Daniel leans in closer, lowering his voice as if we’re now conspirators. His brown eyes, now more noticeable up close, flicker with hesitation. His perfectly slicked-back hair is so stiff that for a split second, I imagine reaching out just to see if it’s as solid as it looks.
“We’re not supposed to call him by his name,” he whispers dramatically, looking genuinely uneasy. “Word is, he doesn’t like it.”
“Yeah,” Dulce adds with a giggle, “he doesn’t like feeling on the same level as his subordinates.”
Laughter bubbles up around the table, but before I can process the absurdity of this conversation, a cough interrupts us.
We all turn.
Silas is standing in the doorway, his presence immediately silencing the room. His blue eyes lock onto mine, sharp and intense. “Lauren, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he says, his tone flat, but his gaze unwavering.
He’s dressed impeccably, as always—tailored suit, polished shoes, and his caramel hair styled to perfection. But today, something feels off. His whole energy is darker, more intense, as if something is simmering just below the surface.
I glance at the clock. “I still have half an hour left for lunch,” I respond, keeping my tone even.
The three people around me gasp, like I’ve just committed an unspeakable offense. I glance at them, confused. Did I say something wrong? My sister always tells me I can come off as blunt without realizing it, but this feels different.
Silas narrows his eyes at me, his familiar look of disdain flickeringbriefly. I hold up my lunch container—a silent signal that I’m still eating. He exhales sharply, and I notice his gaze soften for just a second.
“I want you in my office in thirty minutes.Sharp,” he commands, before turning on his heel. But as he’s leaving, he pauses. “Daniel, come to my office. Now.”
The atmosphere thickens as Daniel stands up, visibly nervous. The air in the room becomes stifling with tension, and everyone watches him walk out like he’s heading to his execution.
How strange.
I finish my meal quickly and head to the bathroom for my usual post-lunch routine: checking my makeup, brushing my teeth, and reapplying a light spritz of perfume. Preparation is crucial, especially with Silas. His unpredictability keeps me on edge, and I never know if I’ll need to be ready for a last-minute presentation or an unexpected meeting.
When I open the door to his office, Daniel rushes out, his face pale and drawn. He looks terrified. I offer him a small smile, but he doesn’t even notice me—he just keeps walking, his pace quickening as he disappears down the hall.
I clear my throat softly, signaling my presence. Silas doesn’t look up, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he types furiously. His jaw is clenched, and the tension in his shoulders is palpable. I sit in front of his desk, waiting in the thick, uncomfortable silence. Finally, Silas stops typing with an audible sigh, clasping his hands together on the desk.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable, but before he can speak, I casually slip in a question that’s been nagging at me since lunch. “Did you know everyone in the office is terrified of you?” I ask, genuinely curious, though the bluntness of my question surprises even me.
His eyes darken slightly, his jaw tightening again. “That’s how it should be,” he replies, completely serious. I notice the shadow of stubble on his face, and for the first time, I see a faint scar cutting through his right eyebrow. How did I not notice that before? Butwhat’s really unsettling is the stress etched into his features. Silas Walker—cool, detached, always in control—is struggling with something.
“Not necessarily,” I counter, my therapist’s voice echoing in my head, reminding me to challenge situations when I need to. “These days, successful companies are led by bosses who actually connect with their employees. Being feared isn’t always the best strategy.”
His lips curl into a humorless smirk, his blue eyes narrowing. “That’s what my siblings are for. I’m here to do business, not play nice.” He leans back in his chair, watching me closely. “Any other completely inappropriate question?”
“Yes,” I say, meeting his gaze evenly. If he wants to play this game, fine. I won’t back down.
He raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. “I’m listening.” The wicked half-smile that appears on his lips is all too familiar, a dangerous reminder of who Silas really is underneath the polished exterior.
I cross my legs, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze drops to the slit in my pencil skirt before snapping back to meet my eyes. He’s quick, but not quick enough for me to miss it.
“I’m curious—have you ever tried smiling without looking like you’re plotting world domination?” I ask, my tone light but testing the waters.
“No.” His response is immediate and dry. “Next question.”
I raise an eyebrow, not entirely surprised but still amused by his bluntness. “It seems calling youSilascauses quite a stir around here,” I add, gauging his reaction.
He rolls his eyes, exasperation clear on his face. “Look, don’t get me wrong—if you call meMr. Walker, I might end up with an erection, but there’s no need for that,” he says, his voice lowering into that wicked, playful tone that always catches me off guard. His smile sharpens, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Unless you enjoy it as much as I do.”
A flush rises to my cheeks, but I keep my voice steady. “I don’t plan on calling you that.” I pick up my tablet, trying to shift theconversation back to work. “Your siblings are already in the city; a limousine will pick them up in …” I say as I glance at my watch, “…about fifteen minutes. The conference room is prepped; catering staff is handling everything.” As I speak, I catch him running his index finger along his lower lip, a habit I’ve noticed but learned to ignore. “Any questions?” I ask, adjusting my glasses, my tone clipped and professional.
Silas leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s studying me. “Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks, completely serious.
I blink, caught off guard. “Uh … I don’t see why that’s relevant.”
