Chapter 149 - 148 Fragile Ego
*** EMILY***
Men with fragile egos always assume money is the universal skeleton key to a woman’s heart.
I dab the spilled lemon water off the pristine white tablecloth with a linen napkin, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. Silas Hunt sits across from me, waiting for my answer. He expects me to jump at his ridiculous offer. He genuinely believes rescuing me from a supposedly impoverished security guard is some kind of grand, romantic gesture.
"I am not divorcing my husband," I tell him. My voice is completely steady, offering zero room for negotiation. "The answer is absolutely no, Silas."
The confident, arrogant smirk sliding off his face is incredibly satisfying to watch. He blinks rapidly, completely derailed by my blunt rejection. He leans back in his plush velvet chair, his thick brow furrowing in genuine confusion.
"Why?" Silas demands. He throws his hands up in sheer disbelief. "The entire city knows you married that nobody just to escape your family’s arranged marriage. You picked a random hired gun to spite your father. You don’t actually care about him. Why on earth would you stay in a fake marriage when I am offering you the entire world?"
I place the damp napkin down on the table. He is entirely too comfortable prying into my personal life. The truth is, my marriage to Alistair Wolfe is strictly contractual, but Silas has absolutely no right to know that. I need to shut down this romantic delusion permanently.
"You are operating on terrible information," I say smoothly. I look him directly in the eye, maintaining a perfectly serene expression. "I didn’t marry him casually. I have actually developed very real, very deep feelings for my husband. I am entirely committed to him."
The lie slides off my tongue with surprising ease.
Silas reacts as if I just slapped him across the face. His dark eyes widen, and the color drains from his cheeks before rushing back in a dark, furious red. Panic and rage war openly on his rough features. He cannot fathom losing to a man he considers so far beneath him.
He slams his heavy fist down onto the solid oak table. The crystal water glasses rattle violently against the wood. Zoe jumps in her seat next to me, shrinking back against the upholstery.
"Feelings?" Silas sneers, the word dripping with pure venom. He leans forward, his chest heaving under his flashy suit jacket. "Feelings don’t put a roof over your head, Emily. Feelings don’t buy premium commercial real estate. I have a massive fortune. I control the streets. If you stay with me, every single asset I own belongs to you. You will have a massive empire at your fingertips. That pathetic bodyguard or his boss could work for a hundred lifetimes and never provide a fraction of what I can give you right now!"
*** LEO ***
The sheer, blinding ignorance of the street thug sitting at the table is physically painful to witness.
I stand rigidly by the closed mahogany door, listening to Silas Hunt brag about his meager criminal assets. He is sitting there puffing out his chest, comparing his dirty, extorted pocket change to the unfathomable global wealth of Mr. Wolfe. Alistair Wolfe controls international tech conglomerates, pharmaceutical empires, and highly classified military development programs. Mr. Wolfe could purchase Silas Hunt’s entire neighborhood, bulldoze it to the ground, and build a parking lot without even noticing the dent in his bank account.
Hearing this cheap gangster slander my employer is a massive insult. The absolute absurdity of the situation finally breaches my professional discipline.
A loud, contemptuous scoff escapes my throat. The sound cuts sharply through the tense silence of the private dining room.
Silas snaps his head in my direction. His face twists into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. His fragile pride is already bruised from Emily’s rejection, and my open mockery pushes him completely over the edge.
"What is so funny, you worthless piece of trash?" Silas roars. He points a thick, shaking finger directly at my face, unleashing a string of graphic, violent curses. "You think you can stand there and laugh at me? I will have my men drag you into the alley and break every single bone in your body!"
I look down at him, my expression entirely bored. "You are nothing but a clown."
Silas loses his mind.
He shoves his chair back so violently it tips over and crashes onto the carpet. He charges across the room, pulling his right arm back to throw a heavy, uncoordinated punch directly at my jaw. His form is terrible. He leads with his chin, leaving his entire left side completely exposed.
I don’t even bother raising my hands to block. I simply pivot my left foot and sidestep smoothly to the right.
Silas swings at empty air. The sheer momentum of his own aggressive charge carries him forward. He loses his footing on the thick red carpet, tripping over his expensive leather shoes. He crashes heavily onto the floor, his knees and elbows slamming painfully into the ground.
A low groan escapes his lips. He scrambles to push himself up, his face burning bright purple with absolute humiliation. He spots his heavy wooden walking cane resting near the fallen chair. He grabs the polished wood, his knuckles turning white, and scrambles to his feet. He raises the heavy cane high above his head, preparing to strike me with the solid metal handle.
I prepare to disarm him and snap his wrist in a single, fluid motion.
*** EMILY ***
"Stop right there!"
I push my chair back and step rapidly between Leo and Silas, using my own body as a physical barrier.
Silas freezes. The heavy wooden cane stops inches above my head. He breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling in rapid, jagged motions. His dark eyes burn with a lethal rage, but he doesn’t dare swing the weapon while I am standing directly in the path.
"Put it down," I order him. My voice is completely freezing, stripping away any lingering trace of politeness.
"He insulted me!" Silas shouts, his grip tightening on the polished wood. "He needs to be taught a brutal lesson."
"He is my personnel," I state firmly, holding my ground. I stare directly into his furious eyes, refusing to show a single ounce of fear. "You do not get to attack my people in front of me. Doing so shows an absolute lack of respect for me. If Leo requires any discipline, it is entirely my place to handle it, not yours. Lower the cane right now."
Silas clenches his jaw so tightly I can hear his teeth grinding together. He is trapped. If he strikes Leo, he strikes me. If he backs down, he looks weak. The tense standoff stretches across the quiet room. The heavy silence is suffocating.
The heavy mahogany door suddenly swings open, nearly hitting Leo in the shoulder.
One of Silas’s massive henchmen steps into the private room, holding a thick manila folder. He stops dead in his tracks, staring blankly at his boss holding a cane high in the air.
"The property lawyers finished the paperwork, boss," the henchman says cautiously, holding the folder out.
The sudden interruption shatters the violent tension. Silas lowers the wooden cane slowly, leaning his heavy weight against the polished handle. He dusts off the front of his tailored suit jacket, trying desperately to regain his composure. He snatches the folder from the henchman’s hands and tosses it aggressively onto the oak table.
"Your timing is impeccable," Silas sneers, glaring at the henchman before turning his dark eyes back to me. "There is your precious commercial lease. Read it and prepare to sign. We are done playing games."
I turn away from him and walk back to the table. I pick up the thick stack of legal documents. I do not have a background in contract law, but I brought someone who understands the brutal reality of commercial property agreements.
I hand the folder to Zoe.
"Review every single clause," I instruct her quietly.
Zoe takes the paperwork. Her hands are shaking so violently the heavy paper rustles loudly in the quiet room. She is completely terrified. Sitting in a closed room with a violent mobster who just tried to beat a man with a cane is far beyond her comfort zone. But she possesses a deep, stubborn core of resilience. She swallows hard, taking a deep breath to steady her erratic pulse. She pulls a pen from her canvas purse and begins reading the dense legal text line by line, checking for any hidden extortion traps or unfair maintenance fees.
Silas walks back to his side of the table and kicks his fallen chair upright. He drops into the plush velvet seat, completely dropping the charming, romantic act. The rejection and the humiliation have curdled into a toxic, bitter resentment.
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a fresh Cuban cigar and a silver lighter. He clips the end, places the thick tobacco between his teeth, and strikes the flame.
A thick, pungent cloud of gray smoke instantly fills the private dining room.
My stomach rolls violently. The harsh, toxic smell hits my sensitive senses like a physical blow. The pregnancy makes me incredibly averse to strong, chemical odors. The thick smoke burns the back of my throat, triggering a sudden, overwhelming wave of nausea. I press my hand against my mouth, fighting the immediate urge to gag.
I cannot sit at this table for another second.
I stand up quickly, pushing my chair back. I walk directly to the large glass window at the far end of the room. I grab the heavy brass latch, turn it sharply, and push the window wide open. A warm, humid breeze from the Asuir City streets rushes inside, finally providing a desperate rush of fresh oxygen. I lean against the wooden sill, taking deep, steadying breaths, waiting for the nausea to pass.
Silas watches me from the table, exhaling another thick cloud of toxic gray smoke. He rests his heavy wooden cane against the edge of the table.
"You are making a massive mistake, Emily," Silas says. His voice is cold and detached. He taps the ash from his cigar onto a small porcelain plate. "You can stand there and pretend you have feelings for that silent, useless giant, but we both know the truth. You are choosing to suffer in absolute poverty instead of ruling this city with me. I am giving you one final chance to change your mind."
He leans back in his chair, staring at my back.
"Are you absolutely sure you want to throw your life away on a bodyguard?" Silas demands, forcing the ultimate ultimatum into the smoky air.