“There were things to say, Silas.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches and he searches my face for something. His heart pounds harder under my fingertips. I want to ask why he’s so frightened of a man he barely knows, but we both know the answer.
“Don’t you trust me?” I whisper.
He fingers the curls around my face as he ponders the question too long.
“Can you trust yourself around him?” he asks.
His eyes meet mine again and I know that he’s right. How many times have I fantasized about falling into Jeremy’s arms, holding him, belonging to him again? Now he’s here, so close. How long before I give into the fantasy? What would that do to my family, my son, the man I promised to cherish forever? What would that do to me?
“I promised to help him find out what happened to him.”
Silas swallows and his eyes narrow. The wrinkles on his brow deepen and his upper lip twitches ever so slightly. I wish that I could ease his worries.
“Has he remembered more?”
“Not much. But I think that I… I need to see this through.”
“And after that, where does it end? After you find out how he disappeared, what next? Are you going to feel obligated to help him find an apartment and then to get him settled into work again and…”
“After that,” I cut in.
I pause and swallow. He waits, nostrils flared and jaw twitching. I’ve practiced my next words since I left the therapeutic center. I know what I need to do to reassure Silas, to protect my family, the only family I’ve ever had.
“Then,” I force myself to continue, “then I won’t see him alone again. We can see him all together for family stuff and I can take Levi to visit him. But I’ll keep my distance. So you’ll never have to worry. So you’ll know that OUR family is my priority. So you know that I love you.”
I search for relief in his eyes, but I find none. Those grey pools grow glassy as he lowers his lips to mine. The kiss he presses into me overflows with fear and possession. I welcome him with reassurance and tenderness. I’m barely aware of moving backward as Silas steers us into the bedroom.
The door closes and his hands yank at my clothing with urgency. His tie is loose, hanging around his open collar, but he doesn’t bother to remove his clothing. Once he’s ripped every stitch of fabric from my body, he crowds me against the door. The bed is only a few meters away and a sturdy occasional table rests in the sitting room nook; but as Silas weaves one hand into my hair and grips my jaw with the other, I know we won’t make it to either.
He owns my mouth as I clench his shirt. When he pulls away, his strained breaths fill my ears and I look into his narrowed eyes.
“Sometimes I wish I hadn’t fallen in love with you, Sylvie,” he rasps. “Part of me knew that you’d destroy me one day. But I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t fight it. And now I almost wish you’d put me out of my misery.”
His words tear into me almost as much as the brutal anguish in his eyes.
“Don’t say that,” I whisper.
His hand gentles in my hair and I lift to my toes to kiss his chin, then his jaw, then his cheeks. I kiss every inch of his face and the tension drains from his body. Groaning, he lowers his hands. He slides them over my flesh as I continue to blanket him with sweet pecks. Those broad palms reclaim every inch of my skin as he caresses and strokes.
He lets loose a frustrated roar as he lifts me by my ass and wraps my legs around his hips.
“Fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying lately,” he mutters as he tugs down his zipper. “I could never let you go, baby.”
His hard cock springs out and he shoves into me, slamming my back into the door. The low inarticulate sound he squeezes out of me makes him moan into my neck.
“Having you like this is torture,” he rasps. “But losing you would be utter obliteration.”
I reach for his mouth as he swirls his hips, grinding against my clit. With both my hands on his face, I kiss him—trying to furnish with my lips the reassurances my words have failed to impart. He moans and shoves in again. When he swirls this time, his tongue gets in on the action, sweeping my mouth as his cock plunges into my sex. The third thrust against the door is every bit as brutal as the first two. I’m straining for breath as he continues his tortured rhythm.
Swirl. Shove.
Swirl. Slam.
Swirl. Pound.
The cold metal of his zipper scrapes at my thighs as he grinds against my naked flesh. He doesn’t relent. There is no pause. Only a mind-scraping, flesh-searing climb to the exquisite release that we both need so desperately.
I come first. Grunting his name and slamming my head back against the door. He bites into my neck and sucks hard drawing out my orgasm in a blinding flash of sensation. Then he drives me into the door. Pounding into me, branding me with his relentless possession. He comes with a guttural howl. His forearm crashes into the door over my head as he cries out.
I struggle to breathe, impaled on his length with only his arm to support me and the pressure of his body pinning me to the door. He gulps air and exhales a few times before he helps me get my feet under me. He doesn’t back away. His hands cradle my face and he kisses me again. His hands are wrapped around my throat when he pulls away. His swollen lips and flushed cheeks reveal how vulnerable he is. His thumb strokes over my throat with a hint of violence and a dollop of frustration before he carries me to bed and wraps me into his arms.
“Tell me you love me, baby,” he whispers into my hair.
“I do love you. I’m not going anywhere, Silas.”
When he holds me tighter, I can’t tell if it’s because he believes me or because he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. I know where my loyalties lie. I’ve given everything I have to Silas already. There is none of me left for Jeremy.
Chapter Fifteen
The sliding doors open and I jerk my head up to see an elderly woman with blue hair and a cane hobble toward the front desk.
“You’re going to give yourself a neck pinch if you keep doing that.”
Jim looks up at me with the sternness of an older brother. I grimace.
“Your boy’s going to love you,” he adds. “Try to relax.”
Swallowing, I nod and try to slow my breathing.
But I can’t stop it from quickening when the doors open again. My head rises more slowly this time. She breezes in, managing to make jeans and a blouse look like a million dollars. Sparkling eyes meet mine and she smiles. I remember kissing that mouth like it was just yesterday. Her lips are every bit as plump and dewy as they were the last time I tasted her. But that’s not why she’s here today. My gaze falls to the boy holding her hand and my jaw drops. The resemblance was easy to see in the pictures, but something about the way he swings his little arms and looks around the room hits me hard.
“Well, he’s definitely your kid,” murmurs Jim. “You’re going to do great,” he adds before he rolls away.
I’m smiling as I watch them. The boy is talking and pointing as his mother looks down at him. My smile grows broader every second until he walks in the door. Silas is still fit, casually dressed in tan pants and a golf shirt. He places a hand on her hip and pecks her temple. The bastard changed so little in the years I’ve been away. The arrogant jut to his jaw reminds me of all the times he’d instructed my parents on how to skirt the law. He used to take my brother to strip clubs and seedy bars. Back then, Noah told me stories about his prowess with women. Rumor had it that Silas never had an empty bed.
They always invited me. I was the future of Bradford Enterprises and Silas was desperate to earn my loyalty. But he was always a scoundrel and I never wanted anything to do with him. Not then and even less now.
He looks happy. His face is tan. He’s got to be approaching forty by now, but not even a sliver of grey pokes through around his temples. He raises his hands to Sylvie’s shoulders and gives their names to Clint. I can’t hear him but I see the word
s.
“Silas, Sylvie, and Levi Chambers.”
My son has his name. I want to vomit. I don't show it. I focus on the little boy that looks like me and when he meets my gaze I see so much of his mother in the way he studies me. He clings to her as they approach and I take a couple of steps to meet them half-way.
Smiling at her, I reach for her shoulder to kiss her cheek, but Silas is there. Before my hand reaches her, his palm intercepts and clasps hard.
“Good to see you again, Jeremy,” he says as he shakes it. “You look good.”
His words are pleasant but everything about the man sends a clear message. He might as well have pissed a circle around the family he’d stolen from me.
I lift my chin and smile at him.
“Good to see you too, Silas.”
A little hand on my leg draws my attention and I look down at my son.
“Do you know how to climb a tree?” he asks.
Thrown for a moment by the easy articulation of the three-year-old beside me, I don’t know how to answer. The last few weeks have been a relearning of a lot of basic motor functions. I could climb a ladder and even a rope, but I hadn’t tried any trees.
“I don’t know,” I answer with a smile.
“Hmm,” the little boy snorts.
He pulls at my pants until I drop to one knee. We’re eye level and my son inspects my face with curiosity that I know he gets from his mother. He pokes me in the cheek and the jaw and pats my hair before nodding.
“I could teach you,” he says. “We just have to find the right tree.”
My heart swells and I swallow so much emotion.
“I’d like that,” I tell him. “But right now, it’s story time in the garden. Do you want to check it out?”
The boy looks up to his mother who nods.
“Okay,” he says, with enthusiasm that makes me chuckle.
Then he wraps his little fingers around Silas’ hand and tugs.
“Come on, Daddy, let’s go,” says my son to the man who married the woman I love.
I stand. I don’t show any of it, and I gesture for them to follow me into the garden.
* * *
The lawn is populated with little bodies for story time. Lots of families come out for it and there are at least a couple of dozen children. The ages vary as do the physical and intellectual capabilities, but the sounds of children are always the same. I enjoy the briny air as I watch them play, as I watch the family that should have been mine.
She’s a wonderful mother. I knew that she would be. But seeing it is… amazing. She joins in the games with him, she settles him when he gets fussy, she says ‘no’ when he wants to eat the entire bowl of M&Ms and comforts him when he cries. When he falls and scrapes his hand on a rock, she has an antiseptic wipe and a bandage.
“She’s incredible, isn’t she?”
I look up from where I’m sitting in the grass and he’s there. The determination written on his face tells me he’s revved up for a well-rehearsed ‘chat.’ He wants to make text of the subtext from earlier. I want to roll my eyes and watch my son play, but there’s no escaping this moment. I look back at Sylvie and Levi. They’re playing ring around the rosy and Levi laughs as everyone falls down.
“She always was,” I answer.
I keep my eyes on them. I give him nothing. I’m not making this easier for him. The whole thing is killing me; why should he get a pass?
He nods. A snort puffs out of his nose and then he takes a swig of his water bottle.
“You never liked me. Did you?”
I don’t answer. The question is rhetorical.
“I was hoping that you might be grateful enough for your recovery to… move on. But I can see that you’re not ready to do that just yet.”
Pausing, he sits in the grass next to me and takes another sip of water before he continues.
“There are some things you should know before you try to steal my wife, Jeremy.”
Unflinching, I meet his gaze and I wait. He takes his time before he utters his next words.
“She’s not as strong as she looks. You messing with her head will have… consequences.”
“Is that a threat, Chambers?”
My eyes don’t leave his. He shakes his head.
“I’m not going to threaten my son’s father. I’m offering you some advice.”
“I don’t need your advice about Sylvie, counselor, and Levi isn’t your son.”
He swallows and I feel a twinge of guilt. My son isn’t a pawn in this. Whatever else Silas has done, he cared for my son as if the boy were his own.
“I’m sorry,” I add quickly. “I am grateful for everything you’ve done for them.”
“But you don’t trust me.”
I want to tell him I think he’s a manipulative bastard and that I don’t know how he’d won a woman as smart and capable as Sylvie. I want to ask him how he’d managed to make her believe he was anything but a wretched little scorpion.
“Does she know how you used to spend your free time?” I ask, instead.
“That was a long time ago. Before I met her, before I became a father.” He pauses and I pretend his words don’t sting. “I keep very little from my wife,” he adds.
“She deserves someone who doesn’t keep anything from her.”
He blinks a few times before he looks over at Sylvie. They’re playing London Bridge now. Exhaling, he shakes his head.
“Sylvie told me that she’s helping you investigate your disappearance and I want to be of whatever assistance I can be. My law firm has an investigator you’re both welcome to use. I also have a tech team looking into some hospital and police records from back then. I want you to get the answers you need so you can both move on.”
“I’m marshaling my own resources, Silas. There is nothing you can offer me that I can’t get on my own.”
Nodding, Silas stands again and brushes off his pants.
“Your choice, Jeremy. But I’m coming back on Monday afternoon so we can talk properly.”
I squint at him. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him not to bother. I hear his message loud and clear. But something in his eyes makes me want to hear what he has to say, know what he knows. I offer a curt nod and he mirrors me. He turns away and I’m glad the conversation is over.
The rest of the afternoon is delightful. I push Levi on the swings and I race him around the garden. We go from one tree to the next searching for one that’s fit to be climbed. I’m exhausted by the time they leave. Levi hugs me in a way that makes my eyes glassy before Sylvie squeezes my hand. Silas only nods and walks away. We share a brief moment of eye contact before he leaves and that’s when I recognize it; the look in his eyes when he sees me is guilt.
Chapter Sixteen
I’ve just tucked Levi into bed when the doorbell chimes. We’re not expecting visitors. Walking down the steps, I hear Silas’ voice at the front door.
“…I wasn’t expecting you tonight. We’ve had a long day. I’ll come by first thing tomorrow…”
“Absolutely not,” shrills the visitor. “Where is your wife, Silas?”
I freeze on the steps when I hear Sharon Bradford’s voice. Warring impulses tug at my limbs. I want to crouch down the steps so I can hear everything but remain unseen. I want to storm to the door and slam it in her face.
“She’s resting. I can give her a message for you.”
“Wake her up! I need to speak with her.”
“You can tell me whatever you need to tell her and I’ll take care of it.”
I smile and a happy tear slips down my face. Silas has always protected me from the Bradfords—just as Jeremy had before him. But sometimes I need to fight my own battles.
Lifting my chest, I take my time walking down the steps. I know they can hear me coming. The large foyer echoes with my every step. I see her before I reach the bottom. Short silver hair frames the most sour of sour faces. Steely blue
eyes narrow when they lock on to me. She always looks at me that way, but this evening, there is something more menacing in her gaze.
“Good evening, Sharon.” I wait at the bottom of the steps and let her come to me. I refuse to be berated for her latest whim in my own doorway. “Can I offer you some tea?”
“I won’t be here long enough for tea,” she snips.
Tugging off a pair of driving gloves and shoving them into her Louis Vuitton bag, she huffs and then marches over to me. Her five-foot-ten-inch frame drags a long shadow on the marble floor as she moves. I still myself when she stops, standing too close, and looks down her patrician nose to glare at me.
“Isn’t all this enough for you?” she sneers.
“Excuse me?”
I regret asking for clarification as soon as the words escape my lips. She has a speech prepared already. Best to just let her get on with it so she’ll leave. I brace myself when she opens her mouth again.
“You have a wealthy husband, we take care of your son. You’re living the luxurious life you always wanted.”
Taking a small step closer so she’s right on top of me she bares her pearly white teeth.
“So why can’t you stay away from my son?”
I can’t hide the look of confusion on my face.
“Don’t play innocent. He told us you offered to help him ‘investigate’ his disappearance.”
Her long beige claws slice at the air as she hisses the word ‘investigate.’ It takes all of my strength to hold my ground instead of stepping away from her, but I do. I can’t show her how intimidated I am. I can’t let her bully me again.
“It’s perfectly clear,” she adds, “that this is just a ruse to get close to him again. To worm your way into the Bradford family. But it’s not going to work. Levi is a Bradford, but you’ll never be.”
Placing her hand on my arm she softens her face and sighs.
“Sylvie, I don’t mean to be cruel. Despite my early reservations, you’ve been a fair mother to my grandson. You simply lack the proper…” looking me over and wrinkling her nose, she lands on, “breeding.”
Everything Stolen Page 8
