The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 115

< 115 Fire Beneath the Silk 3

115 Fire Beneath the Silk 3

+25 Points

Several women exhaled audibly. Midnight Blue let out a soft, disbelieving laugh and pressed a hand to her

chest. “That was… something,” she said.

“I’m so sorry,” Rose Gold murmured to Eve. “We didn’t mean to pull you into drama.”

“You didn’t,” Eve replied. Her hands were still steady. “She brought it herself.”

“You handled that beautifully,” Black Dress said. “Truly.”

Eve smiled, but the adrenaline was still rushing through her veins. “Thank you.”

They spoke for a few minutes more, lighter now, the tension slowly replaced by relief. Then the group

began to dissolve back into the crowd, conversations shifting to neutral topics again.

Only when Eve was briefly, completely alone did she realise her hands were trembling.

She set her glass down on the nearest table, exhaled slowly, and pressed her palms briefly against her

stomach.

The baby moved.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “We’re all right.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement, a few men drifting closer. Polished suits. Elegant watches. Confident smiles. Their expressions were friendly, curious. Their attention lingered on her a

fraction longer than was strictly polite.

“Mrs Ashbrook,” one of them said pleasantly. “I just wanted to say your speech by presence tonight was impressive. Standing up to that woman like that…”

Eve forced herself to relax her shoulders. “Thank you,” she replied. “It wasn’t a speech. Just… truth.”

They laughed, charmed.

The conversation that followed was harmless enough on the surface, comments about the event, the

charity, the food, the band. They asked about her perspective on culinary projects, about the cooking competition she was joining, about whether she’d ever considered opening her own restaurant.

At another time in her life, she might have been flattered.

Tonight, she felt the subtle edge beneath the politeness. The sidelong glances. The way one of them stepped a little too close when he spoke. None of them touched her, but she could feel the potential in the

air, the casual entitlement some men carried around beautiful women at public events.

She answered politely, keeping her tone cool, her posture restrained. Her mind, however, was elsewhere.

On Ryan.

On the way his jaw clenched when other men let their eyes linger too long on her legs. On the way his

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115 Fire Beneath the Silk 3

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hand would tighten on her waist, not to hurt, but to claim. On the way he had once dragged her out of a hall when jealousy boiled over and taken her in the car with such desperate hunger she still felt it when she closed her eyes.

Her pulse quickened quietly.

She wondered what he would do if he turned and saw her now, standing in the middle of three well-dressed men, one of them leaning a fraction too close, another letting his gaze dip to where the emerald silk parted over her thigh.

Would he bristle again?

Would his calm snap?

Would that fire she knew so well burst to the surface?

The thought shouldn’t have thrilled her.

But beneath the silk of her gown and the polite veneer of the evening, there was something else alive now,

a slow burn that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the way Ryan had

looked at her in that mirror before they left the house.

As though she was his religion.

As though touching her was the only prayer he had ever meant.

Her heart was racing when, as if summoned by instinct, he appeared.

“Excuse us,” Ryan said smoothly, his voice cutting cleanly through the cluster of male laughter.

He stepped in close beside her, one hand sliding around her waist, fingers splaying possessively over the emerald silk, just above the curve of her bump. The warmth of his palm seeped through the fabric and into

her skin, grounding her.

“It’s time to go home,” he said without looking at the men. His gaze was fixed wholly on her. “My wife is

tired.”

The men stepped back almost immediately.

“Of course, of course,” one of them said quickly. “Thank you for the conversation, Mrs Ashbrook.”

“Goodnight,” another added, this time directing a respectful nod at Ryan as well.

Eve looked up at him, her eyes bright, her breath just a little uneven. “Already?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” he murmured, his thumb brushing a small, possessive stroke along her side. His voice lowered, intimate despite the room full of people. “Now.”

There was something in his gaze that made everything inside her tighten.

They left the hall together beneath a halo of curious stares.

Some people envied her.

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