Time with Mr. Silver: A Forced Proximity Steamy Romance (The Men Series #7)
Time with Mr. Silver: Chapter 4

I END THE CALL and toss the phone on my desk.

Fucking Marcus. He has one simple job. Make sure the crates get picked up. It’s all been arranged. All he has to do is help load them onto the truck and then fuck off home. He reckons he saw a cop car near his house earlier and now he’s pissing himself. Stupid fucker. He needs to grow balls. Happy enough to spend his cut, flashing it around like a complete dickhead. But one little squad car passing and he’s ready to run home for Mommy. And he wonders why he’s given all the shit jobs. Something I’ve learned about this world over the past few years—you’ve got to earn respect. And with that comes trust. Fortunately for me, I’ve got both.

I flick through some papers on my desk without taking a seat. My spine straightens as a scent catches my attention. Sweet and feminine. It’s suspended in the air like an image on a Polaroid before it has time to develop.

Whoever she is, she was here recently.

“There you are.” Jasmin waltzes in and stalls, flicking her eyes around as if she’s looking for something before she walks over to me. I wrap an arm around her and kiss her on the cheek; the phone call and Marcus’s incompetence forgotten.

I inhale before she pulls away. Jasmin’s wearing her usual scent today—Tom Ford. It’s not the one I smelled a moment ago. That alluring scent has drifted away with the displacement of the air. Shame.

Two and a half years in a men’s only jail and you get good at recognizing when something smells like a vanilla fucking cookie wrapped in petals is nearby.

“She was here. I left her here.” She looks around again. “Rose?”

I lean back against my desk, wrapping my palms around the wooden edge.

Rose Jacobs. Logan said he had dropped her off last night. The latest addition to the Silver Estate’s staff. A more unusual hiring, but I was asked to repay a favor I owed, and I’m a man of my word.

I look around my office, my eyes landing on the chair by the window.

“New girl!” I snap, my sudden outburst echoing off the walls and making Jasmin jump. She turns to scowl at me, and I curl my lips into a smile. She may be twenty-five now, but I still love to mess with her sometimes.

Be nice, she mouths, as movement in my peripheral draws my attention back to the chair and the tall blonde emerging from behind it.

“Dax. This is Rose.”

I stare at the woman in front of me. Her long hair falls in waves over her shoulders, framing a face that has an elegant beauty to it, a slightly upturned nose, soft-looking lips, and large blue eyes.

“Nice to meet you,” she says as she reaches me. I inhale sharply, my grip on the desk tightening. Vanilla and petals…

Frowning, I take in her outfit. A dress that probably should be longer, but due to her height, falls mid-thigh, showing a hint of smooth, tanned skin, before meeting a pair of black over-the-knee boots.

Jasmin coughs and I snap my eyes back up, reaching my hand out.

“Dax Silver.”

As our skin connects, a spark of static electricity jolts us.

“Rose Jacobs,” she replies with a furrowed brow.

“You know how to balance books?” I ask, gripping her hand in mine. Jasmin sighs. She hates me cutting to the chase with business. She’s much more of a relationship builder with our staff. She wants to make them feel at home, ensure they’re happy here. I think it stems from her being left so many times over her life. She hates it when people leave. This is her way of trying to make sure they never want to.

But this is business. Most people only want you to believe they’re your friend. They only care about themselves and their own agenda.

“Yes.” She holds my gaze, tightening her grip on my hand. “You have no worries there.”

“I just need to worry about you hiding and listening into private phone calls, then?”

Her lips flatten into a line, and she pulls her hand away. “I wasn’t hiding.”

“But you were listening?” I narrow my eyes as her lips part, and she stares at me.

“Right, that’s introductions done.” Jasmin breaks the growing tension in the air, and I turn my back on Rose, picking up the folder on my desk.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Jacobs. I’m sure Jasmin can help you settle in,” I say, effectively dismissing her.

The two leave as Jasmin whispers something about me not being that bad once you get to know me.

But she’s forgetting this is a favor.

I have no intention of getting to know Rose Jacobs.

None at all.

Over the following days, I only catch glimpses of Rose a few times. Meetings take me away from the estate, and it’s approaching her finishing time as I walk into the office on Friday afternoon. Jasmin has insisted on giving me regular updates though, saying Rose is settling in fine and getting on well with the rest of the staff.

I’ve already discarded my jacket and tie and rolled the sleeves of my black shirt up as I stride down to Rose’s office. Her computer is still powered up, but she’s not at her desk. I walk into my office. I always leave it open. Jasmin and Logan come in and out and sometimes work in here, despite having their own adequate offices. They say mine has the best view.

“No hiding in the chair this time, then?” I say as my gaze lands on Rose, bent at the waist, admiring the fish in the tank.

She straightens, her eyes dropping to my forearms and the full inked sleeves that cover the skin there.

“I wasn’t hiding.”

“So you said.” I drop the folder I’m carrying onto my desk next to some accounting reports.

“It’s not a full analysis, by any means. But I thought you might appreciate an update on what I have done my first week.”

“Okay.”

“So, what was it?” She juts her chin and folds her arms across her chest.

“What was what?”

“The reason you agreed to take me on. You must have one. I know my sister’s friend pulled a favor.”

Her blonde hair’s swept forward over one shoulder. Defiance lights up her blue eyes. But for all the forced strength she’s exhibiting, there is an undercurrent of pain screaming out underneath. She might be able to fool other people. But I’ve always been good at reading others. And I recognize a person who has something weighing heavily on their soul when I see one… A kindred spirit, I suppose.

I lean against the desk, crossing my legs at the ankle as I hold her gaze.

“It was Daisy Anderson. She’s the owner of Aunt Iris’s recipe.”

“Your bestseller?”

“A global bestseller,” I correct her. “It’s served in the best hotels and bars around the world.”

“I’ve had it before. It’s nice.”

“Just nice? It’s triple distilled.” I snort, earning a glare from her.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why did I get this job?”

I rub my hand around my jaw. She’s persistent. She will keep at me until I give her something.

“After I was sentenced, our contacts cut ties with us. The business would have gone under and left us with nothing. Aunt Iris’s Blend is the reason we survived.”

She doesn’t react. Someone must have told her. It’s hardly a closely guarded secret. The trial headlined the local papers for weeks.

I don’t tell her that Daisy, the owner of the original recipe, had her own reasons for believing I should never have gone to jail. She told me she knows what evil looks like, and it isn’t me. Her story is a wild one. But it isn’t mine to tell.

“I will always be indebted to the Anderson family for choosing to place their faith and trust in me. So when Daisy said Maria reached out to her because she knew someone who needed some fresh scenery and had an eye for figures, I agreed to take you on.”

Her shoulders soften, and her arms drop. “Maria is my sister’s best friend. She used to work with someone called Daisy in California. That makes sense now. I guess I should be thanking you for taking me on as your charity case.”

I cross the distance to her, and slam to a halt before inhaling.

Vanilla and petals.

“Listen. You aren’t a fucking charity case. I’m not here to save you. Only you can do that,” I hiss, failing to disguise the anger in my voice.

She stiffens again, lifting her eyes to mine, ever so defiant. She pulls her shoulders back and takes a deep breath.

“Good. Because I don’t need saving. And certainly not by you,” she declares.

The overwhelming urge to kiss her smart mouth strikes me like a hot poker to the heart, and I retreat quickly, dropping my hands to my hips.

“The workday ended ten minutes ago.”

“So it did.”

The light in my office dims as gloominess takes over the sky, and rain pours down. Rose glances at the window, then leaves.

She walks from the cottage every day. The thin blouse and short swishy skirt she’s wearing won’t last two seconds in the rain before she’s soaked through and freezing.

I curse myself as I walk to the closet in my office. She’s someone’s sister, and the idea of Jasmin getting a chill or…

I grab the umbrella and march to Rose’s office where she’s turning off her computer.

“Here.” I drop it on the desk. My lips twist at her soft expression.

Don’t look at me like that, baby. I’m no fucking white knight.

“The idea of you getting wet is…” My eyes have a mind of their own and wander to her sheer blouse and the outline of lace beneath.

Fuck. Her wet… her long legs—Shut the fuck up, Dax.

“Thank you. I’ll bring it back to you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“Monday, then.”

I clear my throat and glance at her once more before I leave. “Have a nice weekend.”

“You too, Dax,” she calls behind me.

Her saying my name invokes a million images in my head that have no place there. Not now. Not ever.

Fuck doing favors for other people.