Chapter 7 - The Gala
1605 Words
“Silas! Over here!” “Harper! Look at the camera!” “Is it true about Emma Rhodes?”
My breath hitches. Being a Holloway, I know what it’s like to live with a lot of pressure. This is different, though. For the first time since that incident when I was fifteen, I feel fragile. I don’t like the feeling.
“Remember the rules, Harper,” Silas whispers, his gravelly voice somehow cutting through the noise.
“H-how do they even know…about her?”
“They’re the paps. What do you think?” he asks, a little sullenly. He doesn’t like it, either. “Right now, all that you need to know is to lean into it. Lean into me.”
There’s no reason to argue. We are a team now. I take a deep breath to calm the surging panic. Then, I nod at him with a tight smile. He returns the gesture. It looks like we are conversing silently…because we are.
Silas steps out of the car, his towering frame a shield. Cameras flash. More photographers scream. Fans shriek and jump up and down. When I look back at my partner in crime, his hand is extended. I don’t hesitate this time. I need him as an anchor, and I do feel safer when my hand slips into his larger and rougher one.
“Vane! Holloway! Over here!”
Chloe Russell, an infamous high-society reporter, somehow manages to breach the velvet rope with her microphone.
“Silas, the rumor mill is again spinning,” she barks, her eagle eyes upon us. “Fans are wondering how you’re dating the Holloway heiress in what seems to be a whirlwind romance, but a certain Emma Rhodes hints that you two don’t go back as far as you claim, and that you’ve been dating her, instead. How is a man who is known to shun relationships in two entanglements these past few months?”
I hate this.
I was clear about what I feel about someone possibly ruining all our plans. My sacrifices will be for nothing. I could have done a completely different publicity stunt to save my own hide. But no, I must save Silas Vane, too.
And the man has other plans. He pulls me closer to his heavy frame, his arm around my waist. I can feel the heat of contact against the silk at the back of my dress. I almost completely freeze when he leans down, his mouth brushing against strands of my hair.
“Tell her how we met, sweetheart,” he murmurs against my ear, “or would you like me to give them the unedited version?”
Something heavy pools in my lower belly, and it knocks me hard that my knees buckle. It’s a good thing this man is practically carrying me around his arm. I force the sort of smile I always give the press.
“Close proximity is the answer,” I say, knowing full well that doesn’t sound like a straight answer. “We work within the same circles. However, we also had our conflicts, brought about by who we are, and certain people find themselves slipping in. They can’t admit when something’s ended.”
I inwardly cringe at my words. It suggests that Silas and I had a short falling out, and that I’m okay with him getting together with some woman during that time. The asshole is lucky this isn’t real because that won’t work at all with me in real life.
The cameras go wild.
“Good girl,” Silas whispers, making me feel another wave of heat in my belly. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, especially after the -
I shake my head as unwanted thoughts come over me.
“I had to say something,” I grit out, “even though it makes me sound like a fool.”
“Oh, you aren’t a fool, Harper. Not by a long shot.”
“Of course, I know that,” I retort grumpily, until my eyes catch a few familiar faces, especially that of Alexa Dayne, my best friend. Her eyes are narrowed at me.
Oh no.
I know that look.
“Be alert,” Silas murmurs, as he grips my waist even more tightly; it almost hurts. “
Before we can even take another step toward Alexa and the hockey players who stand with her, someone else has intercepted us.
Richard Sterling.
He’s one of the youngest stakeholders in my father’s franchise at age thirty-eight. He practically literally has his nose up in the air.
“Harper, darling,” he says condescendingly, “I want to know what your father was thinking. I knew the team had to be saved, but should it be at your expense? Why do you have to parade around with a brute? He should be in a cage and not have his arms wrapped around a Holloway.”
Silas goes completely rigid. I must admit Richard surprised me with his nerves of steel, taunting a man who could tear him apart. Then again, it’s probably a test. Silas can’t display acts of violence anymore if he wants a few more years in the NHL.
For some reason, I feel a surge of protectiveness for the huge man whose hand is anchored on my waist.
“Richard,” I reply, my voice dropping low. “You are a stakeholder. Therefore, you should know that Silas is our highest-performing enforcer. Even his aggression has benefits. People want to see him. They don’t want a boring game. He’s also very loyal to the team.”
“Well, well,” Chase Ford cuts in, a grin plastered across his face. Eddie Ramirez is right behind him with an identical expression. “It looks like the Butcher finally finds someone to calm him down.”
“Good evening, Miss Holloway,” Eddie cuts in. “So, that’s why he’s been acting like a lovesick puppy lately.”
Oh?
“Excuse me, gentlemen, may I borrow my best friend, please, for a little cosmetic emergency?” Alexa smoothly intercepts.
She glares at Silas before she pulls me out of earshot.
“What’s all that about, Harper? How come I didn’t know about this?” she asks.
I feel terrible for the lie that comes out of my lips, but I need to sell this. I just need to.
“It’s complicated. I - I started off not even liking him. So, I didn’t think it right to tell you during its early days.”
“I heard you’ve been dating secretly for months! What the hell, Harper?” Alexa demands, tossing her long, auburn hair.
Before I can respond, a booming voice interrupts us through the microphone.
“To celebrate our generous patrons, we would love to invite our favorite new couple to open the floor. Let's welcome Silas Vane and Harper Holloway for our opening dance!”
The crowd applauds. The team starts whistling from the bar.
I find Silas’s eyes across the room. There is nowhere to hide. I walk toward him, meeting him at the edge of the polished wood floor. As the live orchestra swells into a slow, sweeping, melancholic melody, he pulls me into his arms.
How can he be so graceful and huge at the same time?
Silas anchors his palm flat against the bare skin of my lower back, molding my frame directly against his until there is literally no space left between us. I gasp, my hands coming up to press against his chest, my fingers tangling in the fabric of his white shirt. Our knees brush with every step.
“It looked like you defended me,” he says in a low voice that borders on a growl. Not an angry one. An appreciative one,” back there with Sterling. Why?”
“Do you really think I’m supposed to badmouth you?” I ask, and I see something fleeting come over his face. “It’s part of our script, unlike you, who may go rogue with your secrets. Like with Emma Rhodes.”
“Little liar,” he accuses with a smirk, even as his thumb rubs the skin on my back. I shiver. Why is my damn body a goddamn traitor? “I can feel your heart, Harper. That’s how close we are right now. Do the beats work with the strategy, too?”
“I am not comfortable,” I lie. For a huge, intimidating man who’s been in so many brawls, he never quite poses a threat to me. “You know I have anxiety. Be honest. You’ve seen how my hand trembles sometimes.”
He tilts his head to one side thoughtfully, the smile wiped off his face. I almost feel bad. In that moment, everything else disappears. My eyes remain on his, as if my next mission in life is to see what other thoughts are in his head.
“Careful,” he murmurs,” If you keep looking at me like that, I might -”
He doesn’t get to tell me what his threat is.
Bzzzz.
A violent, heavy vibration rattles directly against my palms. It’s his phone, buried in his inside jacket pocket—right beneath where my hands are anchored to his chest.
“Do I need to see you, Silas? Do I need to show everyone that what we have is real and that the little frigid heiress is nothing but a lie?”
My heart stutters, but this time it’s with that familiar uncertainty. Doubt clouds my mind once more. What do I know about men?
Only deceit.
- Writer
