Chapter 9

Bethany had arrived in Holly's car. So, she stood outside the entrance, pulled up a ride-hailing app, and tried to call a taxi. However, the clubhouse was tucked away in a remote area, and no drivers accepted her request. All of a sudden, a hand landed on her shoulder from behind. Bethany was wearing a black spaghetti-strap dress that night. The moment she felt someone touch her bare shoulder, she immediately stepped aside. Then, she raised her bag defensively in front of her chest and demanded, "What do you think you're doing?" Bethany didn't recognize Cyrus. Yet, the man's rumpled shirt and the hickeys on his neck made it clear that he was bad news. The blood drained from her porcelain face as she glanced toward the security guards by the entrance. They, however, turned away and stepped back, clearly unwilling to get involved. Cyrus smirked sleazily. "Don't get the wrong idea, miss. I just want to be friends." He inched closer toward her, his desire plain in his eyes. "Noah's one true love is back now. Why don't you find yourself a new sugar daddy? A canary is still a canary, no matter whose cage she's in. Why don't you consider me instead?" Bethany's amber eyes shook as his shadow approached. "Who are you?" she asked coldly. "I have no idea what you're talking about!" Cyrus was quite pleased to see fear flicker across the woman's face after hearing what he had said. He was even more pleased with her looks. It was no wonder Noah had hidden her so well. If Cyrus had found her earlier, he would have taken her ages ago. Noticing his silence, Bethany lowered her head and tried to call the cops. Cyrus, however, was a grown man. The difference in strength between them was immediately apparent as he snatched her phone away with one hand and grasped her arm with the other. "You'll ruin the fun if you call the cops." Loose strands of hair clung to her cheeks as Bethany cried out, "Help—" She tried to appeal to the guards' conscience. Yet this was a private club. How could they not recognize Cyrus? He was the heir of the Brannon family. His affairs were not something they dared to interfere with, nor could they afford to. Bethany thought she was done for when an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her into a warm embrace. There was a cold glint in Silas' eyes as he drove a heavy kick into Cyrus, sending him flying. He looked straight into her frightened, doe-like eyes and gently comforted her. "It's okay. I'm here. Stand back, turn around, and don't look!" Before she could respond, Silas strode toward the man writhing on the ground. His fists landed on where it hurt most. Cyrus broke out in a cold sweat from the pain, baring his teeth as he cursed out, "Who the hell are you? Do you have any idea who I am? Believe it or not, you'll be dead once my men get here!" Silas' expression remained stoic as he punched the daylights out of him. Just then, a few security guards tried to approach him. Yet, the moment they met his icy gaze, they stopped dead in their tracks. Of course they recognized him. This man was none other than their boss. Silas only stopped when the man on the ground went silent. He lifted his chin and nodded at the two guards. "Come over and call an ambulance." "U-Understood!" Silas spun on his heel and wrapped his arms around the trembling Bethany again. "Let's go. It's over now." Bethany looked at him nervously. "He's still alive… right?" He smirked. "Of course. Do I look like someone who would go that far?" She took a deep breath. She had been too scared to breathe earlier. "Thank you." "That's all I get? A verbal thank-you?" Silas teased. … Silas took her back to his place, and Bethany didn't refuse. She was still shaken, and her hands were ice-cold. Silas snuck a look at her while keeping his hands on the steering wheel. Her face was pale, like a crumpled sheet of paper. His heart sank, and he regretted holding back. If Cyrus weren't a Brannon, Silas would have crushed him without a second thought. Bethany returned to her senses and realized that she had followed him into his apartment. Gray marble floors gleamed coldly beneath her feet. Aside from a black leather couch and a metal-framed floor lamp, the space was almost bare. The massive floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the glowing city. They were the only splash of color in the room. Bethany hadn't expected a womanizer's home to be so minimalist. Standing in a stranger's apartment—even if he was technically her husband on paper—she felt awkward. After all, they weren't close enough to share a bed. "Perhaps I should go home," she murmured. Silas yanked off his tie and tossed it onto the black leather couch. "Give me a break. I'm wiped out after that fight. I don't have the energy to drive you home." He glanced at her, half amused. "You don't think I'm planning to do something to you, do you?" Her cheeks flushed in an instant, and she lowered her head, staring at the marble floor that reflected her embarrassment. She pursed her lips and forced out, "I didn't think anything of the sort." Silas chuckled and guided her into the guest room. "You'll be staying here." Then, he raised his hand and switched on the light in the master bedroom. "This one's mine. You want to sleep in the master bedroom? Dream on!" … Bethany closed the door and quietly locked it. The bedding on the bed looked brand new, almost as if it had never been used. She relaxed a little. At that moment, she realized that she did not dislike Silas, though he was not quite what she had imagined. He was a womanizer, yet he was oddly gentlemanly. Bethany let out a small chuckle, thinking that the description was contradictory. Just then, she received a message. Diana: "7:00 pm tomorrow. Don't be late." Bethany's gaze darkened. After the two families met tomorrow, it would be time for her to collect what her dear mother owed her. … Bethany slept poorly that night. The unfamiliar surroundings and the incident outside the club made her restless. She woke up several times through the night. Bethany slipped out of Silas' apartment at first light. Silas woke at 7:00 am. Looking at the empty guest room, he froze for a moment when he realized that Bethany had already left. He called his assistant, Ralph Windrow. "Have someone renovate my villa at Elmstead. I want warmer colors. Yes, as soon as possible." … Bethany met Diana at the club's reception area at 7:00 pm. Diana arrived arm in arm with Gary. Her brows drew together as she took in Bethany's white dress. "Aren't you dressed a little too plainly?" Gary, on the other hand, smiled. "I think she looks fine. It makes her look more dignified." "Fine. Let's head inside." Diana reminded, "Behave yourself later, Beth. Be more agreeable and less withdrawn. Once you marry into their family, you'll be representing more than just yourself; you'll be representing our family." "But I'm a Porter, not a Reid," Bethany retorted apathetically. Diana shot her an irritated look. "Do you think you'd be able to marry into wealth if not for Gary?" Just then, a waiter rushed past with a service cart and bumped into Bethany. Caught off guard, she stumbled backward. In a heartbeat, a pair of hands caught her at the waist. The familiar scent of cedar filled her nostrils. Bethany looked up, surprised to see Silas. He hastily withdrew his hand. Gary appeared even more surprised than Bethany. "You're here as well, Mr. Brennan!" He shot Bethany a look and said, "Hurry up and thank Mr. Brennan, Beth." Bethany froze for a moment before asking, "Mr. Brennan?" Diana took in Bethany's dazed state and pinched her. "This is Silas Brennan, the heir of the Brennan family in Claridge. What are you waiting for? Thank him!" Bethany's mind went blank. It turned out that Silas' last name was Brennan, not Brannon.