CHAPTER 514: WAITING ROOM OF DOOM (PART TWO)

Micah stopped staring at Silas like an idiot. Focus! He scolded himself inwardly. It wasn’t the time for that. Who cared why Silas agreed to come? The important thing was to use this opportunity to his advantage.

He tilted his head slightly to the side as he took in the sight before him.

The man who had just stepped through the door was silent and composed as ever.

Silas stood at the entrance, his presence commanding and cold even without a word. He wasn’t wearing a mask or a cap. His black hair was neatly trimmed, short, and smooth. The light above caught the faint sheen of his black overcoat, perfectly pressed and hanging just right on his shoulders. Beneath it, a crisp white shirt without a single wrinkle, paired with black pants and matching black gloves. He screamed: clean and controlled.

Silas stepped inside the room and stopped at a distance from him. His intense gaze locked on him.

Micah didn’t move. His back stiffened against the sofa, hands frozen on his lap. He even held his breath for a second.

That gaze... it wasn’t simply looking at him. It was dissecting him. Stripping away layers, measuring every twitch.

The disguise should hold. It had to. Micah assured himself. From where Silas stood, all he could see was the lower half of Micah’s face, where the mask and cap meet each other. Pale skin, a dainty nose, and a white wig that brushed against his cheek. The brim of his cap shadowed his eyes, and the blue contact lenses masked his natural hazel colour.

Micah berated the man inwardly. Stop staring, you freak! What the hell are you looking at anyway?

Seconds stretched to minutes. None of them spoke. None of them moved. It was nerve-wracking.

Micah’s palm began sweating. Hot and sticky under the bandages that wrapped around his right palm, the itch and pain on the wound worsened with each passing second.

Micah rubbed it slightly on his skirt, trying to relieve the sting.

"Let me take a look," Silas said, breaking the silence.

Micah flinched. "Huh?" His voice came out hoarse.

Silas’s eyes flicked down. He raised a gloved hand, pointing toward Micah’s right hand. "Your palm," he said curtly.

Micah froze, his thoughts stuttering. "Oh," he murmured dumbly. Almost automatically, like he was under a spell, he lifted his injured hand in a daze and extended it. The white bandage looked clean from afar, but the ache beneath it pulsed like a heartbeat.

Silas stepped closer, silent, unhurried. His shadows fell over Micah as he leaned down.

But the moment the cold leather of his glove brushed against Micah’s skin, a jolt ran through. He, stupidly and belatedly, realised what he was doing.

He pulled back his hand so fast the motion nearly made his body hit the back of the sofa. "No, that’s okay," he blurted, voice higher than usual.

Silas paused, gloved fingers hanging in the air before he quietly lowered them. He didn’t insist on looking. He simply turned and took a seat across from Micah, lowering himself into the sofa without touching anything.

Micah had no idea that just by sitting down, Silas had approved of him.

He was scolding himself silently. Great job, genius. So when someone says, "Give me your hand," you just obey? Why are you a robot? He is a doctor, for God’s sake! If he touched your hand properly, he could know instantly that you are not a girl!

He sat rigidly, clutching his bandaged palm in his lap.

Silas said nothing. Just watched.

Micah felt Silas’s stare would bore a hole into him. What the hell? His hand itched to toss the cushion right onto that emotionless face. Every hair on his body stood up, every nerve prickled under that cold stare. Snake! Definitely a snake eyeing its prey!

Micah hated anything related to reptiles. The cold sensation, the prickly tongue, the slimy slippery touch... ugh!

And Silas was giving off that experience to him! Please, blink at least!

Micah forced himself to stay still. He couldn’t be the one who broke the ice. No. That was not in his character description. He should hold on to his persona he had established for BashfulWallFlower. He was supposed to be shy, cautious, and awkward. He couldn’t just open his damn mouth and list his demands.

He tugged lightly at his sleeves, pretending to adjust them while trying to steady his breathing.

The clock ticked loudly in the silent room.

Micah’s patience wore thin. That was it. The hell with this. He would use something else! He couldn’t stand this man anymore. If Leo was stupidly emotional, Archie a gorilla-cunning jerk, and Aidan a narcissistic lunatic, then Silas was a cold, manipulative psychopath.

Dealing with Silas was like standing on thin ice over deep water. It took nerves of steel!

Shit! Wasn’t Aidan supposed to be the final boss? Why the hell was Silas a tougher opponent than that lunatic Aidan?

"Miss, may I ask why you picked me?" Silas asked finally.

Micah’s mind lagged for a second from the sudden question. He dropped his gaze, fingers twisting together on his lap. "You seemed... like the only one interested in me," he whispered. "No one else DM’d me..." His tone came out shy and small, perfect for the persona.

Micah had even prepared his cheat sheet beforehand. He had lines for every possible question Silas might ask.

"Tell me your red flags," Silas said, tone flat but firm. "I’ll see if I can comply."

Micah’s lips twitched. Silas was really a freak. He didn’t care what he looked like, did he? He probably just wanted to do his business and feel satisfied. Probably covering his face with some rag or pillow... Micah shuddered, imagining that.

No wait! That wasn’t even the point! How the hell was Silas okay being with a girl? Why ask about red flags? Did he really want to go ahead with this dom-sub shit? Micah wanted to facepalm. He was so nervous that he forgot he was dressed like a girl. Dude! Aren’t you allergic to the opposite gender? What the hell are you still doing here?

Silas could have easily declined him. No one would force him to come meeting with him even if he had asked for it. So what was with him? What the fuck was he cooking up in that cold, frozen mind?

Micah screamed inwardly.