Chapter 30
Ivy gasped, stepping back as if Silas was a wild animal about to pounce. And maybe he was—because deep down, he couldn’t deny the primal urge to ravish her.
“You…. need to leave,” she said firmly, though her voice wobbled, and her cheeks turned scarlet.
Silas lingered by the door, letting his gaze do the talking. God, she was beautiful. His eyes dropped to the curve of her chest, and as he remembered how her juice had stained his trousers, he instantly became hard.
“Silas, please!” she urged. The desperation, the vulnerability in her eyes made him just want to stride toward her, claim her seductive lips, spread her legs, and take her.
But he was no animal. He was a civilized man. And it was that piece of civility–the remaining of his self–control–that held him back. He didn’t even know why he’d come here in the first place. All he knew was that he had to.
After their kiss earlier, he’d thought that when Thomas and the others left, they might continue from where they’d stopped. Maybe he could even convince her to let him take things further.
But when she pushed him away, it had surprisingly hurt him. He wasn’t a womanizer, but the few women he’d been with had never Jurned him down. Nobody turned him down.
Except this one. His wife.
The one with the haunting green eyes.
He stepped forward, and she flinched, backing away further. Her reaction almost made him chuckle out loud.
“I just want to talk, and drop this,” he waved the new phone he just got her.
Her nose flared, and her eyes narrowed. “You can do that when I’m fully dressed.”
Her face instantly radiated with regret as she realized what she’d said.
The mention of her being almost naked made his blood sizzle. “I can always talk when you’re completely naked as well,” he teased.
“That’s not funny,” she snapped.
He chuckled. “I’m sorry.” It was when he saw her face–the sheer discomfort in her eyes did he stop chuckling.
What was wrong with him? Guilt seeped into his chest.
First, he’d confessed how she made him feel–how he loses his head and composure around her. Then her rejection had stung him, and now here he was, staring at her wrapped in a towel, clearly making her uncomfortable.
Heat burned his cheeks, and his shoulders slumped as he finally gave into regret. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave.” Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked out of her room.
“What the hell, Silas?” he muttered to himself as he headed to the living room. He was embarrassed of his actions, embarrassed of his feelings.
He sank into the couch just as a maid in uniform passed by. “Bring me a bottle of vodka,” he ordered without looking up.
Maybe if he sharpened his emotions with alcohol, he might get better use of them.
The maid soon returned with a bottle and a glass. She pulled out a table, placed them gingerly on it and left. Silas dragged the table closer, poured himself a drink, and took a long sip.
Maybe Ivy was angry at him. But would an angry woman have kissed him like that? Pressed her body against his?
Even if she was, it was justified. He’d made major decisions without her, like moving their wedding up to three days away. Recalling the shock on her face when he’d told her haunted him a little.
He thought fulfilling the obligations of the contract–saving Thomas’s reputation–was paramount. But in doing so, he had neglected Ivy’s emotions. The realization left a sadness in his chest.
He would make it up to her, he vowed. Reaching for his phone, he dialed Rachel’s number,
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11:52 AM
Chapter 30
She picked up immediately. “Hello, sir.”
“Hi Rachel,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “What’s a good way to spoil my wife–besides clothes and jewelry?”
Rachel sounded taken aback. “Uh… something expensive, sir?”
“Yes.”
“You could give her the Panther,” Rachel suggested. “Or a holiday trip to someplace nice.”
Silas’s eyes glinted with delight. “How about both?”
The Panther was the most expensive car he had created–elegant, powerful, sleek. It was one of his best sellers and he knew Ivy would love it.
“I don’t know her favorite color yet,” he continued. “But have the Panther ready in white until I find out. And book two weeks in the Maldives, Italy–anywhere romantic.”
“Right away, sir,” Rachel replied. “Anything else?”
“That’s all. Thanks, Rachel.” He hung up.
As he sipped, his mind wandered. He couldn’t wait to see Ivy’s face when she saw the car. A feeling of dissatisfaction followed as he realized he had to do more.
Then it struck him. She’d looked uncomfortable when Thomas mentioned her family. Maybe she hadn’t told them about the sudden wedding? He could call her father right now and invite him. The thought filled him with delight.
Reaching for his phone again, he called Rachel back.
“Hello, Rachel. Can you find Patrick Scott’s number for me?”
“Of course, sir.”
Moments later, a message popped up with the number. He dialed the line.
The line rang three times before it was picked.
“Yes?” Patrick Scott’s voice was impatient and harsh.
“Hello, Mr. Scott. This is Silas Stone,” Silas said evenly.
There was a long silence before Patrick replied. “What do you want?”
Silas was stunned by the unwelcoming tone, but he didn’t let that shake him. “As you know, I am officially married to your daughter, Ivy,” he said, pride welling in his voice. “We’re having our wedding in three days, and I wanted to personally invite you before she does.”
Patrick scoffed followed by a small laugh. “Did she put you up to this? Did she ask you to call me?“.
“What? No,” Silas said, his voice filled with confusion. “She didn’t put me up to anything, this was my idea. I just wanted to invite you first before she does. I know the wedding is happening so quickly which is why I-”
“Well, I don’t care!” Patrick snapped, cutting him off. “I know what you people are about. Using vulnerable women-
“Excuse me?” Silas interjected, his tone sharp.
“I really don’t care if you’re using her. I don’t care about your wedding–soon or not. You can have her. I disowned that girl already. She’s no daughter of mine.”
Silas froze, stunned by Patrick’s words. How could a father speak about his child like that?
Anger rose in his chest as he realized he was talking about Ivy–his Ivy!
“I don’t know what your problem is, but you will not speak about Ivy that way.” His voice trembled, the alcohol in his system adding to
his anger.
Patrick fell silent, then spoke coldly. “Have a good day, Silas Stone.” The line went dead.
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Chapter 30
Silas stared at his phone in disbelief.
What just happened? His mind raced with confusion.
It was then it dawned on him: aside from knowing Ivy was Mason’s ex–wife, loved photography, had an aunt named May, and a father who owned restaurants, he knew almost nothing personally about her.
His blood simmered as his phone buzzed. Rachel was calling again.
“What?” he asked, keeping his anger in check.
“Sir,” Rachel said, her voice tense. “Mr. Dylan Wright is in your office. He… says he has to see you.”
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