Chapter 2: The Devil's Waltz

Mr. Sterling turned red. "You are in the mood to buy? What is that supposed to mean?"

Silas ignored him. He didn't even blink. He kept his ice-blue eyes fixed on me.

"They are playing a waltz," Silas said. "My favorite."

He extended his hand toward me. His palm was open. His long fingers looked strong enough to crush a stone.

"Dance with me, Clara."

It wasn't a question. It was a command wrapped in polite words.

"I... I can't," I stammered. I looked at my father for help.

My father looked pale. He looked like he was about to faint. He knew something I didn't. He didn't stop Silas. He didn't say a word.

"She is with me!" Mr. Sterling sputtered, grabbing my arm.

Silas shifted his gaze to Sterling’s hand on my arm. His eyes narrowed. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Let go of her," Silas said quietly.

"Or what?" Sterling challenged.

"Or I will buy your bank tomorrow and fire you by noon," Silas replied. He sounded bored. As if ruining a man’s life was as easy as ordering coffee.

Sterling froze. His hand dropped from my arm instantly.

Silas smiled. A shark’s smile.

"Smart choice."

He looked back at me and wiggled his fingers, waiting.

I had no choice. If I refused, he would cause a scene. My father was terrified of him.

I slowly lifted my hand. It was trembling.

I placed my hand in his.

His skin was warm. Shockingly warm. And rough. His hand swallowed mine completely.

He pulled me toward the dance floor. He didn't drag me, but his grip was firm. I couldn't pull away if I wanted to.

He placed one hand on my waist. His fingers dug into the silk of my dress, pressing against my lower back. He pulled me flush against his hard body.

I gasped. "Too close."

"Not close enough," he murmured.

The music swelled. Silas began to move.

He was a good dancer. He led me effortlessly, spinning me through the crowd. But it didn't feel romantic. It felt like I was being herded.

"You are shaking," Silas whispered in my ear. His lips brushed the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Are you scared of me, Clara?"

I looked up at him. I tried to find the boy I used to know. But he was gone.

"I don't know you," I whispered.

"Liar," he said softly. "You remember. You remember the day your father threw me out. You stood at the window and watched."

"I was twelve!" I protested. "I couldn't do anything!"

"You watched," he repeated. His hand tightened on my waist. "And now, I am watching you."

He spun me around. The world blurred—the lights, the faces, the colors. The only thing in focus was his blue eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "Why humiliate Sterling?"

"Sterling?" Silas scoffed. "He is a pig. He wants to marry you for your name. He wants a pretty doll on his shelf."

"He is saving my family!" I hissed. "He is paying off the debt!"

Silas stopped moving.

We were in the dead center of the ballroom. The music was still playing, people were still dancing around us, but Silas stood perfectly still.

He leaned down. His face was inches from mine. I could smell expensive scotch and danger.

"Sterling isn't paying anything," Silas whispered.

"What?"

"I bought the debt this morning, Clara," he revealed. The cruelty in his voice was sharp. "Every cent your father owes. Every loan. Every mortgage."

My legs felt weak. I clung to his shoulders to stay standing.

"You... you own the debt?"

"I own the company," Silas corrected. "I own the house. I own the car you came in."

His eyes dropped to my lips, then back up to my eyes.

"And now... I own you."

The music ended. The final note hung in the air.

Silas let go of my waist. He stepped back, buttoning his suit jacket. He looked cool, calm, and collected.

"Come to my office tomorrow at 9:00 AM," he ordered loudly enough for my father to hear. "Don't be late. Or I foreclose on everything."

He turned and walked away. He didn't look back.

I stood alone in the middle of the ballroom, shivering in my silver dress. The gilded cage had just slammed shut.

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