Page 24 of Ugly Truths (The Veiled Truths Trilogy #2)

Silas

E lena moves around Nat’s guest room quietly, folding clothes, gathering the few belongings she’s accumulated in the short time she’s been here.

I lean against the doorframe, watching as she tucks a shirt into her bag. There’s stiffness in her shoulders, and the way her hands move just a little too fast tells me she might be as unsure about this as I am.

Pulling out my phone, I type a quick text to my sister. At the very least, she deserves an update after I demanded she and Cora leave the house only five minutes before I showed up on her front step.

Me: I’m taking Elena with me.

The reply comes almost immediately.

Natalie: You don’t say?

A second later, another message.

Natalie: I’m happy for you.

I don’t answer. Mostly because I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

When we make it outside, Elena is wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, her head tilted down to keep her face hidden. It’s probably unnecessary, but neither of us wants to take chances.

Only once we pull onto the road and are protected behind my tinted windows does the tension seem to ease. Being in the car with her relaxes me in a way I didn’t expect.

My hand finds her thigh, right where it used to rest, simply because she’s next to me in a way I never let myself consider again.

Her fingers tracing the outlines of the veins on the back of my hand with delicate, deliberate strokes. Each time the tip of her nail becomes the only point of contact, my grip tightens reflexively, pressing into the soft flesh.

For the first time in too long, my mind is finally— finally —quiet.

When we pull into the garage, I kill the engine. The only reprieve I feel for my sanity is that Cillian agreed with Davey’s assessment of the threat Elena poses, but it doesn’t stop the paranoia from creeping in.

What if I’m inviting a fox back into the henhouse?

I move efficiently to grab her two bags from the back seat before opening her door. She looks up at me, searching my face like she’s trying to gauge what I’m thinking, but I just nod, a silent cue to follow me inside.

Walking her back into this house through the side entrance feels like stepping through some distorted version of reality, like no time and a century have passed all at once.

The hallway grows darker as I shut and lock the door, blocking out the garage’s motion lights. I quietly disarm and rearm my security system on the panel. The routine has always been second nature, but now, the air around me crackles.

Just as I turn, I’m being pressed backward.

The bags slip from my hands, landing on the hardwood as presses me into the wall.

One hand slides over my shoulder while the other fists into the already-wrinkled fabric of my shirt through my unbuttoned suit jacket.

Then, she stands on her toes and presses her lips to mine.

She’s more tentative at first, her tongue moving achingly slow, teasing and retreating. It makes my blood burn and pulse pound against my ribs.

If nothing else exists between us, this still feels real. Tangible. The one last shred of hope I’ve been holding onto because there’s just no way she can fake this. The goosebumps on her arms aren’t self-made; her panting is too uneven for it to be forced.

Right?

Her hand roams my chest, stroking the sensitive spots along my sides, each movement against me growing more confident.

Even through my shirt, I feel everything.

The light drag of her fingertips, the way she’s touching me with purpose.

Elena pulls back just enough to expose the flush of her cheeks and the lust brimming in her eyes when she opens them, half-hooded and relaxed.

This is different. It has to be .

Gripping her firmly at the waist, I start walking her backward, guiding us toward the kitchen doorway. She allows me to move her, and that’s when I cup her face between my hands, tilting her head to give myself better access to that beautiful, swollen mouth.

“I’m taking you in the kitchen,” I murmur the demand.

I’m going to fuck her on that counter. Not just because I need to be inside her again—though God knows I do—but because I need to erase what happened the last time we stood in that space. I won’t let her goodbye be the memory that lingers in that room, even if this is all a colossal mistake.

Her eyes gloss over, and she nods in understanding. Her hands move between us, fingers curling around the leather of my belt, tugging just slightly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Please.”

My mouth is on hers again as we step through the threshold, keeping her where I want her. She moves with me, and for a second, it feels like nothing exists outside of this.

But all too quickly, a prickle of awareness creeps up my spine. The smell of hazelnut, a slight clink of ceramic, the muted movements of someone trying to be invisible.

My body tenses as I pull back, eyes landing on Kendall standing at the island, who just finished serving coffee from the glass pot, but not just to anyone.

To my father.

William sits on a stool, poised as ever, his mug halfway to his lips, eyebrows raised in that way that makes it impossible to tell if he’s amused or irritated.

Kendall’s eyes, meanwhile, dart from the back of Elena’s head to me and back again, like she’s regretting every life choice that led her to this moment.

My hands still on Elena’s face, just as panic flickers across her expression. She swivels her head enough to see both of them, and the second they all recognize one another, their expressions change.

Kendall’s features soften as she presses a hand over her heart. “Scarlett. It’s so good to see you.”

I feel Elena slip seamlessly back into that persona, her posture adjusting, as she offers Kendall an embarrassed smile, cheeks stained a dark shade of pink. “Hi, Kendall. It’s good to see you, too.”

My hands drop just as my palms begin to sweat. Hers also fall.

I shift my gaze to my father, taking him in fully now. At first glance, he’s composed—his expression carefully arranged. But I know him. It’s in the sharpness of his jaw, the way his fingers flex subtly around the handle of his mug.

He’s furious.

Letting out a slow breath through his nose, William lifts his mug slightly in a silent toast, his smile thin. “Scarlett,” he says, voice laced with false warmth. “What a lovely surprise.”

Elena nods and greets him with a simple, “William.” Her tone is polite but curt as they take one another in. “I’m in town for a few weeks,” she offers, giving him nothing more than necessary.

I don’t miss the way his fingers flex around his mug and how his eyes jump to me briefly.

Kendall grins, giving Elena another approving look. “Well, I hope I’ll be seeing more of you then.”

Elena responds with a strained, closed-mouth smile. Thank God her bags are still in the hallway, tucked out of sight.

William hums, lifting his coffee in that effortlessly dismissive way of his. “Wonderful.” Then, just as smoothly, he turns his attention to me. “Alice should meet Scarlett,” he muses. “You two have been spending quite a bit of time together, have you not?”

Elena tenses before her hesitant smile transforms into something sharper, all teeth.

“We’ve met,” she responds, the half-truth slipping out a little too easily. “She was lovely.”

My father bristles, and I level him with a look. “Whatever you came here to discuss, we can talk in the den.” Somehow, my voice stays even. “Or my study.”

William doesn’t respond right away, but eventually waves me off with a flick of his wrist, taking his coffee cup as he stands and turning for the door. He doesn’t say another word or wait for me to follow.

Kendall exhales quietly and moves to the sink, rinsing out a dish like she hadn’t just been standing in the middle of a silent war. Elena is still against me, and I know, without looking at her, that her mind is already working.

I lift her chin, holding her there for just a second. Though she softens under my touch, the corners of her eyes and mouth are pulled down. I take her lips against mine, but the moment has been doused.

When I pull back, I run my fingers along her jaw, trying to draw out the remaining apprehension in her stare. Without looking away from her, I say, “Kendall, could you make us something small to eat?”

The chef nods easily. “Of course.” Then, she looks to Elena. “Anything in particular?”

Elena doesn’t miss a beat. “Whatever’s easiest. ”

Kendall gives her a smile before moving toward the fridge.

I press my mouth to Elena's forehead. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I say against her skin before pulling back.

With one last drag of my fingers along her side, I force myself to step back, then turn and head toward the den. As I walk down the hallway, my mind starts reeling.

I should have known he was in my house, uninvited, but there was no one here to tell me.

Lloyd is in California. Paul and Steven are focused on the server audits.

Cora will continue to stay at Natalie’s now that we know Peter might be keeping tabs on her.

Cillian has been handling some other tasks I need to straighten out ahead of the executive transition.

Everyone has a role, and for once, no one is stationed at the house.

Then, there’s the more pressing issue: my father has security access to my home.

I gave it to him a long time ago and didn't think much of it. That means the system wouldn’t have flagged his entry as a breach. Just a log that someone let themselves in with a code. Cillian probably saw the entry and assumed it was me or Kendall.

I hadn’t thought about it in years, but as I enter the den to find William sitting in my chair, I realize that needs to change.

With barely a glance in his direction, I walk to the window and pull back the sheer curtain just enough to see the street.