Chapter Twenty

Chloe

Iwaited until we were back at Silas' apartment before I let my true feelings show.

"Silas—"

"I'm sorry." He cut me off abruptly but without any heat behind it. "Chloe, I'm so sorry."

"For what?" I asked, curious about the inner workings of his mind. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? He'd been as quiet as I had after his father had dismissed all of us, even Caleb, without resolution.

His look screamed "Are you joking?" "I'm serious. I'm sorry for how this has played out. With the way you became involved in this."

I nodded, sensing he wasn't done. I was right.

"I can't imagine that, when you signed up to come over here, this is what you imagined you were volunteering for," he said, shaking his head, hair falling into his face. "Not even close. You probably expected it would be all smiles and laughter."

Relenting on him slightly, I shook my head. "Not really. After all, I was volunteering for some sort of relationship. Those are never easy and true. There are always hardships. Tests. Things that make you want to scream and rip your hair out. Yell at the other person. Things that make you just want to snap and say ‘screw it' and leave it all behind. That all comes with the territory. I never expected anything else. In fact, that was probably the only thing I knew was guaranteed."

He laughed, but his mood didn't change. "All very true. But you understand my point."

"I do," I said, reaching up to push a particularly thick chunk of hair out of his face, so I could see into his eyes better.

He nuzzled my hand slightly as I did it.

"But the truth is, that despite all that—and there has been some—it's been worth it, Silas."

"It has?"

I nodded, unable to stop myself from pouring out some of my deeper, more personal thoughts. The ones that should remain behind my mask but that kept finding their way through to the surface. "It has. Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"Because of you," I said, tapping his chest with my index finger. "You've made it bearable. Worthwhile. You've stepped in, barely knowing me, and made me feel not only welcome but protected, among other things."

Fire danced in his eyes for a moment. We both knew what I was referring to. But that wasn't the purpose of the conversation.

"If it makes you feel any better," he said, "all this bullshit isn't how I expected it to go either."

"Maybe a little," I said, smiling up at him.

"But as you said, you've made dealing with it all worthwhile."

I licked my lips. The mission wasn't going at all how I'd expected it to. Was it real? Or was it some sort of fast-acting Stockholm Syndrome? It was all blending together, and I wasn't sure what was my job and what was the truth anymore, at least as far as Silas went.

Would it be such a bad thing if I fell for the one person I might be stuck with for the rest of my life? He would make it more than bearable …

Silas pulled me closer, using one finger to tuck hair behind my ears while the others gently caressed my face. The honesty of his words poured out from him, filling his face and hands as they touched me with surprising gentleness for someone so big. I could almost feel it, it was so palatable.

He truly did feel bad about it all. He truly did care. About me.

Warmth sparked in my stomach. Not of a sexual nature, though that still burned in the background, speaking to unfulfilled needs. But at that moment, right then, our eyes locked in unspeaking connection. There was nothing sexual. Only open and true caring.

I came to a realization in that instant. An understanding, that while I might report in and give the information to my handlers they wanted so badly, I was never leaving the island. Not because it would be impossible, though it might be, but because I didn't want to. I wanted to stay.

With Silas.

It was a compromise. I wouldn't abandon my mission, my oath, but I also wasn't going to risk my life to try to leave. Not when I was already happier than I'd ever been. All because of him.

You're insane, I told myself.

Am I? Or is this something worthwhile? Maybe Silas isn't the real enemy. After all, we started the war, technically. They were just trying to get one of their own back. I would do the same thing, so how can I call him one of the bad guys, just for trying to get one of his own?

The logical side of my brain flew through a list of reasons longer than the credits after a movie about how that was just plain twisted logic. My heart tossed the arguments aside, beating stronger and faster in response. It didn't care. Silas was different, it insisted. Very different.

"What do we do now?" I asked, desperate for a distraction from my own brain. There would be plenty of time to argue with it in the shower at a later date. Maybe I'd even win.

"That's up to you," Silas said, still caressing my cheek, his other hand draped around my back, holding me close with a firm grip, though not so tight as to feel forced. "We can finish up shopping, if you want?"

"Don't you like this dress?" I pouted, looking down.

Silas gave me a toothy grin. "I think I made my opinions on that known back in the store. If you recall …"

"I do," I replied, my voice suddenly thick and nearly hitching on the last word.

"Good. But my point was I didn't know if it was ‘the' dress in your opinion. Or if you wanted to try on some more."

Looking up at him, watching his eyes dart from my face, to my body, and back again, I smiled, and reached up behind my neck. "I think there's only one last thing to do to make sure it's the right dress."

Silas' eyes followed my every motion with burning intensity as I untied the knot.

"We'll have to see what it looks like on the floor," I purred, letting the top fall, baring my body to the waist for him to see.