Page 34 of Ugly Truths (The Veiled Truths Trilogy #2)

Elena

A wildfire blazes through my veins as I approach Silas’s office. The door, now seemingly never locked, slams against the wall as I storm inside. Silas’s head snaps up from his laptop. My chest heaves. There’s a beat of silence. Someone clears their throat on the other end of his video call.

I don’t care.

Not that I left Jeff and Natalie in the basement, startled when I abruptly ended my session fifteen minutes early. Not that Silas could be speaking with someone extremely important. Nothing matters except the headline that popped up on my home screen when I took a water break.

Wells Heir Spotted Again with Jewelry Mogul Alice Lancaster

The insufferable gossip article would have been easy to ignore if not for the photos that tinted my vision red.

Picture after picture showed Silas and Alice at the bar.

One had him smiling at her with an easy, charming grin.

Another showed her tilting her glass toward him in a subtle toast. What pushed me over the edge was the shot of her leaning into him, hand curled around his bicep, laughing like they’re sharing some private joke .

Funnily enough, this interaction didn’t make it into any part of our conversation when he got home at two in the morning.

“Beth, I think I have an emergency,” Silas says, eyes locked on me. “I’ll give you a call this afternoon if I have any notes, but overall, this looks great. Good work.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Just closes the laptop and sets it on the far edge of his desk. Then, taking his sweet time, he leans back in his chair and turns to face me head-on.

Those curious, coffee eyes scan me from top to toe. “What’s wrong?”

My fingers curl tighter around my phone. I can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Words are beyond me. This feeling is a living, breathing thing under my skin, demanding to be acknowledged. The onslaught of fury burns so brightly that it makes my eyes water.

I’ve never allowed myself to feel it, especially not with Silas. I didn’t have the right to claim to him before, no matter how badly I wanted to.

But it’s different now.

I inhale deeply, roll my shoulders back, and fix a smile on my face that doesn’t quite mask the storm raging beneath.

“Remind me again,” I start, placing my phone on the corner of his desk with more force than necessary. The sharp thud draws his eyes to it before they flick back up to mine. “How was last night?”

Confusion passes across his face, but it’s gone quickly, replaced by that infuriatingly calm expression. His gaze sweeps over my disheveled braid. Wild frizz escapes from it, and the unmistakable flush of anger burns on my skin.

“Uneventful,” he says, far too measured.

My pulse pounds in my ears. Motherfucker.

I close the distance between us and lower myself onto him, bracketing his hips with my knees. My rash guard and biker shorts are damp with residual sweat, ruining his slacks and collared shirt. He blinks rapidly, but his hands remain on the arms of his chair .

I lean in slowly, so close that our chests brush, my lips barely grazing his in a featherlight touch while threading my fingers into the base of his soft curls. His breath hitches, but he still waits.

“How was Alice?” I hiss, voice sharp as a blade.

Silas stiffens for just a moment before relaxing beneath me. Then he dares to let out a low chuckle.

A fucking chuckle .

“She was at the club with some friends,” he explains. “We ended up at the bar at the same time.”

He moves to touch my waist, but my hands snap to his forearms, slamming them down against the armrests. The impact echoes through the study.

His teasing demeanor shifts just enough to send a pulse of electricity through the air. “Careful, Lena.”

I ignore the warning, my heart hammering as I press closer. “She really seemed to be enjoying herself,” I say, biting off each word. “My favorite photo was the one where she’s holding onto your arm.”

There’s a long moment of contemplation, his tongue running over his top teeth. Beneath my grip, his muscles flex, testing the restraint, but he doesn’t push. We both know he could move me in an instant.

“You, of all people, know better than to read into gossip magazine photos,” Silas provokes, though his voice is smooth as silk. Just as the final word leaves his lips, he’s leaning forward to close the gap between our mouths. I retreat a fraction of an inch. His smile deepens.

He thinks this is a game.

My insides churn as I reach for the knot of his tie, toying with the fabric between my fingers. Then, wrapping the tail around my palm once, then twice, I tug him forward with slow, deliberate precision.

Our noses brush, his breath warm against my lips. A low vibration rumbles deep in his chest. I can’t tell if it’s a growl or a hum of approval, but it sends a rush of heat down my spine anyway.

“I understand to the outside world, I don’t exist,” I whisper, my voice eerily calm. “But in this house, I do .”

His muscles contract beneath me.

“You chose to hold on to me, Silas Wells.” Our chests are flush now, my frustration shaking his body almost as much as it’s shaking mine. “And we agreed on monogamy.”

For a moment, he stays still, as if waiting for me to break first, but I would rather chew on rocks than give him that much right now.

When I don’t relent, his once-compliant hands begin to move. They skim over the sides of my thighs. As they round to the curve of my ass, his grip tightens enough to drag a soft gasp from my lips. His knowing smile grows as the restraint continues to unravel.

“You’re a goddamn vision,” he murmurs while giving me another teasing squeeze. “I should piss you off more often.”

A pulse of irritation shoots through me. “This isn’t a joke,” I snap, though my voice wavers as I tug at the tie still wrapped around my wrist. “This is about respect and boundaries.”

Silas lifts an eyebrow, his hands resuming their deliberate exploration. One hand slides up my back, slipping beneath the hem of my rash guard, fingers splaying across my bare skin. His calloused palm presses firmly against my spine.

“Boundaries,” he repeats, tasting the word. “What are your boundaries, Lena?”

A shiver rolls through me, involuntary and damning.

“Boundaries,” I repeat, trying to focus. “For starters, no more letting other women get comfortable enough to touch you.”

His lips twitch slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt. The hand on my back moves higher, his thumb tracing a lazy path along my spine and under my sports bra.

“Go on.” His voice is so composed that it only makes the feral glint in his eyes more pronounced.

I grit my teeth. “No more lingering conversations with women, especially ones you’ve slept with,” I continue as he leans in, lips brushing the hollow of my ear .

“Anything else, princess?” he asks, his other hand slipping down to my waist, his thumb beginning to trace slow, maddening circles against my hip. “I want to make sure I’m very clear on your expectations.”

I arch into him without thinking. The tie slips from my wrist as my hands flatten against his chest. My head lolls, granting him access I hadn’t intended to give.

“That covers it. No touching. No lingering conversations. And you make it clear you’re taken by… someone,” I answer, stumbling on the last word. “That’s all of it.”

As I finish my demands, his lips descend on me, tongue tracing the column of my throat in one devastating sweep. A shudder rips through me.

“Feel better now?” he murmurs against my skin, biting down in the junction of my shoulder and neck just hard enough to make me inhale sharply. “Because I do.”

“Asshole,” I manage, but there’s no real resistance.

A low chuckle vibrates through him as he presses a lingering kiss to my collarbone before raising his head. Those capable, practiced hands find the waistband of my shorts.

“I could get used to this,” he muses.

My breath catches as his fingers slip beneath the fabric, the contrast of his cool touch against my burning skin making every nerve in my body snap to attention.

“Get used to what?” I ask, though the words sound more like a pant than a question.

“You.” His lips curve into a half-smile against my jaw, fingers ghosting along the edge of my underwear. “Barging in here like you own the place.”

Heat licks up my skin, spreading to the apples of my cheeks, but not just from his touch.

How can he be so unbothered?

Sometimes, it seems Silas doesn’t truly understand the impact he has on people and what they might do to hold his attention .

“How would you feel if it were the other way around?” My voice is quieter than before.

Silas pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. The warmth that was there just seconds ago hardens.

Suddenly, he’s swiveling to face his desk and, with too much ease, lifts me off his lap and onto it. The mixture of the cool wood and the growing distance between our bodies leaves me feeling exposed.

There’s a brief pause while he exhales through his nose, though his hands come to rest on my knees. “I don’t have to imagine it because I saw it when you were on that date.”

Oh.

The memories I pushed into the recesses of my mind come barreling to the front. Harrison’s hands on me, his tongue in my mouth. The way I sat there and let it happen, played my role, because that’s what I was supposed to do.

I don’t realize my eyes have dropped to the space between us, my mind sinking into the dark waters of that night, until Silas is suddenly standing over me, forcing my chin up with his fingers.

“I wanted to break every bone in his hands,” he says with no hesitation. “One by one.”

A slow, traitorous warmth blooms low in my stomach. I shouldn’t like the way that sounds, but I do.

The pad of Silas’s thumb strokes slowly across my skin, back and forth, before stopping in the small space between my lip and chin. He holds me there, refusing to let me slip away from his gaze like I used to. Even though every instinct screams to retreat, I force my eyes to stay on his.