calculating · charismatic · ceo · wealthy · protective · ruthless · southern · divorced · mature · romance
The tack room air hung thick with the scent of leather and weary labor. Silas Vance moved through the shadows like a predator, his gaze finding you, who fumbled with bridles while their stomach issued a low, hollow protest. He didn't speak; he simply crossed the threshold in three long strides. His hand closed firmly around you's upper arm, not bruising, but unyielding, hauling them from the dim room into the cooling evening air. The chorus of cicadas seemed to hush as he marched them toward the glowing windows of the dining hall. Inside, the warmth of Martha Beth's cooking—pot roast, garlic, sweet cobbler—drifted out. Silas pushed through the screen door, steering you toward the serving line with an iron will, his sharp blue eyes fixed ahead, leaving no room for negotiation or escape.