Page 111 of The Oath We Give

“Then I’ll be here.” He lifts a hand, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. “If it’s important to you, I can skip a budget meeting for it.”

His fingers trace my cheek, just lightly with the back of his knuckle. The band wrapped around his ring finger catches the light, a physical reminder of the ties that bind us.

This is the first time he’s touched me since the night in his office.

My stomach warms thinking about it, thighs twitching as heat pools in my core.

“Silas.” I clear my throat. “About the other night. I—”

“Well, James, I never thought I’d see the day!” Nails on a chalkboard interrupt my word vomit. “We’ve finally managed to track down the happy couple!”

I visibly flinch when I see Regina and my father parting the crowd, walking in tandem until they are standing before us. She’s wearing a hat with feathers, and she looks very similar to a cockatoo.

Silas, ever aware of my body language, slides an intimate arm around my waist, resting his palm on my hip as he tugs me into his body.

“Regina Whittaker.” She extends a hand to him. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

Silas takes her hand, shaking it to be polite. One thing I’ve come to really like about this man is how he never forces a smile. I mean, he doesn’t really show any emotion on his face, but I like that he doesn’t change his self around different people.

Silas is Silas.

What you see is what you get.

But with me, it’s different. Like that statement doesn’t apply when we are alone. Sometimes Silas is anything but Silas. He’s something else entirely.

He’s the kind of man who buys an entire collection of your artwork because he doesn’t want anyone to have the secret parts of you that you do give to people willingly. He wants them all to himself.

“James.”

My fake husband’s jaw tightens as she shakes my father’s hand, a knowing glint, a threat lingering in his eyes. Silas knows my dad; James is blithely unaware of just how well.

“Coraline, what is this outfit? Did you not have time to get changed before the event?”

I flick my gaze down at the threadbare denim overalls and white tube top. “It’s a charity event, Regina. No one gives a shit about my clothes.”

“Honey, that mouth, I swear.” She reaches forward, tapping my cheek as she shakes her head. I withhold from biting her finger off as she pulls back. “How are you two getting on with married life? Lilac isn’t too much of a burden, is she? I tried telling Coraline a man like you would want your own space.”

I try to hide the shock on my face. Is she hitting on him? In front of me? In front of my father?

“We like having her. She’s great.”

“Well, I hope the two of them are taking care of you. I tried making sure Coraline knew how to run a household, but she was always so busy with her little drawings.”

Every time she opens her mouth, I’m reminded of why I want to stitch it shut.

“The little drawings that sold for half a million dollars my senior year of high school?” I bite out, sliding a protective hand onto Silas’s stomach, feeling the ripple of his abs beneath his shirt. “We take care of each other, Regina.”

“I’m sure you do.” She nods, eyeing me the way she used to when I’d walk down the stairs as a teenager, judging every pound of weight, every article of clothing.

“Silas.” My father clears his throat. “We’d love to have you for dinner one night. Our chef makesprime rib that pairs flawlessly with a bottle of scotch. Are you a single-malt man?”

“I drink bourbon.” The muscles in his jaw twitch, voice smooth like liquid night. “And I don’t eat meat.”

I try to hide the shock on my face but find it difficult as I look up at him. The bourbon, I knew about. He’s got a cart in his office, stocked with ice nightly, but the meat?

“Since when?” I ask.

Silas looks down, the harshness in his eyes softening, and like it’s no big, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, he says, “Since you told me you don’t like the smell.”