Page 46 of Natasha
Natasha tilted her chin up in a show of defiance. "Well, I'm not scared of him."
Silas' lips twitched up in a smile as he set her phone down on the counter. "And you're never going to have to be, because I'm going to take care of it. You're my little girl, Tash. You're with me. I protect you. End of story."
"I can take care of myself. I've done it my whole life."
"Not anymore, you don't," Silas replied. He shook his head and then ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to have someone come and stay with you while I take care of this."
"But what? Where are you going?" Natasha hesitantly moved toward him but stopped when she was a foot away. She was at war with herself. On the one hand, she wanted to thank him for doing what he was doing, for bringing her here and for making her feel utterly protected and cared for, but there was another part of her that was screaming at him to stay—to not make her worry. It was like she was being torn in two, and she hated every second of it. When Silas didn't answer her question, she fixed her stare on him. "Don't leave me alone. Please."
"I'm not, baby girl." Silas crossed the remaining space. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "I'm not going to be gone long. You'll be here where I know you're safe, and when I get back, I'll take you for dinner, okay? Wherever you'd like to go."
"I'm not hungry," she whispered, leaning against him.
"You will be," Silas rumbled, his hands sliding down to rub her back. "Or else."
"Or else what?" she asked, her voice muffled by the material of his shirt.
"You'll see." Silas' hands drifted down to give her bottom a light swat. He pulled back and winked at her. "Just be a good girl for me and wait here. Don't make Daddy worry."
Natasha frowned, but she nodded anyway. "Fine. I-I'll wait for you. Promise me you'll be careful."
He held up three fingers. "Scout's honor."
Natasha couldn't help her giggle at Silas' gesture. Leaning forward, she kissed him quickly. "Who's coming to stay? Sam?" she guessed hopefully. There had been something so open and friendly about the other man that Natasha had instantly felt comfortable with him. She could imagine a comfortable night of watching a movie with Sam until Silas returned. It could even be fun, really, instead of nerve-wracking.
"Sorry, baby, Sam's out of town." Silas frowned and squeezed her shoulders. "The person coming is not a friend, but he owes me."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that while I don't care for him too much, I do trust that he will honor his word and his debt. He's always been worth that much to me, at least, and I trust him to take care of you, but I want you to stay in the bedroom while he's here."
"He?" Natasha raised an eyebrow. Why did she have to stay in the bedroom the whole time? Suddenly, her thoughts of a fun, movie-filled night were turned on their heads with the image of an intimidating stranger sitting outside of the bedroom door while she huddled under the covers of Silas' bed.
"Yes, he. And you've already met him."
"I did?"
Silas gave her a curt nod. "At my fight."
Natasha searched her memory of all the people she met that night with a frown. "But I didn't meet a—" She stopped short when her memories lit upon one individual. The man with the scar. The man who had talked to her.
"James?" she whispered, hating the slight tremor in her voice.
"Regrettably," Silas muttered. He scrubbed a hand over his face and gave a heavy sigh. "I don't like it, but I trust him, with Sam out of town. He'll fight to keep you safe, baby."
Natasha nodded along with Silas, but then she paused, caught off guard by Silas' words. "What? Wait, what you do you mean he'll fight to keep me safe? Why would he have to fight? What aren't you telling me?"
Silas' mouth thinned into a tight line. "Peachtree crossed a line today."
Natasha crossed her arms, although she really felt like stomping her foot in frustration at Silas dragging this out. "Meaning?"
He turned away from her and stalked toward the windows that faced Central Park. He was quiet for a moment, with his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Fucker told me he was going to pay you a visit."
"He didn't mean it." Natasha waved a hand and leaned back against the counter.
"Said he wasn't gonna be alone when he saw you."
She looked up from the counter at him in surprise. "What?"
