Three Years Forgotten, Why Go Crazy When I Say Goodbye? novel Chapter 174

Silas let the quiet stretch between them, simply watching her with a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips.

The main courses arrived shortly after—rosemary-infused filet mignon. Their steaks were cooked to different temperatures, with Silas preferring his much rarer. Willow had just picked up her silverware when Silas's deep voice stopped her. "Hold on a moment."

"Is something wrong?" Willow asked, looking up with her knife and fork paused in mid-air.

Instead of answering, Silas simply reached across the table and pulled her plate toward him. With effortless precision, he began slicing her steak.

His movements were fluid and impeccably elegant. Every stroke of the blade was deliberate, creating perfectly even, bite-sized pieces while keeping the integrity of the meat flawlessly intact. He didn't look like a man cutting a steak; he looked like an artisan refining a masterpiece. Willow found herself utterly mesmerized.

But it wasn't just the sheer grace of his actions that had her captivated. It was the realization that no one had ever done this for her before—least of all a titan of industry like Silas Thorne.

She struggled to figure him out. To the rest of the world, he projected an aura of absolute frost and ruthless indifference. Yet, in these quiet moments, his actions were strikingly tender and attentive, standing in stark contrast to his fearsome reputation.

Furthermore, she couldn't help but note that for a man rumored to keep all women at a glacial distance, his smooth, polished chivalry suggested he was far from inexperienced.

Finishing the task in seconds, Silas slid the plate back in front of her. "There you go."

Caught staring, Willow met his gaze and felt that familiar nervous flutter return. "Thank you."

"Try it."

Following his instruction, she took a bite. The perfectly seared crust locked in the savory juices, the meat practically melting in her mouth with a complex, lingering finish. "It's amazing."

"Good." Silas finally withdrew his intense gaze and began cutting his own meal. However, his method for his own plate was entirely devoid of the meticulous care he had shown hers—a detail Willow, still reeling from the gesture, entirely failed to notice.

She desperately wanted to ask if a long string of past girlfriends was the reason behind his seamless attentiveness. Deciding that was far too intrusive, she opted for a safer question. "Mr. Thorne, are you always this much of a gentleman?"

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