3

A tall, lean guy in a black butler uniform walked out from the hallway.

He looked barely older than Silas—maybe in his early twenties. His dark hair was slicked back, his lips pink, and his jawline way too sharp to be legal.

“Welcome, Mr. Reed,” the butler said with a polite smile. “I’m Aaron. Boss is expecting you—he’s in the study.”

Silas gave a small, awkward smile. “Thanks.”

Aaron nodded once and led him to a sleek elevator tucked behind a wall of mirrors.

The doors slid open without a sound. Silas stepped in, and before he could even catch a proper breath, the elevator glided up to the next floor.

Mateo Woods’ Study was engraved in black on a gold nameplate across the door.

He stared at it for a second, then knocked.

A voice answered from inside. Deep. Smooth.

“Come in.”

Silas pushed the door open—and froze.

Mateo was behind a glass desk, flipping through a file with one hand and sipping a cup of black coffee with the other. His dark hair was messily perfect. He wore nothing but a pair of loose grey shorts.

No shirt.

Just skin. Inked skin.

Tattoos covered his chest, crawling up his neck and down his arms. Lines and symbols Silas didn’t understand—bold and dangerous.

“Morning,” Mateo said without looking up. “You’re early.”

Silas blinked, trying not to stare too hard.

“Yeah,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “Figured I’d start now.”

Mateo finally glanced up, lips curving.

“Good,” he said. “Let’s see if you’re worth the trouble.”

Mateo stood slowly from behind the desk, stretching a little before strolling over.

Silas held his breath.

Mateo’s sharp eyes scanned him from head to toe, then wrinkled his nose.

“This suit...” he muttered. “You wore this to your first day?”

Silas opened his mouth to say something, but Mateo didn’t wait.

He reached out and unbuttoned the top of Silas’s shirt himself—fingers smooth, confident, like he did this sort of thing all the time.

Silas tensed.

Mateo leaned in, sniffed lightly near his neck.

“You smell like street and engine oil,” he said with a teasing smirk. “You need a proper wash, pretty boy.”

Silas blinked, heat rising to his cheeks.

Was this part of the job too?

He wasn’t sure.

And Mateo wasn’t exactly helping.

Mateo stepped back, still smirking as he grabbed a fresh white towel from the cabinet behind his desk.

He tossed it lightly at Silas.

“There’s a bathroom through that door,” he said, nodding toward the left. “Go use it. Wash up. Change.”

Silas caught the towel, a little stunned.

“I’ll tell you your job once you’re decent,” Mateo added, already turning back toward his desk like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Silas gave a small nod, clutching the towel in one hand.

“Right… sure.”

He walked toward the bathroom, heart pounding for reasons he didn’t fully understand.

After a few minutes, the bathroom door opened with a soft click.

Silas stepped out, towel still in hand, now wearing the clean black shirt and slacks he found neatly folded on the counter.

His hair was damp, falling into his eyes, and the steam still clung to his skin.

But his body—

Damn.

He didn’t even notice how hot he looked.

Defined chest under the fitted shirt, veins along his forearms, and that sharp jawline still glistening from the shower.

Mateo looked up from his seat, his gaze pausing—just for a second.

Then he smirked.

“Well, well,” he said slowly. “You clean up better than I thought.”

Silas ran a hand through his wet hair and gave a small nod.

“Thanks… for the clothes.”

Mateo leaned back in his chair, watching him like he was sizing him up all over again.

“You’ll earn better ones soon,” he said casually, then reached into a drawer and slid a black folder across the desk.

“Here’s your list,” he added. “Rules, daily schedule, emergency codes, my allergies, names of staff you can trust—and ones you can’t.”

Silas picked it up, flipping through the pages.

Damn. This wasn’t just bodyguard duty. This was a full-time, 24/7 lock-in.

“I’m guessing I don’t get to clock out?”

Mateo chuckled under his breath.

“You live here now. Your room’s the one next to mine.”

Silas blinked.

“Next to yours?”

Mateo shrugged. “I like to keep my security close.”

Silas stood there for a moment, the folder still in his hand.

He shifted his weight, then said quietly, “I got a sister… she’s disabled. There’s no one else to care for her. I just—at least let me check on her first—”

“Ssh.”

Mateo cut in gently, standing up again.

“I know about her,” he said, walking over. His voice was calm but firm. “Isabel, right?”

Silas froze.

Mateo gave a small nod. “She’s fine. And she’s not staying alone. I’ve already arranged for her to be moved to a special care school. Safe, private, well-staffed.”

Silas’s chest tightened.

“You… did that?”

Mateo looked him dead in the eye. “I don’t play around when it comes to the people I hire.”

Silas didn’t know what to say.

So he just breathed.

And nodded.

Silas left the study, head still spinning from everything Mateo had said.

The hallway was quiet, lined with dark glass and soft lights. He walked slowly toward the direction Aaron had pointed earlier—his new room, apparently right next to the boss’s.

But just as he turned the corner, a strong arm suddenly wrapped around him from behind, one hand clamping over his mouth.

His eyes widened—he tried to move, but the grip was firm.

“Don’t panic,” a low voice whispered in his ear. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Silas froze.

“I’m one of Alton Monaro’s men,” the voice continued. “The one who took your sister.”

Silas’s heart dropped, fury rising—but the man tightened his hold.

“Relax. She’s safe. We’re the ones who made sure you got this job.”

The man reached into his coat and slipped something into Silas’s pocket—small white pods in a clear case.

“Wear these at all times. They’re encrypted comms. He won’t detect them.”

Then a black band slid onto Silas’s wrist—sleek, simple.

“Scanner. Tracks movements, voice records.”

Finally, a watch—matte black, barely noticeable.

“Camera. It streams to us in real time.”

Silas finally turned his head slightly, breathing hard. “What do you want from me?”

The man’s voice dropped lower, serious.

“We’ve been trying to kill Mateo Woods for years. He’s not who you think. That handsome face? Just a cover. Underneath it—he’s dangerous. Cold. A monster in silk.”

Silas swallowed hard.

“You’re in his house now. Close to him. Watch everything. Report. When the time is right—we finish this.”

The man pulled away slowly.

“One more thing,” he added. “Even if it means landing in his bed… do it.”

Silas stiffened.

“But never fall for him,” the man warned, voice almost sharp now. “Not even for

a second.”

And just like that, he slipped into the shadows.

Gone.