His low, husky laughter washed over her, sending a fresh wave of heat
through Elara's veins. She glanced up at him, a mixture of embarrassment and
defiance in her eyes.
"What's so funny?"
At the red light, Silas eased his foot onto the brake and turned his
head. His deep-set peach-blossom eyes, always tinged with a natural seduction,
crinkled at the corners. The look in them was enough to steal a soul—or at the
very least, make Elara's heart stutter dangerously in her chest.
Then she saw his lips curve, a slow, devastating smile. "You called me
'husband.' It's only right that I acknowledge it."
"That…" she stammered, feeling the blush creep all the way down her
neck. "That was me introducing your identity to my friend. That's all."
"Mm. I see. Introducing my identity… as your husband." Silas nodded, the
picture of solemn understanding, though his eyes sparkled with unspoken
mischief.
Elara's own eyes, wide and luminous like shimmering spring water,
glistened with a flustered charm. She suddenly understood the text message from
her friend, Chloe: "Trust me, he'll love hearing you call him that."
How had she not seen it? That simple introduction had played right into
his hands. This wasn't about clarifying his role to Chloe; it was about hearing
the word from her lips.
They said a woman's heart was a labyrinth of twists and turns, but this
man—this husband of hers—was a master navigator.
Feigning annoyance, she turned her head to look out the window, but she
couldn't suppress the sweet, cotton-candy sensation blossoming in her chest. It
was soft, addictive, and left her craving more.
Silas's smiling gaze lingered on her profile until the light turned
green.
Back at the Oculus, the housemaid Martha had already prepared lunch and
departed. By the time they finished their meal, it was nearly half past one.
Silas retreated to his study to handle business, and Elara, remembering the
short drama premiering at two, grabbed her tablet and settled onto the plush
lounge chair by the floor-to-ceiling window.
Halfway through his video conference, Silas came out for a glass of
water. He found her there, curled up, the tablet casting a soft glow on her
intently focused face. She looked both nervous and excited, her voice a hushed
whisper as she watched something he couldn't quite hear.
Curiosity piqued, he changed course.
At two o'clock sharp, Elara hit play on the first episode. The opening
scene began to roll when a familiar, crisp scent enveloped her, and a warm
presence leaned in from behind.
"What has you so captivated?"
Startled, she jerked around—and her slightly parted lips brushed against
the side of his face.
The touch was electric. His skin was warm and taut over the elegant bone
structure, so different from her own softness.
Silas hadn't expected such a delightful surprise. A low chuckle rumbled
in his chest. He cupped the back of her head, holding her gently in place, and
turned the accidental peck into a deliberate, searing kiss.
When he finally pulled away, Elara's eyes were hazy and wet, the corners
tinged with a delicate pink. Her breath came in unsteady waves.
He said he wanted kisses, and now he took them with a natural ease that
was both thrilling and disarming. And she… she was becoming alarmingly
accustomed to the taste of him.
Silas took a deep, steadying breath, fighting back the surge of desire
she so effortlessly ignited. His thumb gently stroked the flushed skin at the
corner of her eye.
"What were you watching so intently?" he asked, his voice still dark and
rough from their kiss.
Ears burning, Elara picked up the tablet and held it out to him. "It's a
new revenge drama. Forbidden Love."
One eyebrow arched in interest. Silas took the tablet, his eyes scanning
the screen. A minute later, he had settled onto the wide black leather sofa,
pulled her into the cradle of his arms, and restarted the episode.
Elara initially felt stiff, unnerved by the dark plot that hit a little
too close to home and by the powerful man currently using her as a pillow.
Silas Thorne, the man who casually closed multi-billion dollar deals, didn't
seem the type to binge-watch melodramatic short dramas.
Yet, he did more than just humour her. He watched, fully engaged, as the
story unfolded.
The heroine, once a cherished daughter, was orphaned at ten and cast
aside by cruel relatives until she ended up in an orphanage. Her luck turned
when a wealthy, kind-hearted family adopted her. They had a son, five years her
senior, who became her beloved older brother.
But on her eighteenth birthday, she uncovered a horrific truth: her
adoptive parents weren't her saviours; they were her parents' murderers. With
no proof and no power, she buried her hatred, biding her time.
That's when she discovered her brother's secret: he was desperately in
love with her.
Seeing her path to vengeance, she drew him into a web of forbidden
attraction, making him fall even deeper. She knew his parents would never
accept their relationship, and when the time was right, she let them discover
the secret affair.
The fallout was explosive. His parents were furious, demanding he cut
ties and send her away. But he, consumed by a love that bordered on obsession,
refused. He fought for her, willing to abandon everything.
She, of course, refused to run. She only wanted to deepen the rift, to
use his devotion to uncover the evidence she needed.
In the end, her plan worked perfectly. Her brother, unknowingly used as
her pawn, was the one who himself revealed the bloody truth: his father was the
half-brother of hers, a man consumed by jealousy over an inheritance left to a
rival he deemed illegitimate. The crime was one of greed and a twisted family
legacy.
She had her revenge. Her adoptive parents were led away in handcuffs.
But as her brother—broken, betrayed, and utterly lost—walked past her
without a single glance, she realised the devastating cost. In destroying them,
she had also destroyed the one pure thing in her life. Her heart was now as
empty as hers had once been.
The final scene faded to black. Elara remained quiet for a long time,
curled against Silas's chest, her thoughts a turbulent sea.
Silas put the tablet down and gently stroked her hair. "It was well
made. The conflict was strong, and the emotional payoff was effective."
Elara turned to look at him, surprised to see genuine appreciation on
his typically reserved face.
A small, flattered smile touched her lips. "That's a surprisingly
professional review. Anyone would think you binge short dramas in your spare
time."
His smile widened. "I don't. But I'm surrounded by enthusiasts. Ethan,
Martha… and Ingrid."
Elara's eyes went wide. "Aunt Ingrid watches these?" The image of the
formidable, nearly sixty-year-old matriarch of the Winslow family—a woman who
exuded pure, undiluted power—glued to her phone watching dramatic twists was
unimaginable.
"Oh, yes," Silas confirmed, amusement lacing his tone. "And she spends a
small fortune on un-lockable chapters." He picked up the tablet again and noted
the drama's title. "You should send the name to her. She'd appreciate the
recommendation."
Remembering their exchanged texts the night before, Elara smiled and
sent the link to Ingrid. But as she watched Silas's focused profile, the
question that had been gnawing at her throughout the drama resurfaced, its
weight suddenly unbearable.
"Can I ask you something?" she ventured, her voice soft.
Silas paused, set the tablet aside, and fixed his deep, dark eyes on
her. The air shifted, grew heavier.
"What did you just call me?" His tone was low, deliberate, layered with
unspoken meaning.
Elara's breath hitched. She lowered her lashes, lightly biting her lower
lip before murmuring, "…Husband."
A look of profound satisfaction warmed his features. "Good girl," he
praised, his voice a velvet caress. He cupped her face and placed a soft,
lingering kiss on her forehead. "Remember to call me that from now on."
A tremor went through her. His tenderness, his sheer happiness, was so
palpable it made her chest ache. She nodded, a soft "Mmhmm" escaping her lips.
After a moment of silence, gathering her courage, she finally asked the
question that haunted her.
"You don't want your family to know about the pregnancy yet… is it
because of Julian?" She searched his eyes, her voice barely a whisper. "Are you
worried he'll cause trouble? Or… are you afraid he could be like the father in
that drama?"
Silas's body went still. The warmth in his eyes cooled by a fraction as
he slowly released her. The relaxed atmosphere shattered, replaced by a sudden,
chilling tension.