Presuming anything was a deadly game. For my heart, anyway. Reading too much into last night and the way he’d treated me, how he’d fucked me or rather... what itreallyfelt like—making love—was... a goddamn recipe for disaster.
Too much of me wanted to believe in this being more than a casual fling. Silas’s hell bent steps in trying to keep me safe, and going out of his way to do so, wasn’t something mere hookups did.
Why spend the extra effort when he knew he’d get me back in bed, eventually?
He didn’t need to woo me when I was all too willing to dress up pretty for him and be thrown over his shoulder as he carried me into his house.
There was no reason for it outside of himactuallycaring about my well being. This went beyond a doctor’s oath.
But bringing that up into a conversation was a terrifying beast to face. I’d been met with rejection plenty of times in my life, though this time felt completely different. My thick skin was now paper thin. My heart was beating in the palm of my hands and I was scared to extend it out to the one I wanted to take it from me.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I finally said.
Not entirely a lie.
As long as I sounded normal, I could keep pretending everything was fine and not at all hanging on a razor’s edge. Imploding this very delicatethingbetween us was the worst decision I could be contemplating making, anyway.
And yet, that’s all that I wanted to do. Poke the bear and see how fast it swung at me.
Would Silas reject me gently or would it be like everything else with him?
Harsh and sudden?
“Hmm,” was the answering rumble.
If he heard the loud thumping in my chest, he said nothing. Just simply let out another soft sigh before rubbing his cheek over the spot to settle again.
Oh my god, I couldn’t take this. I was ten seconds away from actually exploding.
“The decor in your house was keeping me up,” I blurted.
He paused, and then said in a baffled reply, “What?”
“The white leather furniture. The art deco paintings in the hallway. The gold hardware in your bathroom? What is with all of that? It’s so not your style.”
He shifted again, just enough to tilt his head back to catch my gaze with his own. His eyes were so pretty half-lidded with sleep. Softer, unguarded. “And what exactlyismy style?”
A question for the ages, really. Like I had any clue what I was talking about. The man was an enigma wrapped in expensive fabric and surrounded by even more expensive things. Every move was deliberate, every choice so precise that it felt impossible to pin him down.
Living in a space like thisshould’vemade sense.
Yet, nothing in this house felt like him at all.
It dripped with refinement, each detail so meticulously chosen that it almost felt sterile. The furniture, the art, even the placement of the lighting—it all seemed carefully curated to project a certain image.
It wasn’t just opulence, it was a declaration of status that most people around here could only dream of. Ellington Heightswas a rich town but there was always going to be a stark difference between new money and generational wealth.
This house was a picture perfect example. Except, it didn’t feel lived in. Not really.
The leather chairs didn’t have that worn-in softness you’d expect from something well loved. The walls were painted in rich, muted tones—deep grays and soft taupes—that exuded sophistication but lacked warmth. Abstract art hung in perfectly spaced intervals, each piece subtle enough not to overwhelm but striking enough to catch your eye.
It was a home that didn’t feel like one at all. It felt more like a museum, a gallery of perfection, that left no room for flaws or personality. Like the backdrop to some fancy dinner party.
It hit me then, a pang of realization that settled somewhere deep in my chest.
Maybe Silas wasn’t as out of reach as I’d once believed. Maybe all of this—the perfection, the control, the carefully chosen marks of wealth—wasn’t for him at all. Maybe it was some kind of armor. A shield against whatever vulnerability lay underneath.
There was something profoundly lonely about it. The silence here wasn’t the kind that invited warmth and a bid for connection. It echoed isolation and solitude.
