His Holiday Prohibition

Chapter 4

TRUTH OR DARE

~MAYA’S POV~

The fire in the big stone fireplace was blazing, burning logs as big as small trees, but I still felt cold. It was a deep chill that seemed to come from the glass walls.

Outside, everything was gone.

The storm had turned into a white blur, hiding the mountains, the sky, and any chance of getting away. We were stuck in a fancy glass room at the edge of the world.

"Another one?" Chloe chirped, refilling my wine glass before I could say no.

We were sitting on the plush leather rug in front of the fire. Well, Chloe and I were on the rug. Silas was sitting in the high-backed leather armchair just behind us, acting as the silent guardian.

He had a glass of amber liquid in his hand—an old bourbon that probably cost more than my mom’s car. He swirled it around, the ice clinking against the glass. Clink. Clink. Clink. It was like a ticking clock counting down to some disaster I couldn’t quite put my finger on yet.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, grabbing the glass. I took a big sip. The fancy Pinot Noir felt smooth, but man, it burned going down.

I felt eyes on me.

I didn't need to turn around to know he was watching. I could feel the effect of his gaze on the back of my neck, prickling the fine hairs there. He had been doing it for hours…watching me eat, watching me read, watching me breathe.

I shifted, tucking my legs under me, turning slightly so I could see him from my side eye.

He was relaxed, legs stretched out, ankles crossed. But his eyes were alert. He watched my throat as I swallowed the wine. His gaze traced the movement of my esophagus, then dipped lower to where the top button of my blouse was undone.

He took a slow sip of his bourbon, never breaking eye contact. It felt like he was drinking me.

"I am bored," Chloe groaned, dropping back onto the rug and staring at the vaulted ceiling. "The wifi is still down. The TV won't load. We are living like pioneers."

"Pioneers didn't have heated floors and a five-thousand-dollar wine cellar, Chloe," Silas said. His voice was rich and deep, rumbling through the quiet room.

"Whatever," she sighed. She sat up suddenly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. The alcohol had made her cheeks flush and her inhibitions drop. "Let’s play a game."

"I am not playing Monopoly," Silas said dryly.

"No. Something fun. Truth or Dare."

I froze. "Chlo, we are not twelve."

"Come on, It’s better than staring at the fire," She looked at her dad, batting her eyelashes. "Please, Daddy? Unless you are scared?"

Silas arched a dark eyebrow. The challenge was obvious. He wasn't a man who backed down from anything, even a teenage slumber party game.

"I have nothing to hide," Silas said smoothly. He looked at me. "Do you, Maya?"

My heart hammered. "No."

"Great,” Chloe clapped her hands. "I will go first. Maya. Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," I said quickly. The last thing I wanted was a dare involving physical movement in front of him.

"Boring," Chloe teased. "Okay. Truth. If you could sleep with one celebrity, who would it be?"

I let out a breath. Easy. Safe. "Henry Cavill."

Chloe giggled. "Solid choice. Superman. I see you."

She turned to Silas. "Okay, Dad. Truth or Dare?"

Silas swirled his drink again. "Truth."

Chloe tapped her chin, thinking. She was tipsy, swaying slightly. "Okay... Truth. You have everything, right? Money, the company, the houses. Is there anything you want but... can't have?"

The room went silent. The only sound was the crackle of the fire and the wind howling against the glass.

Silas didn't answer immediately. He took a long, slow sip of his drink. Then, he set the glass down on the side table with a deliberate thud.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked directly at me. Not at Chloe. At me.

"Yes," he said softly.

"Really?" Chloe asked, unaware of the growing tension in the air. "Like what? A private island? A spaceship?"

"Nothing that trivial," Silas murmured. His eyes were locked on mine, pinning me to the rug. "I want something... forbidden."

My breath hitched.

"Something that doesn't belong to me," he continued, his voice dropping to a rough whisper that clawed at my insides. "Something I should be protecting, but instead... I want to break it."

Chloe laughed, clearly thinking he was talking about a corporate takeover or a rival’s company. "You're such a shark, Dad. Always wanting what the other guys have."

"Yes," Silas said, a cruel smile touching his lips. "A shark."

He didn't look away. The message was clear. ‘I am the shark. You are the water. And there is nowhere left to swim.’

"My turn," Silas said.

He didn't ask Chloe. He looked at me.

"Maya. Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," I whispered. I couldn't handle a dare. Not after that.

"Coward," he taunted softly.

"Truth," I insisted.

"Fine." He leaned back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. " tell me, Maya. What is your biggest fear?"

I swallowed hard. "Failure."

"Liar," he said instantly.

"Dad," Chloe scolded. "You can't call her a liar”

"She is lying," Silas said calmly. "Try again."

I licked my lips. They felt dry. "Being alone," I tried.

"Closer," Silas mused. "But still a lie." He stood up. The movement was sudden, filling the space with his sheer size. He walked over to the fireplace, adding another log, his back to us. "I think your biggest fear is that you actually like the things you're supposed to hate."

I couldn't breathe. He saw right through me. He saw the darkness I tried to hide under oversized sweaters and good grades.

"Okay, my turn” Chloe interrupted, sensing the mood getting too serious, though she didn't understand why. "Maya, you have to pick Dare. You've done two Truths. It's the rules."

I looked at her, panicked. "Chloe..."

"Dare! Dare! Dare!" she chanted, clapping her hands.

I looked at Silas. He had turned back around. He was leaning against the mantle, the fire framing him like a demon king. He folded his arms, waiting.

"Fine," I breathed. "Dare."

Chloe grinned wicked. She looked around the room, searching for inspiration. Her eyes landed on Silas. Then back to me.

"Okay. Since we're all adults here..." She giggled. "I dare you to kiss the most attractive man in the room."

My blood ran cold.

Chloe laughed at her own joke. "Since he's the only man in the room, I guess you have to kiss my Dad."

"Chloe, no," I said, my voice rising in panic.

"It's just a game, Maya, Just a peck on the cheek. Don't be such a baby. Unless you think he's ugly?"

"I don't... that's not..." I stammered.

"A dare is a dare," Silas’s voice cut through my stuttering.

I looked up at him. He wasn't laughing. He wasn't brushing it off as a silly teenage game. He was watching me with an intensity that burned hotter than the fire.

He pushed off the mantle and took a step toward me.

"Well, Maya?" he challenged. "Are you going to forfeit? I hate quitters."

I stood up. My legs felt shaky, like I was walking on a ship in a storm.

I took a step toward him. Then another.

Chloe was clapping in the background, a distant noise I barely heard. All I could see was him. The top button of his shirt was undone, revealing the hollow of his throat. His pulse was beating there….steady, heavy.

I stopped six inches away from him.

He smelled of smoke, leather, and that sharp, metallic scent of winter. He smelled like sin.

"Do it," he whispered. A command.

I rose up on my tiptoes. I meant to aim for his cheek. I really did. I was going to give him a polite, dry peck on the jawline and sit back down.

But as I leaned in, he turned his head.

Suddenly, his mouth was inches from mine.

I froze. I should have pulled back. I should have run.

But I didn't.

I hovered there, suspended in the magnetic field between us. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. I could feel his breath, warm and laced with bourbon, ghosting across my lips.

My eyes fluttered shut. My body swayed forward, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. I wanted it. God help me, I wanted to close that gap. I wanted to taste the bourbon on his tongue.

"Maya," he breathed.

His hand twitched at his side, his fingers curling into a fist, as if it took every ounce of his willpower not to grab my hair and devour me right there in front of his daughter.

The mood was charged. You could feel the suspense. A rubber band pulled so tight it was about to snap and take an eye out.

I tilted my chin up. My lips parted slightly.

"Enough." The word was a growl. Harsh. Violent.

Silas stepped back as if I had burned him.

I stumbled forward, catching my balance, my eyes snapping open.

Silas was breathing hard. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes were black pits of desire and fury.

"Game over," he rasped.

Chloe stopped clapping. "Dad? What the hell? You ruined it"

"Go to bed," Silas ordered. He didn't look at her. He couldn't take his eyes off my mouth. "Both of you. Now."

"But it's only nine o'clock!" Chloe protested.

"I said now, Chloe" he roared.

The sound echoed off the glass walls, shaking the room.

Chloe flinched. She looked at him, wide-eyed and sobered by his sudden rage. "Fine. God. You're such a buzzkill."

She scrambled up, grabbing the wine bottle. "Come on, Maya. Let’s go."

I couldn't move. I was still trembling from the near-miss. My lips tingled where his breath had touched them.

"Maya," Chloe urged, tugging my arm.

I turned, dazed, and followed her toward the stairs. I could feel him behind me. A dark, brooding presence. He hadn't moved.

I walked up the stairs, my legs heavy. I reached the landing and turned toward the East Wing.

"Goodnight, Maya," Chloe grumbled, disappearing into her room and slamming the door.

I walked toward my own door. My hand reached for the handle.

A large, warm hand clamped around my wrist.

I gasped, spinning around.

Silas was there. He had followed me up the stairs silently. He dominated over me in the shadowed hallway, blocking out the light, blocking out the air.

He didn't pull me closer. He just held my wrist, his thumb rubbing aggressively over my racing pulse. He was checking. He was making sure I was as affected as he was.

He leaned down. His lips brushed the shell of my ear, sending a violent shiver racking through my entire body.

"Don't lock your door," he whispered.

It wasn't a question. It wasn't a request.

He released my wrist, turned on his heel, and walked away into the darkness of the West Wing. I stood there, clutching my burning skin, staring at the empty hallway.

‘Don't lock your door.’ Was it a threat? Or was it an invitation?

And the most terrifying part was... I didn't know which one I wanted it to be.