"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it." - Rumi

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Silas's POV

My heart is beating erratically in my chest and I am clutching the steering wheel so hard, my knuckles have turned white.

I still want to beat that motherfucker until his face is unrecognizable. Each punch I threw didn't satisfy me, making me want to punch him even harder.

Until I felt her touch my arm.

Until I turned to see her eyes filled with an unfathomable amount of fear as she glances toward my bloodied, bruised knuckles.

While my body pulsed with restless energy, all I wanted to do was get her in my car where I know she would be safe.

So that's what I did.

I gripped her wrist and pulled her to my car.

I didn't even let her put on her own seatbelt for fuck's sake.

I wanted to feel that click telling me she's strapped in. That if we were ever in a car crash, I know she wouldn't be flying through the fucking windshield.

I can feel her presence beside me, smell her natural sent wafting toward me and all I want to do is fucking wrap her in a big-ass blanket where she can't fucking escape.

I decide to take her to my penthouse where I can assess if she's injured or not.

I swear to god, if I see one fucking scratch on her, there will be hell to pay where Philip's concerned.

Just thinking about that dickhead makes my blood boil.

I had just gotten out of my car, looking for some paperwork I had left behind when I saw him eyeing her like a piece of candy.

I couldn't make out what she was saying but by the look on her face and the fact that she was taking short steps backward told me everything I needed to know.

I sprinted from the parking lot to the front of HQ, my body suddenly filled with adrenaline from the anger coursing through my veins, and when I finally came close enough to reach his face, I gave him hell.

I didn't think of anything other than beating the douchebag to a pulp.

I wanted to continue punching him.

I still want to.

But then I notice her sitting beside my through the corner of my eye.

She's looking out the window, her face expressionless as we pass through building after building.

Her mind looks like it's a universe away from her body, however her hands are trembling, her fingers toying with the edge of her skirt.

Absentmindedly, my hand reached for hers, encasing my fingers over her shaking ones. She doesn't make a sound, just continues to stare out the window. Her palms are so petite under mine and her skin is so soft.

Her fingers are cold.

I wonder if I could offer my jacket.

No, no that's stupid.

I wish I could know what's going on in her head. What she's feeling.

I can only imagine it.

Two assholes in less than a week.

I grip the steering wheel tighter with my left hand.

I finally pull up to the hotel, and by now, I've removed my hand from hers, although it doesn't seem like she's noticed as she's still lost in her thoughts.

Shit.

What do I do?

Nudge her?

Speak up?

I go for the ladder, trying to summon a calm, expressionless voice when-

"I'm sorry."

I'm completely taken aback.

What the fuck is she apologizing for?

Before I can think up a response, she says, "I know Nguyen Enterprises was a really big partner of yours."

What? What the fuck is this girl talking about?

Then it clicks.

She's afraid we're going to lose the partnership with Mr. Nguyen.

Jesus fucking Christ.

She just almost got sexually assaulted and the first thing that comes into her mind is about the company.

"Please don't fire me," I hear her say, her voice just barely above a whisper.

My shocked eyes fall.

She thinks I'm going to fire her.

A pang of guilt rips its way through my chest, and I look away from her, shame now settling into my heart.

Of course she would think that.

I just almost fired her today.

God, I am an asshole.

Before I think of anything else, my hand reaches out, releasing her seatbelt as she continues to stare out the window.

What the fuck am I doing?

I then cautiously exit the car, as if she's a ticking time bomb that will explode in a few seconds.

Making my way to the other side of the car, I open her door, still slowly, not wanting to startle her.

God, what the fuck am I doing?

When my eyes meet her face, my heart falls slightly at the streaks of tears painted across her cheeks.

She notices my staring and quickly wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Thank you," she mumbles quickly before exiting the car.

She begins to walk toward the hotel, leaving me stranded in the parking lot.

When I finally enter the lobby, I notice her talking with one of the new clerks we just hired, Charlie.

He's not unfortunate-looking.

Hair, eyes, nose.

Nothing fucking special.

But apparently he is to her because she is laughing up a storm.

I mean seriously, what could that guy possibly have said to make her laugh this much? I've never made her so much as smile.

By now, my mood has dropped completely, replaced with the same urge to beat the fuck out of something.

I stalk toward the front desk, immediately locking eyes with Charlie, my glower making his eyes fill with fear. Good.

"What's wrong?" I hear her say.

She turns around to see who he's staring at, and when her gaze lands on me, her face falls.

What the actual fuck?

Now my mood has churned from sour milk to fucking rotten, curdled, dirty-ass milk and all I want to do is drag her to the top floor where no one else will be staring at her or talking to her, or fucking making her laugh like she'd just seen Kevin Hart's height.

And, because I usually get what I want, I do just that.

Latching my hand onto her wrist, I pull her towards the elevator.

This takes her by surprise, and she trips over her feet.

Damn, this girl can never be graceful.

I quickly turn around, stepping forward so that my arms wrap encircle her waist. She lets out a small gasp before finding her footing and planting her feet back on the ground.

I release her when she does, then again, grab her wrist and pull her to the direction of the elevator, less aggressively this time.

Her feet follow behind me until we are both alone in the elevator.

Apart from the elevator music, a deafening silence rolls over between us.

Yeah, this is fucking awkward.

What were they talking about?

Why I feel the need to know is beyond me but I just-

"What were you and Charlie talking about?"

Shit.

"Nothing interesting."

Nothing interesting my ass.

"Okay." God, she's such a horrible fucking liar that it drives me insane.

But if I continue to question her about it, she's going to think I actually care about her, which is something I definitely do not want to do.

The elevator takes us to the top floor and I stride inside, opening the door for her.

Her eyes widen in surprise before muttering a quick thank you.

"Sit," I say behind her.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

I hear her let out a small huff which, internally, makes me laugh.

It was the cutest fucking thing I've heard and I feel my lips quirk up in a smirk.

She seats herself on the edge of my couch.

What is with this girl and my couch. It's as if she's afraid the cushions will eat her whole.

Walking to where she is, I sit on the coffee table, right in front of her.

I see her scoot to the side a little in response to my intense gaze which again, makes me want to chuckle.

She makes it too easy.

"Did he hurt you?" I ask, immediately feeling the anger build up in my chest.

"No," she responds simply.

I can't tell whether she believes me or not as her gaze keeps jumping on anything other than me.

"Are you lying to me?" I growl out, feeling my pulse accelerate as I quickly become more irritated at her refusal to make eye contact with me.

"No." My gaze goes to her fingers where she begins to fiddle with the edge of her dress. Again.

Why does she always does that?

Studying her dress a little longer, I spot inconsistent threads along the edge of her skirt, telling me that her dress was handmade. This means that she either buys homemade dresses or she makes them herself.

I swear to god, if she fucking makes them herself, I am going to explode.

"Who made your dress?" I blurt out, surprising myself.

"My mom," she sighs, and I see her eyes drift off to the coffee table. I can tell this is a rough subject based on the droop of her shoulders and the fall of her orbs so I quickly avert it to, "Did he hurt you?"

"No, he didn't."

If she's going to keep lying to me...

"Why are you lying?!"

"I'm not!" she chides back.

However, she still refuses to look at me, and now I am at my boiling point.

Without thinking, I reach out and place my fingers below her chin, I forcing her gaze upon me. "You look at me when I speak to you!"

As soon as I make eye contact with her, I can see fear encircled in her amber eyes but then it disappears, replaced by... anger?

"You know what, you don't get to speak to me that way!" Her eyes are ablaze with fire I've never seen in her before and it is- it's fucking attractive as hell.

Hitting my hand away from her face, she continues. "How about treating me with respect for a change, something you've probably never done since you're such a - such a-"

"Such a what?" I urge, liking the fire behind her eyes and the way her nose scrunches when she's angry.

She ruffles her eyebrows in concentration, as if thinking of the right words to say before settling on something. "Such a jerky, horrible, rude man!" she finishes, her cheeks painted a soft pink as she breathes heavily.

My lips pull up in a smirk at her insults. Yeah "insults."

"Ouch. You wound me." I place my hand on my chest in mock hurt as she glares down at me with that same adorable nose scrunch accompanied by an eyebrow furrow.

She lets out another grumbled breath before turning her gaze away from me, lines of irritation etched on her face.

Deepening my smirk as I continue to gaze at her, I ask again. "Did he hurt you?"

She rolls her eyes.

Damn, this girl is getting more confident now is she? "No, he didn't. Why won't you believe me?"

She crosses her arms, annoyed.

I finally conclude that she is in fact uninjured, but that still doesn't take the fury away as I recall her frightened eyes as Philip stared her down.

Looking at her again, I see that her is gaze set intently on my piano.

My mood darkness, replaced by with memory of her playing. Her ass seated wrongly on the bench, playing that goddamn song.

I want to scream. Scream at her for fucking getting me so fucking- AHhh.

"The first aid kit is in my medicine cabinet in my kitchen if you ever need it, since it seems like you are constantly getting hurt," I state curtly, now annoyed.

"Last I checked, you were the last person to hurt me," she bites back, which fills me with shock.

My eyes narrow as my jaw ticks by her words. She's right.

I was the last person to have hurt her. Physically and emotionally.

By now, my jaw is throbbing by the amount of times I've fucking clenched it between my teeth and all I wanted to do now is take my anger out on something.

God, what is with this girl?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her stand up. "I need to go, sir." She says softly. Wow, back to the whole nice and innocent act now.

Oh hell fucking no.

"Why?" I say, harsher than intended, my annoyance creeping in at the thought of seeing her go. "Are you afraid I'm going to become a jerky, horrible, rude man again," I tease, a smirk settling onto my lips.

"No," she replies stubbornly.

"Well, that's too bad because we actually have quite a few things on the itinerary today." I see her roll her eyes again, sending a sweep of satisfaction through me.

"Oh yeah. Like what? Running to the supermarket to get you mochi ice cream?" My smirk deepens, knowing full well how annoyed she gets by it.

"Now that you mention it, I am feeling quite a need for mochi ice cream."

"Mr. Sanders, I really need to go." She begins to head for the door.

With long steps, I plant myself in front of her, preventing her escape. With my arms crossed, I repeat, "Why?"

Her irritation grows as she glowers at me but I don't relent. "It's none of your concern."

Oh yeah? It is now.

"Why?" I repeat.

She lets out an exasperated sigh, before finally relenting. "I need to pack." I don't miss the hint of shame in her tone as she speaks.

But my chest rises at that. "That is taken care of."

"What?"

"I said that's taken care of."

She still looks confused as she studies me for a second before asking, "But I didn't get my check."

"It doesn't matter."

"Wait, how?" she asks. Moving away from her, I walk to my kitchen, pouring myself a cup of water.

"It's none of your concern," I say, repeating her words back to her.

I hear that same huff that makes me want to do unimaginable things before clearing my thoughts.

Before even more awkward tension fills the already stuffy room, I begin to head to my office.

She follows behind me, without my having to say a single word.

Going into my office, I grab a sticky note, write a few random ingredients on it, including mochi ice cream, and hand it to her. "Buy these from the grocery store."

She looks down at the sticky note before letting out an agitated sigh. I smirk at that.

Before she prepares for her sprint, she stops herself. "Wait, I need money."

Handing her my credit card, I say," You have thirty minutes, starting..." She's out the door before I could say "now". Cheater.

But this is gonna be fun.

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