“I do now.”
There was a beat of silence. And then—God help me—I laughed. Not a happy laugh. Not a soft, flirty one. A sharp sound, brittle and disbelieving.
“So that’s it? You blow up my professional boundaries, try to erase my presence from the biggest job of my career, and then show up here like some kind of tortured antihero with an apology and sad eyes?”
His jaw flexed. “It’s not like that.”
Oh, but it felt like that.
And maybe that was the worst part. Because I hadn’t just let Silas Dane touch me—I’d wanted it. Needed it. I’d softened for him like I had nothing to lose, climbed onto him and surrendered every inch of myself like it wouldn’t come back to haunt me.
The way he’d pulled my panties aside like he didn’t have time for anything else. The way his mouth had dragged over my skin—hungry, reverent, feral. He didn’t just take me. He wrecked me. Lifted me over the worktable, shoved my skirt up, and gripped my hips like I was something to be claimed. My back had arched into him before I could stop it. I’d come apart faster than I ever had in my life.
It wasn’t romance. It wasn’t tender.
It was possession.
And I’d let it happen. Let him see me like that—raw, breathless, begging with my body even when my mind tried to stay in control.
Afterward, when my knees were still shaking and my lipstick was somewhere on the floor, I’d looked up at him, expecting—what? A smile? A word? A sliver of acknowledgment that he’d just touched something deeper than skin?
Now he was standing in my room, and I was furious.
He just stood there, watching me with those stormcloud eyes, like he was the one who had something to lose.
I stepped forward, fury buzzing under my skin. “Do you even understand what this job is? What it costs me to be here?”
I didn’t wait for a response.
“I have spent years—years, Silas—building something from the ground up. No funding. No famous last name. No legacy to ride on. Just me. Hustling, making magic happen with nothing but a spreadsheet and a damn good poker face. And you wanted me to walk away from the biggest event of my career?”
My voice cracked, but I didn’t back down.
“This job? It’s not just six weddings. It’s a fucking symphony of logistics and beauty and diplomacy. And yeah—your brothers want parachutes and stealth boats and smoke grenades, but the women? They want elegance. Meaning. Magic. And I’m the only one in this damn country who can give them both.”
I jabbed a finger toward him.
“And that deserves to be in my portfolio, Silas. On my website. In magazines. In the hands of every A-list bride.”
My chest was heaving, hands clenched.
“I thought …” He looked away. “I thought it would be safer if you left.”
“For who?” I asked. “Me? Or you?”
That made his gaze snap back to mine. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I took a step closer. “Ask the questions you won’t answer?”
Another step. Close enough now that the heat between us was magnetic, dragging, dangerous.
“You want to protect me?” I whispered. “Then don’t make me collateral damage.”
He grabbed my wrist. Not rough. Not gentle. Just enough to make my breath catch.
“You’re not collateral.”
And then he kissed me.
