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Chapter twenty-one

Cecilia

Did he just say…

~ One Month Later / December ~

It’s out now, everyone knows who I am. My social media accounts have been going crazy since the online article revealing my name dropped this morning. I’m not sure how they figured it out or who told them, but like Silas said, it was only a matter of time.

Even if we were careful not to draw attention to us when in public, it wasn’t always easy given Sy’s status. But when asked, we never disclosed my name, and Silas always tried to hide me from the cameras.

It’s not that I didn’t want people knowing who I was, it’s just that now I feel like my life is under a magnifying glass. Everyone is paying close attention to me, what I do, and what I say, whether it’s in person or online.

On my way to work this morning, I could feel all their eyes on me—their whispered comments. It was unsettling. At least in the office, everyone already knew about me and Silas, so that made the day a bit more bearable.

I tried to hold back from reading the article.

Silas told me it was pointless to, that they will say and write whatever they want, even if it’s not the truth.

I tried, I really tried... but eventually, it was too much.

I had to know what was being said. So, I read it. .. and I instantly wished I hadn’t.

The article itself wasn’t too bad, nothing really harmful.

They mention everything about me: my name, age, where I work.

They mention my parents, their death, even my grandmother’s.

Where I studied, my move to New York shortly before meeting Silas.

It’s twisted how they know so much... whoever wrote this article did some serious digging into my past.

The article, I could handle. It’s the comments following it that I can’t. They’re nasty and spiteful. Not all, some are sweet and wish us well or claim I’m pretty. But the others, most are downright disgusting.

Things like I’m just using him for his money and fame. That I sought him out the minute I moved here. That he’s only pitying the poor orphan girl. Saying he could do so much better, or I’m not worthy of being with someone like Silas.

There’s even some that go as far as saying that I’m only a fantasy he wants to fulfill legally. That given my height, it would be like fucking a child. Which is just sickening, how are people even allowed to write such inappropriate things?

The list goes on and on with people’s opinion about me. People are so judgmental, and yet they don’t even know me. All they see is a picture, and with that alone they claim I’m not enough for someone like Silas.

I hate it, but what I hate most is that I’m letting it get inside my head. Now I’m questioning if maybe they’re right, maybe Silas could have someone better. Someone with less emotional baggage.

When my workday ended, I pretended to have extra things I wanted to finish before leaving.

I wasn’t in the mood to walk home with Emma and hear her talk about the post. I just wanted to be alone, so I waited a good thirty minutes, then got myself a cab.

There was no way I could make it through fifteen minutes of people looking at me without breaking down.

All I wanted was to go home and hide under my covers, but since I live with Em, I know that can’t be done.

Then I remembered Sy telling me he had stuff to do with Clay and would only be home later.

So instead of going home, I head to the penthouse since he gave me a keycard to get in and out whenever I want.

I love this place, even if it’s very masculine with all the gray and black tones, something about it still feels homey.

That’s probably only because it’s attached to Silas.

His place is so much larger than mine and Emma’s.

His takes up the whole floor plan of the building, has a second level, and his own private outdoor space.

It’s ridiculous really, but so, so beautiful.

The floors are some type of shiny black wood, but you wouldn’t be able to tell with how glossy they are.

I swear, when they’ve just been washed, you can see your reflection in them.

All the walls to his penthouse are white like in my place, but instead of having beige features everywhere, his are light grays and dark grays.

His kitchen is open plan like ours but bigger and has way more gadgets and appliances. The cabinets are all white, with glossy black marble countertops and high white barstools lining the kitchen island.

The dining room, which is set off to the side of the kitchen, is on a higher platform than the rest of the open space, making it feel as if it’s separated even though it’s not.

A huge rectangular table sits in the center with twelve chairs, but I’m pretty sure we could fit more with how spaced out they are.

The stairs near the entrance are dark and look like they float in the middle of the air. The top part curves to the right, landing on the upper floor where the master bedroom and two guest rooms are. While downstairs hosts a gym room, office, and library.

I head upstairs, through the master bedroom and into the bathroom to start the shower.

As I undress, I look into the big mirror along the wall above the double sinks and observe myself.

My hair, my face, my body. I’ve never been one to wish I was different.

I’ve always liked what I see in the mirror.

But right now? I’m questioning everything. ..

I step away and enter the glass shower that’s big enough for five, with jets at every angle and a huge rain shower head above. There’s also a bench in here. The rich really do live like kings.

I shower quickly and get dressed in one of Sy’s shirts, accompanied by my underwear. Skipping back down the stairs, I go to the library and grab the book I was reading last time I was in here, then return to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine.

I’m just about to sit down on the sofa when the elevator dings indicating its arrival.

Silas said he wouldn’t be here until later, and the staff only comes in the morning, so I’m not sure who else it could be.

My question is answered pretty quickly when I see Morgan and Emma stepping out and walking my way with two grocery bags.

“I told you she’d be hiding out up here,” Emma calls as she goes over to the kitchen island and deposits the bags. Making herself at home as if she’s been here a thousand times, when in reality it’s the first time.

Morgan walks over to me and takes me into a much-needed hug. “Hey, Sweetie. How are you holding up?” She’s asking about the article, a concerned expression on her beautiful, serene face.

“I’m fine, really. You guys didn’t have to come up here.” I try to sound as authentic as I can muster, but the truth is, I’m happy they showed up.

“Of course, we did. I know you read the article, and most likely all the comments, too. So I can only imagine what’s going on in your head right now.

And don’t bother lying about it, I know you, Cece,” Emma interjects as she struts toward us.

“Wow, this place is something else. Holy shit, I’m surprised you haven’t moved in yet. ”

I laugh, because if she knew that Silas has been subtly mentioning me moving in, she would probably pack my things for me and ship them up while I was at work.

“You that much in a hurry to get rid of me?” I tease .

“You know that’s not true. I just think it would be easier for you to just move in here.

I mean, you spend most of your nights here with Sy, so why not stay all the time?

Most of your clothes and stuff have already been brought up at some point over the last two months.

So it’s not like there would be much left to move,” she replies with a shrug.

Wait a minute...

“Silas put you up to this, didn’t he?” I place my hands over my hips and tap my foot, waiting for an answer I already know. Because it just so happens that my man gave me the exact same reason this morning while I was getting dressed for work.

She picks up one of her red strands and inspects it, looking for dead ends. Not looking at me, she replies, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

At the exact same moment that Morgan nods. “He did. Even asked me to tell you how much I love living with Clay, hoping it will make you envious and want to move in quicker.”

“Oh my God, he’s relentless!” I stand, completely shocked as I look at both of them. I can’t believe he would go as far as getting my friends involved to have his way.

“He really is, it’s kind of adorable,” Morg says, smiling brightly at me, she lives for this lovey-dovey stuff.

“Okay, we get it. Hayes is the perfect man who stops at nothing to get the girl. Now can we get to the margaritas and food we planned on having to cheer up our girl who had a bad day?” Emma says, rolling her eyes like she’s annoyed.

But I know her, she lives for this shit, too. A true romantic at heart.

After getting a big batch of margarita made and an enormous amount of food laid out over the living room table, we sit with our drinks on the floor in front of the couch. No one mentions why we’re really here, and I’m guessing that’s the point, to get my mind off of it.

But as I listen to Emma telling us about the date she had last week with a guy named Tommy, my mind starts wandering once more with doubt.

The energy in the room quickly shifts and I look up, noticing both sets of eyes on me. I’m guessing I zoned out long enough for them to notice. They don’t speak and allow me the time to process what’s going through my head.

“What if they’re right...” I murmur, ashamed of myself for believing that even for a second but still needing to address it.

Morgan places her hand on top of mine that lay flat over my outstretched legs. “Right about what?”