Page 61 of Filthy Rich Silver Foxes

There’s an edge in the silence that follows.

Silas breaks it. “You can stop pretending you don’t care.”

I glance at him.

“If you want her,” he says easily, “just admit it.”

My jaw tics.

He shrugs. “Or don’t. But I know that look. Hell, I’ve worn it.”

“You’re already half in love with her.”

“More than half,” he says without hesitation. “And you? You’ve been watching her like you’re waiting for permission.”

I don’t answer.

He drops onto the opposite end of the couch, eyes never leaving me. “So maybe we stop pretending this is normal. Maybe we try something different.”

I frown. “Different how?”

Silas smiles, slow and measured. “You know how.”

Genevieve stirs in her sleep, murmuring something I can’t make out.

My attention snaps back to her.

Genevieve shifts, the smallest movement—just a sigh into the fabric of Silas’s sweatshirt, her brow twitching like she’s caught in some half-dream. Her hand curls tighter over her stomach, and I feel it again, that unfamiliar pull. Protective. Possessive. Dangerous.

I school my features into something unreadable. “She’s been through a lot.”

Silas nods slowly. “Yeah. She has.”

I glance at him. He’s not teasing now. There’s no flirtation in his tone. No smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. He looks tired. Earnest. And for once, entirely serious.

“You ever think we’re both trying to protect the same thing,” he says, voice quiet, “but from opposite sides?”

I don’t answer.

“Max,” he says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “You know I’m not subtle. I’ve got my tells. You’ve seen them a hundred times. And I’ve seen yours.”

“She’s not a game.”

“Never said she was. But maybe that’s the point.”

My jaw tightens. I can’t look away from her. “She deserves better than this. Than us.”

“She deserves people who won’t leave when it gets complicated.” Silas tilts his head. “You’ve already started thinking about her more than you should. I’ve seen it. Hell, you’re standing in my living room, watching her sleep, trying to convince yourself you don’t feel something.”

“I don’t do relationships.”

Silas smirks, but it’s softer this time. “Yeah, well, I do too many. But this doesn’t feel like the usual crash-and-burn, does it?”

No. It doesn’t.

He leans back, gaze moving to her again. “You think I haven’t thought about what this is? What it could be? You think I don’t know the odds are stacked against all three of us?” He shrugs. “I don’t care.”

I stare at him, the words just beneath my tongue, too jagged to speak aloud.