My Nemesis, My Fiancé

Right after a massive blowout with my worst enemy, something plummeted from the sky and knocked me out cold. When I finally came to, I decided to play dumb.

I'd fake amnesia and shake him down for some serious cash. "Who are you?" I asked.

He blinked, the shock barely registering before he lied straight through his teeth. "Your boyfriend. We've been together for eight years!" Me: Wait, what???

He leaned closer, eyes locked on mine. "How about a deep French kiss right now? You know, to help wake up your body's muscle memory." This guy was unbelievable.

I was trying to hustle him for his bank account, and he was trying to hustle me for my lips!! Chapter 1 Silas and I had known each other since we were in diapers.

We officially became sworn enemies at seventeen. On paper, we made the perfect pair—childhood friends, both gorgeous, the ultimate power couple. But in reality?

We were oil and water. First thing this morning, he sniped a massive deal I was putting together with Nathaniel's company.

I slapped my palms flat against his sleek office desk and glared at him. "Does it taste that good snatching the food right out of my mouth?

Silas, I officially hate you." Silas leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his long legs, and muttered something under his breath that I didn't quite catch.

Right then, my phone rang. I put it on speaker. My assistant quickly told me that Nathaniel's flight had just landed.

If I wanted to salvage this deal, intercepting Nathaniel was my only shot. Besides, Nathaniel and I went way back to our high school days.

Silas shot up from his chair. "Don't you dare go looking for him. I need to talk to you, Cleo." My blood was boiling. "Watch me! You're not my boss.

You don't own me!" I stormed right out of his corporate lobby. A hurricane was making landfall, and the wind was already howling through the city streets.

I glanced up just in time to get clocked in the head by a glass hydroponic pothos plant blown straight off a secondfloor balcony.

Right before the world went black, I saw Silas sprinting toward me, looking completely unhinged.

That bastard… was he running over to check if I was dead so he could permanently secure my deal? So ruthless.

As my consciousness slowly booted back up, the sterile sting of hospital antiseptic hit my nose. Then, I heard a doctor giving his report. "Ms. Cleo is fine.

She might have a mild concussion, so she could experience some nausea and dizziness in the short term. Just keep an eye on her when she goes home." "Then why isn't she awake yet?

Is there permanent brain damage?" Silas demanded, his voice tight. The doctor cleared his throat. "Uh… Ms.

Cleo is just sleeping." Me, currently faking a coma: …Did I really just pass out for one second and then decide to take a nap? My brain went into overdrive.

I should absolutely use this little "accident" to shake Silas down for some cash. It would perfectly cover the commission he stole from me. The plan?

Fake amnesia and crash at his place. Sure, we were at each other's throats, but our parents were best friends—they were currently off on a fourperson luxury cruise somewhere.

Plus, I was getting sick of eating at Michelinstarred restaurants, and the Beef Wellington made by the highly paid private chef Silas kept at his house was out of this world.

Thinking about the food, my eyelids twitched involuntarily. Immediately, a nurse gasped. "Mr. Silas, she's waking up." Crap, I'm not ready. Acting mode: activated.

I fluttered my eyes open, channeling my most innocent, clueless stare.

Silas rushed to my bedside and waved a hand in my face. "Cleo, how many fingers am I holding up?" He was waving it so fast it was a blur. I couldn't see a damn thing.

So, I weakly brought a hand to my forehead, playing the part perfectly. "I don't know… but… who are you?" Silas froze.

He snapped his head toward the doctor. "I thought you said she was fine! Why does she have amnesia?" Panic flashed across the doctor's face.

He started clicking his pen wildly. "That shouldn't be happening… that really shouldn't be happening." After a long beat, the doctor finally stammered out, "The patient seems to be experiencing temporary memory loss, but don't worry, it should clear up very soon." I offered the doctor a sweet, vacuous smile before turning back to Silas.

Just to really nail the coffin shut on my amnesia lie, I widened my eyes and asked again. "Who are you?" In that moment, my acting skills could easily punch out a Hollywood Alister, rival any Oscar winner, and leave those deadeyed Razzie Award actresses in the dust.

Silas bought it hook, line, and sinker. He hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then, he leaned in, planting his hands firmly on either side of my mattress and caging me in.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, feral and predatory. "I'm your fiancé of eight years, and next month, we're having the wedding of the century." Me: Excuse me???

Chapter 2 Was Silas seeing right through my fake amnesia and playing me?

His large, warm hand cupped the top of my head. "It's okay, Cleo," he murmured. "I'm taking you home." Holy shit. Either I had lost my mind, or Silas had.

I stared at him in pure shock, noticing the rims of his dark eyes were bloodshot. It looked exactly like he'd been crying.

Damn, the hurricane outside must be absolutely brutal if it was making a stonecold bastard like Silas tear up. Maybe my wideeyed stare gave me away.

Silas cleared his throat, shifting his weight. "What? Still don't believe me?

How about a deep French kiss right now, just to help wake up your body's muscle memory?" Before my brain could even process the threat, the tips of his ears flushed a dark, angry red.

He snapped his head away, muttering to the wall, "Just kidding. Relax. We have an audience." I blinked rapidly. That didn't look like a joke at all.

His dark gaze had been glued to my mouth the entire time, looking like he was one second away from actually devouring me. Wait a minute.

I was just trying to hustle him for his trust fund—why did it feel like he was genuinely trying to hustle my lips?

Since I was physically fine, we blew through the discharge paperwork. Walking down the sterile hospital corridor, I caught my reflection in the sliding glass doors. Holy crap.

I had a literal pothos leaf tangled in my rat's nest of hair. I looked like a feral raccoon. Okay, Silas definitely didn't want to kiss me earlier!

He just wanted to get right up in my face to mock me. "Cleo, got the meds.

Let's go home." Silas jogged toward me, the collar of his expensive wool trench coat popped against the chill.

He flashed me a warm, blindingly bright smile, and for a split second, my brain totally shortcircuited. Damn it.

This was the exact version of him I used to harbor a massive, pathetic crush on. When exactly did we turn into toxic, sworn enemies? Let me rewind the tape.

It was our junior year at the elite prep school. Silas was seventeen, and I was sixteen. It was also the exact year Nathaniel transferred in.

Silas was born with the kind of face that ruined lives—a sharp jawline, straight nose, and perfectly carved lips.

He was the undisputed valedictorian, acing every single AP class without breaking a sweat. He was basically the sun the entire student body orbited around.

And naturally, I was the one safely tucked under his golden rays. I had skipped a grade, and my family pulled some major strings to drop me into the exact same homeroom as him.

He carried my designer bags. He paid people to write my history term papers.

Even during brutal cheerleading conditioning, this arrogant, untouchable high school quarterback would literally ditch his own football practice just to jog over to the track, hand me ice water, and run alongside me. "Cleo, if your legs give out, I'll piggyback you all the way home.

Come on, Cleo, you got this!" He was always flashing that easy smile, always spoiling me rotten. He never, ever lost his temper with me.

As a hormonal teenage girl, falling hard for him was basically a biological inevitability. Besides, I wasn't the only casualty—half the cheer squad was obsessed with him.

We were inseparable. Right up until midterms. Nathaniel transferred in just a few weeks prior, and suddenly, Silas had serious competition.

The two of them were neckandneck, matching each other blow for blow in both flawless genetics and GPA.

Rumor had it that the day Nathaniel transferred in, the headmaster was so thrilled he popped two bottles of expensive champagne in his office.

With those two academic weapons on the roster, the school's Ivy League early admission quotas were locked down.

Two days before the AP exams, Silas caught a nasty bug out of nowhere. Severe pneumonia.

A brutal cough rattled his chest, he dropped weight instantly, and he spent all day slumped over his mahogany desk, looking completely drained of life.

Seeing him like that felt like a physical punch to the gut. I didn't even dare breathe too loudly near him between periods, terrified of waking him.

All I could do was sit there, chewing the cap off my pen while staring blankly at a brutal Calculus equation.

Nathaniel happened to stroll past, paused, and leaned over to tap his finger against two critical variables on my worksheet. The formula clicked instantly.

I jotted down the answer and shot him a quick thumbsup. Yep. He really was the only guy in school who could go toetotoe with my Silas.

I was the youngest in the junior class, still clutching onto the last bits of my baby fat.

I was pale and swallowed up by a massive, fuzzy fleece pullover Silas had brought me to fight the brutal AC.

Maybe I looked like a stray golden retriever puppy, because Nathaniel suddenly reached out and ruffled the top of my hair. "Hey there, little Cleo." Caught off guard, I didn't dodge his hand in time.

An icy chill ripped straight down my spine. Chapter 3 I whipped my head around.

Silas was still slumped over his desk, his dark eyes narrowed to lethal slits as he stared dead at us.

The temperature around him seemed to plummet, his jaw ticking so hard it looked like someone had just broken into his vault and robbed him blind.

Roland, our private bodyguard and driver, had taken the day off, so we had originally planned to just take Silas's limitededition Aston Martin back to the estate.

I stood frozen on the marble steps of the main hall, lost, until the shadow of a massive golf umbrella eclipsed the rain above me. I tilted my head back.

It was Nathaniel. "Didn't bring an umbrella?" he asked, flashing a polite smile. "Come on, I'll give you a ride home." I stared into the thick sheet of rain where Silas had disappeared.

A dull, sickening knot tightened in the pit of my stomach. My fingernails dug into the strap of my bag. I had no idea what I'd done to piss him off this time.

Hours after I got home, I hid out in my thirdfloor suite, peering through the rainstreaked window at Silas's study next door. It was pitch black. He hadn't come back.

Didn't he leave way before me? How was he still not home?

I was just about to head downstairs to ask my parents if they had heard anything, when a dark figure finally stepped into my line of sight. It was Silas.

He was drenched to the bone, his expensive clothes plastered to his skin like he'd been dragged to the bottom of a freezing lake. He looked wrecked. Shattered.

Normally, when he walked into his study, he'd glance over at my window to check on me.

Tonight, he strode straight to the glass and yanked the heavy blackout curtains shut, physically cutting me off.

The next morning, Silas was waiting for me by the driveway like nothing had happened, but the silence inside the car was suffocating.

I finally couldn't take it anymore. "Silas, about yesterday—" "Nathaniel drove you home." Silas cut me off. It wasn't a question. It was a cold, hard statement of fact.

As he spoke, he smoothly slipped my designer tote bag off my shoulder and slung it over his own. Silas was acting weirdly possessive, but hey, at least he was talking to me again.

The tight band across my chest finally loosened.

But the second I relaxed, I glanced up and saw Nathaniel standing by the school's wroughtiron gates, offering a friendly wave in our direction.

Silas's gaze snapped from Nathaniel back to me.

His jaw locked. "Does seeing him make you that happy?" That was the exact moment our relationship fractured into a million unfixable pieces.

Like the time I overheard Melody, the undisputed queen bee of the cheer squad, bragging in the locker room about how she forgot her umbrella yesterday, and Silas personally handed her his.

So that was why he ditched me in the storm—he was too busy playing knight in shining armor for Melody. Or the time I noticed a delicate charm dangling from Melody's Birkin bag.

Rumor had it she got a lucky charm from some mysterious fortune teller in Chinatown, guaranteed to bless her with a perfect SAT score.

Coincidentally, two days before Silas caught that brutal bout of pneumonia, he had mysteriously skipped practice to take a trip down to Chinatown.

Or when vicious rumors started circulating that Nathaniel and I were secretly hooking up. I was walking past the locker rooms and explicitly heard Silas drawl, "Who is she to me?

Why the hell would I care enough to ask her?" And then came the day Nathaniel flew out to study abroad.

I was already feeling miserable because Silas and I were barely speaking, the tension between us a living, breathing thing.

He cornered me in the hallway, his eyes flashing with pure malice. "Still crying because your precious Nathaniel left the country?" "Fine.

That massive contract your family was trying to land? I just bought it out from under you." After that, we became fullblown toxic.

It turned into a ruthless game of chicken, pushing each other to the absolute brink, obsessed with forcing the other to finally snap and surrender.

The slam of a car door violently yanked me out of my memories. Silas had parked the car.

Even though our family estates were literally right next to each other, the arrogant bastard had driven me straight to his house. It was time to commit to the bit.

I reached out, threading my fingers through his, and put on my most awestruck, Bambieyed expression. "Wow, boyfriend. Is this your place?

It's gorgeous." I felt every single muscle in Silas's back instantly lock up.

The afternoon sunlight hit the side of his face, illuminating the violent flush of crimson crawling up the tips of his ears. He slowly turned to face me.

His dark eyes were unnervingly intense, stripping away his usual arrogant armor. "My name is Silas," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "You used to call me that all the time.

Could you… just call me Silas once?" Me: Uh… since when did I ever call him Silas affectionately? My contact name for him had been 'Stubborn Jackass' since we were seventeen.

But fine. If he wanted to play a twisted little game, I was going to raise the stakes until he choked.

I leaned in just a fraction of an inch closer, lowering my voice into a sickly sweet purr. "Did I really call you Silas before?

That sounds a little boring now, don't you think?" "How about I just call you hubby?

Hubby~ Does that work for you?" I might not be able to crush him in the corporate boardroom, but I was going to make his skin crawl until he begged for mercy!

Chapter 4 Silas froze, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Hahaha, scared the crap out of you, didn't I? But then, the corner of his mouth curved into a faint, dangerous smirk.

He leaned down and slowly wrapped his arms around me. "Cleo, my sweet wife." Wait, what??? His voice was a low, gravelly vibration against my ear.

It sounded so unfairly good that my brain shortcircuited, forgetting to fight back as he interlaced our fingers and led me inside the massive estate.

The sprawling mansion was dead quiet. Helen, the private chef and housekeeper, had taken a few days off. So much for scamming my way into her legendary cooking.

Major miscalculation on my part.

Silas rolled up his dress shirt sleeves and stood at the openconcept marble kitchen island, pansearing toptier Tomahawk steaks. "Wifey, you want a filet or a sirloin?

Wifey, is mediumrare okay?" How the hell was the word 'wifey' rolling off his tongue so naturally?

Was this his twisted way of humiliating me? "Wifey, grab some chocolate to hold you over. Top shelf of the fridge." I yanked open the custom SubZero fridge.

The entire top shelf was stocked with artisan hazelnut chocolate—my absolute favorite. When I was a kid, I was obsessed with sugar, but my parents were incredibly strict about it.

I always had to beg Silas. And somehow, he always magically produced a stash. Holy crap. No wonder he always had chocolate on him back then.

The arrogant jerk actually had a sweet tooth this whole time! I chewed on a hazelnut truffle, leaning against the counter to watch Silas cook.

He was somehow even more devastatingly handsome than he was in high school.

With his broad shoulders and narrow waist, he looked like a runway model doing a GQ shoot in a kitchen apron.

The chocolate suddenly tasted a little bitter on my tongue as the memories of him sneaking me candy as a kid crashed over me. He set the plates down.

He gave me the flawless, perfectly rested centercut filet, while his plate was just the bone and the fattier edge pieces. If only I actually had amnesia.

Then I wouldn't have to worry about him lacing my food with arsenic. The portion was massive.

When I couldn't finish it, Silas casually pulled my plate over and polished off my halfeaten steak without missing a beat. Okay, confirmed. Not poisoned.

Later that night, right before bed, the atmosphere shifted into suffocating awkwardness. And for once, it wasn't me who was awkward. It was Silas.

He stood rigidly in the doorway of the master suite, shifting his weight. Seriously? This was his bedroom. Why the hell was he acting like a nervous wreck?

We had known each other since we were in diapers. "You take the bed tonight. I'll sleep in the guest suite next door.

Yell if you need anything," he said, his voice a little too tight. I narrowed my eyes. Oh, I see. He was trying to sneak off to close the business deal behind my back!

Right after dinner, I had explicitly overheard him barking orders at his executive team over the phone, demanding they set up a video conference with Nathaniel tonight to finalize the contract!

Not on my watch.

I reached out and hooked my finger through the belt loop of his slacks, yanking him back. "Silas, we've supposedly been dating for eight years, and we're not even sharing a bed?

Unless…" I let my gaze slowly drift downward, my voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "Unless… you can't get it up?" Silas's jaw locked so hard I thought his teeth would shatter.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he suppressed sheer murderous rage. He looked pissed. Which meant I was thrilled.

I ducked behind him, slammed the heavy mahogany door shut, and flipped the deadbolt. Click. No one was signing any damn contracts tonight!

I batted my eyelashes at him, the picture of pure innocence. "Come on, Silas.

Sleep with me tonight~" He wanted to play the fake boyfriend to keep me under house arrest so I couldn't poach his deal? Fine.

I was going to weaponize this 'girlfriend' title and chain him to this room!

I didn't have any pajamas, so after my shower, I walked out wearing one of Silas's oversized dress shirts. My hair was dripping wet, but I didn't care.

I couldn't risk leaving him alone long enough to blow dry it, terrified he'd pick the lock and run off to sign that paperwork. Silas hadn't moved to escape.

Instead, he was pacing circles around the Persian rug at the foot of the bed. Dude was getting his ten thousand steps in without even leaving the room.

He looked like he was vibrating with anxiety, a dark crimson flush crawling up his neck and dusting the tips of his ears.

Hahaha, sweating because you're missing your multimillion dollar conference call, aren't you? He shot a quick, dark glance in my direction.

Whether it was guilt over the stolen deal or something else, the flush on his neck deepened violently.

He cleared his throat, suddenly stuttering like a malfunctioning robot. "I—I'm going to take a shower." "Okay! Scrub real clean for me!" I chirped.

Silas practically sprinted into the master bathroom, slamming the door behind him like the devil was on his heels.

Bored out of my mind, I flopped backward onto his massive kingsized bed. I stared up at the ceiling, then casually glanced over at his walkin closet.

He hadn't shut the custom closet doors all the way.

And there, hanging conspicuously from the handle of an interior drawer, was a very familiar charm from a Chinatown fortune teller.

Chapter 5 This lucky charm… it looked exactly like the one Melody got from that fortune teller in Chinatown. After high school graduation, Silas and I went to the same university.

It seemed like he cut ties with Melody. Making my life a living hell was a fulltime job; he probably didn't have any free time to date.

Once, I casually mentioned that the varsity football team's quarterback was pretty hot. Silas told me my taste was garbage.

The very next day, he suited up, walked onto the practice field, and tackled that quarterback so hard the guy was practically eating turf.

When the poor guy looked like he was about to burst into tears, Silas strolled over, standing right next to me with a venomous smirk. "This is what you like?

A crybaby?" Another time, I commented that the tennis team's captain had great muscle definition. Silas sneered and said I hadn't seen the real world.

The next day, he paraded around in front of me wearing a tight tank top. He kept deliberately lifting the hem to wipe his sweat. It was the dead of winter.

I used to complain about how jealous I was of girls getting red roses on Valentine's Day. That year, I received a massive, terrifyingly spiked cactus. From Silas.

Other girls got romantic bouquets; I got a weaponized houseplant. Just as I was lost in thought, Silas stepped out of the bathroom, looking weirdly tense. "You go to sleep first.

I need to get some work done," he muttered. No way! Was this bastard trying to sneak off to finalize the deal and make millions while I was passed out?

I lunged straight at him, throwing my arms around his waist and locking him in place. "No, you can't leave." Before he could even formulate a protest, I tilted my head up, widening my eyes into a pathetic, pleading gaze. "Hubby, stay.

Keep me company~" Silas didn't say a single word. He spun on his heel and marched right back into the bathroom. Wait, didn't he just take a shower?

I didn't have time to dwell on it. I practically sprinted to his unlocked laptop.

I quickly reformatted his computer login and reset the smart lock on the master suite doors, changing every single password to my birthday. Heh.

Tomorrow morning, I was going to be the absolute first person out that door to intercept Nathaniel! By the time I finished my sabotage, Silas was out of the shower again.

He walked over, holding a Dyson hair dryer. "Come here, Cleo. Let me dry your hair." I plopped down in front of him, hiding a wicked smile.

Since I was playing the amnesia card anyway, I might as well boss him around. "Silas, the air isn't strong enough. Silas, you missed a spot right here.

Silas, it's still a little damp at the roots. Silas…" I was being a nightmare, an entitled brat, but he didn't lose his temper once.

He just patiently humored every ridiculous demand until I settled down. The warm air and his fingers massaging my scalp made my eyelids incredibly heavy. Crap!

I forgot about the meds. The doctor had prescribed painkillers with a heavy sedative. I slumped backward, collapsing straight into Silas's chest. His body stiffened.

He gently scooped me up and lowered me onto the massive bed.

Sensing him pulling away, I reached out through the haze of the sedative and grabbed his forearm. "Silas, don't go." "Okay. I'm not going anywhere.

Just sleep." His body heat was radiating like a furnace. The early autumn night carried a sharp chill, and in my halfconscious state, I instinctually glued myself to his chest.

As I drifted off, I vaguely heard Silas exhale a long, heavy breath. "If only this was real." If only what was real? Was he actually wishing I had permanent brain damage?

The next morning, my eyes snapped open. Silas was gone. The bedroom door was wide open. My passwords! I scrambled out of bed, threw on my clothes, and practically flew out the door.

It's over. Silas definitely hacked my locks and sneaked out to sign the contract with Nathaniel! I bolted down the sweeping staircase at breakneck speed.

The second I snatched my designer tote off the console table, I caught sight of Silas standing casually in the kitchen. "You're awake?" he asked, turning around with an easy smile.

His dark eyes dropped to the bag gripped in my hand. His smile faltered. "Did you… remember?" Chapter 6 Caught redhanded, I couldn't exactly keep playing the amnesia card.

I straightened my spine, crossed my legs on his custom Italian leather sofa, and tried to look as intimidating as possible. "Pay up.

I want compensation for mental distress, plus emotional damages for you illegally impersonating my fiancé.

Wire five million dollars to my account right now." The light in Silas's dark eyes instantly dimmed. The faint smirk vanished from his lips, replaced by a tight, unreadable line.

What, did I ask for too much? He suddenly looked up, locking eyes with me. "Cleo, do you want twentyfour billion?" The man was an absolute master of sarcasm.

If he thought five million was too steep, why didn't he just say so? Twentyfour billion dollars. That was the exact market cap of his entire global tech empire.

Was he offering me his whole damn company? I waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not that greedy. I just want my five million!" Silas let out a slow, heavy exhale. He didn't argue.

He just slid a plate piled high with fluffy black truffle scrambled eggs across the marble kitchen island. "Eat your breakfast." Without another word, he turned and headed up the sweeping staircase.

He was still wearing a thin silk sleep shirt, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his usually commanding presence muted. Wait a second.

An uncomfortable thought suddenly clicked in my brain. I had wiped and reset the smart lock on his bedroom doors last night. How the hell did he get out?

While I was aggressively chewing on my truffle eggs, the heavy front doors chimed. Helen, his private chef, walked in after scanning her thumb on the biometric pad. Ah.

Fingerprint recognition. Right. Helen's eyes lit up the second she saw me. "Ms. Cleo! The young master asked me to go out this morning and buy—" "Morning, Helen!

Bye, Helen!" I interrupted, bolting past her. I snatched my designer tote and practically sprinted out the door.

The second I hit the sprawling driveway, I dialed Roland, our family's head of security and private driver. "Roland, pick me up.

I'm right outside Silas's front gates." Roland paused. "Uh… what?" While I waited by the towering wroughtiron gates, a prickling sensation crawled up the back of my neck.

I felt eyes burning into me. I whipped around, but all I saw was the wind shifting the sheer curtains on the secondfloor balcony.

My contacts were slightly dry, so everything was a little blurry anyway. Roland's sleek Maybach pulled up a minute later.

I jumped in, instantly dialing my project manager, and we sped straight to the fivestar luxury hotel where Nathaniel was staying. Nathaniel didn't look surprised to see me at all.

He just glanced over my shoulder toward the empty hallway. "You came alone? Where's Silas?

Didn't you two drive over together?" I scowled, clutching my leather briefcase tighter. "Are you seriously trying to wait until we're both in the room so you can pit us against each other and spark a massive bidding war?" Nathaniel blinked, giving me an utterly baffled shrug. "Aren't you two on the same team?

Besides, since when does Silas's company ever compete with yours?" "Excuse me? Never compete?" I scoffed. "I literally eavesdropped on him last night.

He told his board he was finalizing the contract with you!" Nathaniel calmly took a sip of his black coffee, leaning back in his velvet armchair. "Silas is the one who's been negotiating with me, yes.

But he was negotiating on your behalf.

He spent the last month convincing me that your firm had the best industry experience and distribution channels." My jaw practically unhinged. "He… was negotiating for me?

Setting up the contract for my company?" Nathaniel waved a hand, completely indifferent to my internal crisis. "Yeah. Going to bat for the girl he's crazy about.

Pretty standard stuff, right?" The air was violently knocked out of my lungs. A sharp ringing echoed in my ears. Silas? Liked me?

Silas liked me, so he gifted me a terrifying, giant spiked cactus for Valentine's Day?

Nathaniel took another slow sip of his coffee, an amused, mocking grin spreading across his face. "You've got to be kidding me.

It's been years, and Silas still hasn't confessed?" "The guy was totally obsessed with you in high school.

During midterms, he and I were assigned to the same testing room, and the crazy bastard literally cornered me just to mark his territory." My brain completely flatlined.

Did those two have some kind of insane showdown back then that I knew absolutely nothing about?

Chapter 7 "On the day of midterms, Silas got to the testing room early and completely hijacked my assigned desk," Nathaniel continued, leaning back in his velvet chair. "When I walked in, the guy didn't even flinch." "He just slowly looked up, glaring at me like he wanted to bury me under the floorboards. 'Rumor has it you're dating Cleo,' he said. 'Give me an explanation.

Now.'" I listened, captivated, as Nathaniel recounted the showdown. "I didn't back down either. I told him, 'Why the hell should I explain anything to you?

Who are you to her?'" Nathaniel chuckled softly. "Then, Silas violently kicked the chair back and stood up. He snapped, 'I'm not just someone to Cleo.

I belong to her, and she belongs to me!'" Nathaniel took a sip of his coffee. "I actually laughed right in his face.

The guy looked like a cold, calculating genius to everyone else, but deep down, he was just a fiercely territorial, hormonal teenager.

So, I just asked him straight up, 'You're in love with Cleo, aren't you?'" "His eyes went wide.

He shortcircuited," Nathaniel said, shaking his head in amusement. "First he snapped, 'What kind of garbage are you spouting!' and then, two seconds later, he muttered, '…It's the truth.'" I sat there, my mind completely blank. "I honestly didn't know whether to laugh or feel bad for him.

The arrogant bastard was actually kind of pathetic when it came to you," Nathaniel added. "I told him, 'Silas, let me be crystal clear.

I don't have feelings for Cleo.'" "The murderous aura around him instantly vanished. Watching his face change that fast was hilarious, so I decided to mess with him a little more.

I said, 'Hey, why don't you just ask Cleo if she has a crush on me?'" Nathaniel smirked. "Silas froze, looking awkward. He grabbed his bag and grumbled, 'Who is she to me?

Why the hell would I care enough to ask her?'" As Nathaniel finished his story, I sat there, paralyzed by disbelief. "Nathaniel, did you get amnesia at some point?

Or did they put you through some kind of experimental memoryaltering program while you were studying abroad?" Nathaniel choked violently on his coffee, coughing into a linen napkin. "Are you kidding me?

Do neither of you possess the basic human ability to communicate?

Just go up to him and ask, 'Silas, are you in love with me or what?'" After leaving Nathaniel's hotel suite, I handed the preliminary contract details over to my project managers and headed straight out to find Silas.

Option one: Just ask him directly. "Silas, do you like me?" There were only two possible outcomes to that kamikaze mission.

Scenario A: He says no, and then mercilessly roasts me for being a delusional narcissist.

Scenario B: He says yes, and then mercilessly roasts me for being an absolute idiot who took eight years to figure it out.

Either way, I was going to end up as the punchline to his joke. And honestly? I didn't have the guts.

Deep down, I was terrified of hearing him say those four words: I don't like you. I could only bring myself to trust about eighty percent of Nathaniel's story, anyway.

The lingering ghost of Melody and her lucky charm was still a massive, painful red flag waving in my mind.

Before my brain could fully process my own feet, I found myself standing outside the towering glass facade of Silas's corporate headquarters.

The hurricane was officially making landfall, tearing through the city with blinding rain and howling winds.

My designer trench coat was completely soaked through, and wet leaves were plastered to my expensive heels.

I must have actual, legitimate brain damage from that falling pothos plant. I should be curled up on my plush sofa, bingewatching reality TV and eating popcorn.

Instead, I had marched out into a literal hurricane to confront Silas over an unconfirmed rumor? Even if he did have a crush on me in high school, that didn't mean anything now.

Panic spiked in my chest. I spun around to run, but a large, intensely warm hand violently clamped down on my wrist.

A heavy wool overcoat was thrown over my head, shielding me from the torrential rain. I tilted my head back. Silas was standing right there. His dark eyes were bloodshot.

The tip of his nose was red from the freezing wind, and when he spoke, his voice was tight, cracking slightly under the strain. "What?

Did you come all the way out here to brag about closing the deal with Nathaniel? Or are you here to brag about your new relationship?" I didn't answer him.

Instead, I stared up at his face. "Why are your eyes red? Have you been crying?" Silas viciously swiped a hand across his jaw, looking incredibly defensive. "The hell I was crying.

The wind is blowing straight into my eyes