Page 28 of Ugly Truths (The Veiled Truths Trilogy #2)

Silas

A s much as I want to stay buried in Elena for the next week, reality has other plans and we still have work to do.

While having breakfast together at the kitchen island the next morning, I tell her that I need to spend some time in virtual meetings. A part of me braces for her reaction, half expecting her to fall into old habits and retreat to that damn guest room I still want to demolish, but she doesn’t.

Quietly, almost shyly, she asks, “Can I work in your study? On the couch, I mean. You won’t even know I’m there.”

Each word is carefully chosen, and I can feel something start to weld itself back together inside of me, white-hot and burning. It’s the same sensation I felt yesterday when I found her in my bedroom, claiming the space she wouldn’t even leave clothes in four months ago.

All I can manage is a nod. Anything else would have resulted in me taking her on the counter, as I had promised I would, Kendall prepping for dinner next to us be damned.

That’s when it really hit me how insane this is.

I should be disgusted with myself. Hell-bent on making her suffer for what she did to me.

I’m not the kind of man who forgives, and I definitely don’t let people back in once they’ve betrayed me.

And yet, here we are, just three weeks after bringing her back to Chicago, and she’s already in my house again.

In my study. In my bed. I swore I wouldn’t allow this, but I just don’t give a damn about the potential consequences right now.

Elena is the most potent addiction I’ve ever known, a drug that laced itself into my bloodstream from the moment I first touched her.

No matter how much I tell myself I need to keep my distance, it’s already too late.

There was never any staying away. I proved that the second I hunted her down and dragged her back here.

I still don’t trust her. I can’t pretend the past never happened, but I have to know if she’s telling the truth. If there’s even the smallest chance, I can’t walk away yet.

Davey was right.

The bastard .

I need to let this run its course because if this is real, then I have to see it for myself. And if it’s not, then at least I’ll know when it ends.

We both work quietly in between my meetings. She hasn’t overheard anything too sensitive, always donning a pair of headphones without being asked. Still, before each one begins, she tilts her head slightly, voice soft as she murmurs, “Should I leave?” Ready and willing to do whatever I ask.

It’s a heady feeling, holding that kind of control over the woman who once slipped through my fingers and is now looking to me for direction.

On one hand, I want to tell her to stop acting like someone she isn’t.

It feels like a mask she’s wearing for my sake.

But on the other hand, it feeds something primal that thrives on the responsibility of it.

“Can I ask you a question?” Elena asks, her voice cutting through the silence and my thoughts like a whip.

My head snaps up from the financial summary I’m supposed to be reviewing. She’s lounging on the couch, laptop now resting on the floor beside her. She’s pressed into the armrest, her long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle at the opposite end.

Forcing my glasses back up my nose, I arch an eyebrow.

“Lena,” I begin, the nickname slipping from my mouth with such ease it feels as though I’ve been saying it my entire life.

“Though I’m thoroughly enjoying this new submissive attitude,” I pause, my eyes raking over her slowly, deliberately.

Her cheeks flush the most delicious shade of pink.

“I want you to speak freely, like you always have. That smart mouth is still my favorite trait of yours.”

“Even if it makes you violent?” she asks, her sinfully raspy voice dipping lower as she echoes the words I said to her the first time I claimed her months ago.

“ Especially because it makes me violent,” I reply, my tongue running over my bottom lip.

Is this how it’s always going to be? I had her this morning, and I’m already calculating the next time I’ll have her again.

She looks at me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking, her lips curving ever so slightly. “How long has your dad been pushing for Jeremy to be COO?” She redirects me without missing a beat.

I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair as I think.

“A few months,” I reply, tilting my head side to side as I sift through my memories.

“He’s always been trying to find a place for Jeremy, but nothing has ever really fit.

You’ve met Jeremy a few times. He’s… my brother, and I care about him, but he doesn’t have the right temperament for what that role needs. ”

She absorbs the information, already working through what it might mean. It reminds me of why I told her about it at breakfast.

Even if I don’t fully trust her, I wanted to tell her. To hear her perspective the way I used to. When she lived here before, I confided in her, talking about my work more than hers for reasons that are clearer now, but it wasn’t just about having someone to vent to.

As Scarlett, she got it. Sharp, practical, and when it came to business, we saw things the same way. That compatibility was one of the first things that made it possible to fall in love with her so quickly. How easily we aligned when talking strategy, how she took an interest in my plans for Wells.

For all the ways she’s betrayed me, I need to know if that part of our relationship—the way we thought together—was real.

Was she interested in my work because she cared for me and the company, or was it only to gain insight to use against me?

The way she reacted this morning felt like it was the former, but time will tell.

It also gives me the opportunity to see what she does with this smaller bit of information. If she can prove herself by keeping this secret, I’ll figure out if I can trust her with anything else somewhere down the line.

Elena nods, her brows knitting. “Interesting,” she says slowly. “Your father doesn’t seem like the type of man to make a decision like this based on emotion. Is there a reason he’s so set on operations?”

I weigh her words for a moment. “Likely to offer him something similar to what was offered to me.”

“That’s what I’m struggling with,” she answers, drumming her fingers against her bicep.

“William has always been concerned about how your work and actions reflect on him, and that doesn’t seem to matter with Jeremy.

Why is the risk worth it now? Does he gain something by having Jeremy in that position that he doesn’t already have with you? ”

I straighten in my seat.

Since deciding a few years ago to leave the COO position vacant, William and I have been splitting the responsibilities that landed outside of our current director, Bethany’s, scope.

If he ever cared to be a part of the conversations I’ve wanted to have about the the transition, he’d know that I had a multi-step plan in place to start off-loading some of his tasks onto Bethany and, hopefully in the next couple of years, she’d be prepared to step into the position and take the responsibilities I hold currently, as well.

But maybe this demand isn’t about trying to make things “fair” between Jeremy and me as much as it’s about what he loses by giving up those responsibilities.

Considering how often we’re at odds over the direction of Wells nowadays, maybe it’s about keeping his hands on the wheel, because if he can’t do it through me, he thinks he can do it through Jeremy.

My skin pulses with the realization.

“Probably because Jeremy would follow his instructions or advice to the letter, no questions asked,” I say finally through a clenched jaw .

My chest constricts. No wonder. This isn’t about Jeremy’s career, and it’s definitely not about guilt. My father doesn’t give a damn about what’s best for his son or for the company, for that matter. He’s doing this because it benefits him .

Elena watches me process this idea, swinging her feet to the floor.

“From what I learned in the cloud, there’s a good chance that whatever Peter is after is operations-related.

If it’s something only your father is currently aware of, could that be the kind of information he’d pass on to Jeremy if he were to step into the role?

” She pauses. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she adds, her voice lower now, “Or could he be planning to use him as a scapegoat?”

It’s a horrifying thought, but one that fits far too neatly into the way my father functions. The answer churns uneasily in my gut.

Resting my elbows on my desk, I steeple my hands in front of my face as I try to untangle the mess her question just dropped in my lap.

“He could,” I admit, the words heavy on my tongue as she stands. “Both feel possible.”

Elena crosses the room to lean against the edge of my desk, right by my side. “I’m not trying to put ideas in your head,” she says, her voice tinged with worry. “There’s always the possibility I’m reading too much into this. But as an outsider, it just feels too coincidental to me.”

She says “outsider” like it’s a simple fact, and I guess I have my father to thank for that.

He cast her out the moment he decided she was using me.

While he wasn’t wrong about her intentions, the reasons he believed were entirely off the mark.

Those reasons make all the difference in the world because they’re why she’s standing here in my home right now and not still tied to a chair.

“No, you’re right,” I admit. A restless energy pushes through me. I push back from my chair to stand, lifting my glasses to rub my eyes. “We've been disagreeing a lot. I wouldn’t put it past him to turn to Jeremy to regain some leverage there.”

Elena watches me as I readjust my glasses, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. Her honeyed gaze flickers as she plays out scenarios, piecing together possibilities she hasn’t voiced yet. I can feel she wants to say something, but she’s holding back.

It frustrates me more than it should.

I take a step toward her, and her eyes widen a fraction as I catch her chin between my fingers, gripping it a little harder than necessary.

“What did I just say about speaking freely?” I mutter, thumb brushing over her bottom lip in a deliberate stroke. Her breath catches, but I don’t let up. My gaze narrows as I wait for her to give me what I want.

"I have a kind of deceptive idea," she finally admits, her face flushing with shame as she looks down. Something in me recoils that her first instinct is still to manipulate, but I force it down. Instead, I dip my head, silently urging her to continue.

She exhales, her voice quieter now. “I think you need to know if Jeremy has any idea what’s going. Maybe if you try to spend some time with him, he'll open up about what he knows. It could make a big difference in how you decide to handle him.”

For some reason, her words surprise me, and I find myself smiling at her despite the weight of the conversation.

“A little deceptive,” I concede, leaning down to brush my lips against hers. Her hands reach for my sides, and that new instinct of hers, the one that leans into me rather than pulling away, is something I could definitely get used to.

“But I agree,” I murmur against her mouth, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “It doesn’t hurt to try and clear the air between us, anyway. I’ll text him and see about getting dinner. Maybe I’ll bring Davey as a buffer. You know how he has a knack for keeping things light.”

Her expression softens. There’s a flicker of something in her gaze—pride, maybe?

Or relief. Either way, it’s enough to ease some of the tension inside me, but plenty of it still lingers.

I can’t ignore the resentment for my brother’s blind loyalty, or how easily he might let himself be used as a pawn.

Worse, he might know exactly what’s going on and is willingly complicit in whatever mess my father has created.

Right now, I honestly can’t decide which would be harder to accept.