“No, this was perfect.”
He grunted in response.
“When’s my mother due back?” I asked as he set his spoon down.
His face twitched—a scowl, quickly masked.
“In a couple of days’ time,” he said, dabbing at his lips with a napkin. Delicate. Mechanical. But he still wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Before I could press him further, Connie swept back in with the next course, and I shifted my focus to the food.
Chapter 5
Silas
She was nothing like my ex-wife. She sat beside me, licking her spoon clean of the lemon cheesecake, utterly unbothered. Cool, calm and collected. The very picture of feminine restraint—except for the way that tongue slid across silver.
She’d turned twenty-two last month. A grown woman now.
And Everly was all woman.
That dress she wore? Criminal. The way it clung to her curves—nipped in at the waist, hugged her hips, teased the shape of her thighs. It was obscene. And yet, she somehow managed to look like a goddamn virgin sacrifice and a sex goddess at the same time.
I’d gone straight to my safe earlier. Tore that brown envelope open like it owed me something.
Nothing about her new job.
That pissed me off more than I cared to admit.
It meant I couldn’t trap her in my company. Couldn’t keep her under my roof with some pretty little contract and a fake salary while I watched her. I’d been denied that control—and that stung.
My eyes dropped lower.
Her chest rose and fell with each breath. Full. Firm. Exceptionally healthy. The golden sheen of her skin made my palms itch to touch her—taste her. She hadn’t noticed yet that my wedding ring was gone.
She still thought that I was her mother's husband.
I imagined Eris’s face when she found out.
Rage wouldn’t cover it.
She’d lose everything—me, the house, her job. Her reputation. Her only daughter.
No. That wasn’t enough.
I’d drive the blade deeper.
Everly would earn the right to carry my seed.
And that thought didn’t disgust me. It thrilled me.
She was hard. Shaped by years of maternal neglect. Hardened, but not broken. I could see it in the set of her jaw. In the way she carried herself like she didn’t owe anyone softness.
But what if—
What if I didn’t have to break her?
What if I could get her to participate?
