lot of money. I was kidding. You shouldn’t tell women that upfront. One might take you for everything you got.”
He didn’t say anything right away. His grin faded. His eyes softened. He stood and walked over, leaning at the waist until he met me eye to eye, close enough I breathed in the breaths he took. His eyes locked with mine. “I would give it all to you, Eshe. Can I kiss you again?”
I blinked again as my heart sped up and butterflies went crazy in my stomach. I wanted to say yes.
“No. Because you’ll think I said yes because you offered me my weight in gold.”
He laughed, low under his breath. “Fair.” He didn’t move though, and his closeness had my nipples tightening.
I cleared my throat and pushed him away. It was ridiculous how much he affected my body and heart no matter how many times I tried to remain indifferent.
Donte had been on demon time, but Silas? Silas was something quieter. More dangerous. Patient. I’m scared of saying yes to him because what if he really means everything he says? Am I healed enough not to ruin a man like him?
Because he’s good—better than I think he even realizes. He oozes loving, caring energy. But there’s a sadness behind his smile, tucked beneath all that charm. And I don’t want to be the one to add to it.
“So,” I said, sidestepping him and leaning against the counter, breaking the chemistry between us, “what movie are we watching tonight, rich boy?”
