The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 387

Silas slowly opened his eyes, the deep darkness within them as heavy and unfathomable as midnight ink.

Vivian stared down at his face. The sudden thought of whatever Grace might have tried to do a few moments ago infuriated her, and she pinched his cheek hard. "Can't you just behave yourself? The second she walked in, you should have called me! Didn't you know she's been stalking you like prey?"

Silas stared back at the stunningly expressive face hovering just inches from his own.

Scarlett Sinclair's words briefly echoed in his mind.

"What... what kind of look is that?"

Vivian had one knee planted on the sofa, essentially straddling him as they faced each other.

When he didn't answer, she grabbed the lapels of his bathrobe. She leaned in, aggressively sniffing his face, his neck, and finally his chest. Aside from his usual body wash, she didn't detect any foreign perfumes.

"..."

"Are you a bloodhound?"

"I'm a detective."

Vivian pulled back, feeling like the man's gaze was entirely too unreadable today. She locked eyes with him. "Why are you staring at me like that? Is it a crime to be jealous?"

"What exactly is there to be jealous of?"

"You were alone together in a room, and nothing happened? Wearing an outfit like that?"

"What did you think was going to happen?"

"It still doesn't matter! Being alone together in a room is unacceptable! Stay away from Grace Gifford from now on!"

Silas pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing.

"Hey, you really are acting weird today."

Vivian scrutinized his face suspiciously. "You ignored my calls this afternoon, went to a cocktail party behind my back, and now you're acting all cryptic. Have you actually rekindled your old flame with Grace?"

"Does that matter to you?"

"Of course it matters!" She shot him a look that practically screamed, 'Are you joking?'

Silas glanced at her lazily, then closed his eyes again, refusing to elaborate.

In truth, Vivian hadn't misunderstood anything. Based on the timeline alone, there was no way he and Grace could have done anything. At most, the woman had barged in the second he finished his shower.

She was still hovering over him, maintaining her straddling posture. With just a slight shift forward, her lips could touch his.

She lightly smacked his chest.

Crossing her arms, she puffed out her cheeks and refused to say another word.

For a long while, the room was enveloped in silence, save for the quiet rush of air flowing between them. Vivian's weight pressed awkwardly against his strained muscles, causing Silas to exhale a heavy, ragged sigh. He wrapped a single arm firmly around her waist and hoisted her slightly to the side.

"What are you doing?" Why was he moving her!

"Little vixen, you're pressing right on my wound."

"..."

Honestly, Vivian did feel a pang of guilt. After all, he had risked his life twice to save her. She pouted and glared at him, but her tone instantly softened. "Does it hurt badly? Let me see..."

She propped herself up, reaching for the belt of his bathrobe, only to be yanked right back down against his chest.

The man's low, commanding voice rumbled against her ear. "If you stop moving, it won't hurt."

"Why does everything sound so suggestive when you say it..."

Vivian settled comfortably onto his uninjured shoulder, suddenly recalling the nickname he had just used. "Why did you call me a vixen? That doesn't exactly sound like a compliment."