Page 13 of Ruined by My Ex’s Dad (Silver Fox Obsession #2)

It was both exhilarating and terrifying—a vulnerability I hadn't allowed myself in decades.

"There you are!"

Miles's voice shattered the moment.

We turned in unison to find him striding toward us, confidence personified in an expensive suit and perfectly styled hair.

My son, yet so often a stranger to me.

The physical resemblance between us had never seemed more pronounced—or more superficial—than in this moment.

"Dad. Savannah."

He reached us and moved in to give Savannah an awkward hug that made something dark and primitive stir in my chest.

"Sorry, I'm late. The Madison Street contractors called with another issue."

"I'm sure your father can help resolve it," Savannah said, stepping subtly away from his touch.

"He seems to have a talent for solving... complicated situations."

Our eyes met briefly over Miles's shoulder, the double meaning of her words hanging between us.

"That's why we're here, isn't it?" Miles said, oblivious to the undercurrents.

"Westlake needs Savannah's marketing genius, and you need to sign off on bringing her on board."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Is that what this meeting is about? I was under the impression Ms. Blake was providing consultation, not joining the company."

"Well, that's what we should discuss over lunch," Miles said, his hand finding the small of Savannah's back in a proprietary gesture that made my jaw tighten.

"I've been trying to convince her to come work with us directly. Merge her talents with Turner Holdings permanently."

The implication was clear, and not just professionally.

Miles still considered Savannah his territory, was using this business opportunity as a way to reclaim what he'd lost.

"An interesting proposition," I said carefully.

"Though I wonder if Ms. Blake values her independence too much for such an arrangement."

Savannah's eyes met mine, understanding the layers of my statement.

"I do value my autonomy," she agreed.

"And I'm selective about who I... partner with."

"Everyone has their price," Miles said with the casual arrogance that had become his trademark.

"It's just a matter of finding the right offer."

I watched something harden in Savannah's expression, a reminder of why their relationship had failed.

Miles had never understood her value beyond what she could do for him, how she might enhance his image or advance his goals.

"Shall we continue this discussion over lunch?" I suggested, deliberately placing myself between them as we moved toward the exit.

"The reservation's at Arielle's."

"The private room?" Miles asked.

"Of course."

Arielle's was the most exclusive restaurant in the financial district, and our private dining room there represented the pinnacle of Turner Holdings’ influence.

A place where deals were made, where power was displayed without being crudely stated.

Here, I could control every aspect of the environment while appearing generous and accommodating.

As we exited the gallery, I allowed Miles to walk ahead, arranging a call with his assistant about the Madison Street issue.

It gave me a moment alone with Savannah, a brief opportunity I couldn't waste.

"You never responded to my last message," I said quietly, my voice for her ears alone.

"There was no response to give," she said, though her quickened breathing betrayed her affected calm.

"There's always a choice, Savannah. You either play by their rules, or you play by your own." I held the door for her, my body close enough that she had to brush against me to pass through.

"The question is whether you're brave enough to acknowledge what you really want."

She paused, her eyes meeting mine with that same direct challenge I'd found so compelling from the first moment.

"And if what I want is for you to leave me alone?"

"Then say so. Directly. Without qualification." I held her gaze.

"Tell me you don't feel this, and I'll step back. Business only, from this moment forward."

The seconds stretched between us, heavy with possibility. I watched indecision war with desire in her expression, felt my control slipping as her lips parted slightly.

"I—"

"Are you two coming?" Miles called from the sidewalk, impatience evident in his tone.

The spell was broken.

Savannah stepped away, composure returning like armor being locked into place.

"This isn't over," I said softly as we moved to join Miles.

"It has to be," she replied, but the slight tremor in her hands undermined the certainty in her voice.

I smiled, the predator in me recognizing weakness, opportunity.

"We both know it won't be. Not until I've had you in my bed again, Savannah. Not until you've surrendered to what's between us, fully conscious of exactly who I am. Who we are to each other."

Her step faltered, eyes widening at my boldness.

"And when that happens," I continued, voice dropping to a near whisper as we approached Miles, "it won't be in some anonymous hotel room.

It will be in my home, where I have complete control over every aspect of the experience, where I can take my time learning every inch of you.

Where no one will interrupt us or intrude on what belongs to me alone. "

"I don't belong to anyone," she whispered fiercely.

"Not yet." I smiled, the expression not reaching my eyes.

"But you will. Because deep down, beneath all that hard-won independence, you want to surrender to someone worthy of your submission. Not a boy who saw you as an accessory, but a man who recognizes your value precisely because you're strong enough to yield on your terms."

Before she could respond, we reached Miles, and the moment for honesty passed.

But I'd seen enough in her eyes to know my words had hit their mark.

Had articulated a truth she wasn't ready to acknowledge but couldn't fully deny.

As we walked toward the restaurant, I maintained my usual composed exterior—the successful businessman, the concerned father, the perfect host.

But beneath that facade, something wilder stirred—a hunger that had nothing to do with lunch and everything to do with the woman walking beside me, deliberately keeping my son between us like a human shield.

A shield that wouldn't protect her for long.

Because I meant what I'd said in that text.

I didn't play by conventional rules, never had.

And I wanted Savannah Blake with an intensity that should have alarmed me, should have triggered all the careful control mechanisms I'd built over a lifetime of disciplined success.

Instead, it exhilarated me. Made me feel alive in a way I hadn't in years.

Made me confident that before this was over, she would be mine.

On my terms. In my territory.

Playing by my rules.

And God help us both when that happened.