Chapter 6
MAYA
“Should I be shaking? Because between the kidnapping and the fake wedding, I’m all out of fear.”
“You should be.” He pointed a finger at me, then at himself. “You’re looking at the man holding the leash, Maya, but you haven’t seen the dogs yet. Marriage to me is the only thing that keeps you from being torn apart by this family.”
“Is that your version of a fairy tale? You’re the hero now?” I stood up, my chair scraping harshly on the floor. “I don’t need a savior, especially not one who buys people. If I’m in a cage, Silas, you’re the one I’m going to bite first.”
He slowly stood up and walked around the desk toward me. He stopped just inches away, his eyes lit up in a way that made me nervous.
"Careful, Maya. I might enjoy the bite."
He looked back down at his drink, a smirk appearing on his face as he stepped away. "You have plenty of fire. Let's see if it's still burning when you meet my father.”
The smirk vanished as quickly as it appeared. I wondered how bad his father could actually be. After everything that had happened today, I didn't think there was anything left that could shock me. I doubted the man could be any worse than Silas, but the day wasn't over yet.
I still had questions. I wanted to push his buttons. “Why me, Silas?” I crossed my arms. “Did you just throw a dart at a list of debtors and decide I was the lucky winner?”
Silas took a seat. “You were available. And you were a guaranteed yes the moment your father ran out of options.”
“Charming. You really know how to make a girl feel special.” I rolled my eyes. “But you’re wrong. My father had a very clear option. He could have gone to jail. He just chose me instead.”
“You're right.” He nodded. “But survival is a powerful motivator, Maya. You’ll learn that soon enough.”
Motivator, my ass.
“I would never have done that to him,” I snapped. “So tell me the truth. Why the fake girlfriend act for six months before the wedding?”
He set his drink on the desk. “The media calls my family a nest of vultures. You? You look like you rescue kittens and cry at sunsets. You’re a clean slate, Maya. A distraction.”
"Bullshit," I mumbled under my breath.
He didn't even have to look at me to know I wasn't buying it. Getting married for a headline? Please. A Blackwood wouldn't sign a multi-million dollar contract just to fix a reputation. There was more to this, and I was going to find out what.
"Bull-" He glared at me, his eyes narrowing.
"Is there a will?" I cut him off. "Do you need a wife to fully take the company from your father? Or are you afraid someone else is coming for your throne?”
“That's it, Maya. No more questions. Just try not to look like you're planning my murder while we're in public.”
Fine. I'll let it go for now.
“I’ll try, but I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you,” I replied. My thoughts were racing. “What happens after the wedding?”
“We live together. A penthouse, an estate, it’s all the same. It doesn't matter. You’ll be wherever I am.”
"No, I mean what really happens?” I clasped my hands together to stop them from shaking. “What is my actual role when the cameras are off? Do you expect me to sleep with you? To have your children?”
“Now you're asking the right questions.” Silas let his gaze linger on my lips. “The children don’t have to happen on day one, but I’m always down for the practice.” He swirled the drink in his glass, watching me. “And while we’re at it, you can practice calling me Daddy. You’ll find it suits me much better than Mr. Blackwood.”
He was absolutely unhinged. Was he expecting me to blush?
"Is there an expiration date on this?" I asked. I needed to change the subject before I lost my nerve. "Or is this forever?”
“We’ll discuss your next contract when the timing is right. Not before.” Silas didn't even look up. “Until then, the terms stay exactly as they are.”
“You’ll consider letting me go?” I scoffed, the anger bubbling up. “You’ll use me until there’s nothing left, and then you'll toss me aside.”
“You can file for divorce when your role is done,” he said, the glass clinking against the bottle as he poured himself another. “But let’s be clear. If there are children, they belong to this family. They are Blackwoods. They stay. You go.”
They stay. You go. The words echoed in my head, cruel and absolute.
A shiver raced down my spine, but I refused to let him see it. He said it so calmly, like he was discussing my future children as collateral in a business deal rather than human lives. He was no different than my father. They both used people to settle their debts.
He wasn’t just talking about a marriage; he was talking about a harvest. I looked at his handsome face and felt a wave of nausea. I would never let him touch me. I would never bring a child into this world just to have it ripped away from me.
In that moment, the reality of Silas Blackwood hit me. He didn't love. He possessed. He was telling me that if I ever became a mother, I’d be nothing more than an incubator. A temporary guest in my own children's lives. I’d die before I gave him an heir to lock in a cage next to mine.
Silas took the last sip of his drink. “But hold onto that hope. It’ll give you something to do while you’re settling in.”
I stood up and moved toward him, a retort on the tip of my tongue to tell him exactly where he could shove his hope, but the study door flew open without a knock.
A redhead stepped in like she owned the place. She was stunning. All legs, silk, and a perfume so sharp it made my eyes water. She didn't even look at me as she walked toward Silas. She brushed past, her shoulder slamming into mine with such force that I stumbled and lost my balance, my hands hitting the cold floor.
She didn't acknowledge the collision or apologize. She didn't even turn around. To her, I was just a piece of furniture in her way.
This bitch.
“Isabella,” Silas breathed, without sparing me a glance on the floor.
"Silas, darling," she cooed, her voice a seductive purr.
Isabella wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a deep, lingering kiss. It was possessive. A claim.
Silas didn't pull away, but he didn't move, either. He stayed perfectly still, not even looking over her shoulder to acknowledge I was still in the room. I stayed frozen on the floor, watching him accept her mouth like it was just another part of his evening routine, while the ink on my life’s contract was still wet.
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