Page 72 of Ugly Truths
The insufferable gossip article would have been easy to ignore if not for the photos that tinted my vision red. Picture after picture showed Silas and Alice at the bar. One had him smiling at her with an easy, charming grin. Another showed her tilting her glass toward him in a subtle toast. What pushed me over the edge was the shot of her leaning into him, hand curled around his bicep, laughing like they’re sharing some private joke.
Funnily enough, this interaction didn’t make it into any part of our conversation when he got home at two in the morning.
“Beth, I think I have an emergency,” Silas says, eyes locked on me. “I’ll give you a call this afternoon if I have any notes, but overall, this looks great. Good work.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. Just closes the laptop and sets it on the far edge of his desk. Then, taking his sweet time, he leans back in his chair and turns to face me head-on.
Those curious, coffee eyes scan me from top to toe. “What’s wrong?”
My fingers curl tighter around my phone. I can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Words are beyond me. This feeling is a living, breathing thing under my skin, demanding to be acknowledged. The onslaught of fury burns so brightly that it makes my eyes water.
I’ve never allowed myself to feel it, especially not with Silas. I didn’t have the right to claim to him before, no matter how badly I wanted to.
But it’s different now.
I inhale deeply, roll my shoulders back, and fix a smile on my face that doesn’t quite mask the storm raging beneath.
“Remind me again,” I start, placing my phone on the corner of his desk with more force than necessary. The sharpthuddraws his eyes to it before they flick back up to mine. “How was last night?”
Confusion passes across his face, but it’s gone quickly, replaced by that infuriatingly calm expression. His gaze sweeps over my disheveled braid. Wild frizz escapes from it, and the unmistakable flush of anger burns on my skin.
“Uneventful,” he says, far too measured.
My pulse pounds in my ears.Motherfucker.
I close the distance between us and lower myself onto him, bracketing his hips with my knees. My rash guard and biker shorts are damp with residual sweat, ruining his slacks and collared shirt. He blinks rapidly, but his hands remain on the arms of his chair.
I lean in slowly, so close that our chests brush, my lips barely grazing his in a featherlight touch while threading my fingers into the base of his soft curls. His breath hitches, but he still waits.
“How was Alice?” I hiss, voice sharp as a blade.
Silas stiffens for just a moment before relaxing beneath me. Then he dares to let out a low chuckle.
A fuckingchuckle.
“She was at the club with some friends,” he explains. “We ended up at the bar at the same time.”
He moves to touch my waist, but my hands snap to his forearms, slamming them down against the armrests. The impact echoes through the study.
His teasing demeanor shifts just enough to send a pulse of electricity through the air. “Careful, Lena.”
I ignore the warning, my heart hammering as I press closer. “She really seemed to be enjoying herself,” I say, biting off each word. “My favorite photo was the one where she’s holding onto your arm.”
There’s a long moment of contemplation, his tongue running over his top teeth. Beneath my grip, his muscles flex, testing the restraint, but he doesn’t push. We both know he could move me in an instant.
“You, of all people, know better than to read into gossip magazine photos,” Silas provokes, though his voice is smooth as silk. Just as the final word leaves his lips, he’s leaning forward to close the gap between our mouths. I retreat a fraction of an inch. His smile deepens.
He thinks this is a game.
My insides churn as I reach for the knot of his tie, toying with the fabric between my fingers. Then, wrapping the tail around my palm once, then twice, I tug him forward with slow, deliberate precision.
Our noses brush, his breath warm against my lips. A low vibration rumbles deep in his chest. I can’t tell if it’s a growl or a hum of approval, but it sends a rush of heat down my spine anyway.
“I understand to the outside world, I don’t exist,” I whisper, my voice eerily calm. “Butin this house, Ido.”
His muscles contract beneath me.
“You chose to hold on to me, Silas Wells.” Our chests are flush now, my frustration shaking his body almost as much as it’s shaking mine. “And we agreed on monogamy.”
