“I wonder,” he says, his tone a little more careful now, “if, when all this is over, you’d be free to grab a coffee with me sometime.”
My brain starts whirring, analyzing his words. These are the kinds of moments I never seem to read right. Is he asking me out? Or is this just him being polite? I’ve been burned before—like that one time in college when a guy “invited” me for coffee, and I spent hours getting ready, painting my nails, picking out a cute summer dress, only for him to show up drenched in sweat, still in his gym clothes. That humiliation is burned into my memory, and now I doubt every invitation like this. What should I say? What does he mean?
I force a shy smile. “I’ll see you in a month?”
His smile falters for a split second, but he recovers quickly, his eyes studying me with an intensity I don’t quite understand. “You’re clever. You didn’t answer my question, but you didn’t say no either. I’ll take it.” He steps back, giving me a small wave. “See you in a month.”
I watch him go, feeling like I’ve somehow managed to complicate things again. My hand feels awkward as I shake his, my own smile plastered to my face in what must look like a mixture of nerves and confusion.
As I step into Silas’s apartment, I’m greeted by the sight of him standing in the doorway of his guest room, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are sharp, scanning me with an intensity that immediately makes me feel unsettled.
“What happens in a month?” His voice is low, and there's something accusatory in the way he asks, as if he’s caught me doing something wrong.
I freeze, my heart racing. “Your appointment with him,” I say quickly, far quicker than I mean to, already busying myself with tidying up things I don’t even need to touch—rearranging books, smoothing out cushions, doing anything to avoid looking directly at him.
“Lauren …” His tone softens, but there’s an edge to it. I glance at him for barely a second, but that brief look is enough to make my stomach twist. The way he’s staring at me, like he’s trying to see through me, makes me feel like I’m standing on a cliff’s edge. “Come here,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but the command in it pulls at something deep inside me.
“You need to rest,” I say, pretending I didn’t hear his command. “You’ve got to take care of that heart if you want to keep being CEO of Property Group and?—”
“Lauren.” His voice cuts through my words like a blade. “You know I don’t like repeating myself. Come here.”
I take a deep breath, walking toward him but stopping just short of where he wants me—keeping a safe distance between us.
“We still have things to finish,” he says, uncrossing his arms and taking a step closer, erasing the space I’d carefully created.
“No.” My voice wavers slightly, but I force strength into it. “Clearly, your heart can’t handle something like this. Besides, it’s not right. You’re my boss, and if there’s anything good to come out of this, it’s that we stopped in time.”
His eyebrows lift, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Your boss? Now I’myour boss? Lauren, I have more authority over a pencil than I do over you.”
“Yes, boss. And we can’t cross that line again. Ican’t...” I search for words strong enough to make him stop. “I can’t afford to lose this job. I need it.”
That, at least, seems to land. His movements are still, his expression hardening. “Why would you lose your job?” He looks genuinely confused, and that infuriates me more than anything.
I throw my hands in the air, exasperated. “Let’s see. Maybe because it’s unprofessional? That’s one. Secondly, I know your reputation, and it doesn’t match mine,at all. And third, I’m not willing to be humiliated when women start coming in and out of your office while I’m just …”
“Wait, wait.” His voice rises, his eyes darkening. “What women? What reputation?” He steps closer again, and despite the casualsweatpants, Silas commands the room. He’s taller than me, broader too, and the sheer force of his presence makes my chest tighten with intimidation.
Don’t back down, Lauren.
“Silas, you know what I’m talking about.” I turn sharply, trying to end the conversation, but he follows close behind like a shadow—relentless.
“What women did you see coming in and out of my office?” His voice is mocking now, his eyes sharp. “Because if you're seeing things I’m not, I might need to call security—or maybe a psychiatrist.”
I dart to the other side of the kitchen island, needing the physical barrier between us to think. This issotypical of Silas—scrambling my brain, clouding it with confusing thoughts, making every nerve in my body come alive. He did it in high school, and he’s doing it now. The only difference is, this time, he’s my boss. Avoiding him is no longer an option.
“That doesn’t mean it won’t happen. I know myself, Silas—I don’t handle uncertainty well. I need clarity, and you’re like a damn hummingbird, flitting from flower to flower.”
“Hummingbird?” He blinks, taken aback. His voice rises again, heated. “What the hell? Less than an hour ago, I wasn’t a hummingbird—I wasyours!” he shouts, the frustration evident in his clenched jaw, his blue eyes blazing with anger.
His heart. I shouldn’t let him get this worked up. Hisheartcan’t take this.
A cold, uncomfortable silence fills the room, suffocating the air between us.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about this right now,” I murmur, looking down at my feet. “You need to recover.”
Silas doesn’t respond, and I don’t dare look at him—though I already know the expression on his face. Disappointment. I’ve only ever seen it once before, and I wish I could forget the memory. But then there’s the other memory. The one I can’t shake—the phrases of Hades and Persephone on the wall in his guest room, the room where we almost ... How can something so personal—something connectedto both of us—be hanging in his ninety-million-dollar apartment? What does it mean? Did he think about me all these years, or is this just Silas, the artist, in love with his own creation? Emma would know. She’s always been better at figuring out what men really mean. When I tell her I kissed him, she’s going to be pissed.
Night has fallen now, and with it, a strange, heavy silence. I don’t know why I’m still here. Something in me won’t let me leave. Silas is proud, stubborn, and utterly alone. I’m the only person he’s allowed into this moment of vulnerability, the only one who knows how fragile his heart is. Walking away feels wrong—heartless. And yet, I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not his mother. I’m his assistant. This isnotmy place. But I can’t stop myself.
