CHAPTER 515: MICAH’S TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO-GOOD, VERY BAD MEETING

Micah swallowed hard; his throat felt suddenly too dry. He never thought things would reach this point, that Silas would corner him with these kinds of questions. He lowered his head, staring at the floor. His palms pressed against his knees, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of his skirt.

Minutes passed, but Micah couldn’t open his damn mouth. This was not a situation he could get away with bullshit this time. Silas was sharp. Every word could come back and bite him right in the ass if he wasn’t careful.

So he stayed quiet.

The silence stretched. Not peaceful. But oppressive. He could hear his own heartbeat thudding in his ears as if it was trying to punch its way out of his chest.

Silas didn’t move. Not even a shift of his shoe or a twitch of his brow. He sat there across from Micah, hands clasped neatly in front of him, waiting for his response.

Micah didn’t dare to look up. He replayed questions in his head: why was Silas still here? why would he consider a dom-sub contract with someone who had presented as a girl? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Micah had imagined he would have to force Silas into a contract, using the reason that Alpha Dominus administrators had granted him a special privilege.

Of course, Micah knew it wouldn’t be easy to make Silas agree. But now, Silas’s asking for his red flags had thrown him off his feet. He had no idea how to proceed anymore.

While Micah was panicking, not knowing what to say, Silas spoke again. "It seems I wasted my time." His voice was curt; the words hit Micah like ice water.

Silas rose to his feet, hands stayed glued to his body, careful not touching anything.

"I’ll take my leave, then," he said, and started walking toward the door without looking back.

Micah’s head snapped up, seeing that Silas was really ready to leave. "Wait!" he blurted, the word slipping out before his brain could catch it.

Silas stopped. Slowly, he turned his head. His gaze swept back over his shoulder, detached and with a hint of condescension.

Micah shuddered. That look alone could freeze blood. He forced himself to speak. "I’m new. I don’t know what is expected and what’s not... because of my personality... I just follow what others tell me. I can’t... I don’t even know how to list my red flags..."

Yes. That would do. Micah thought to himself. Someone shy and awkward would never utter their demands. They would shrink back and fumble, looking helpless.

"I don’t want a doll," Silas replied flatly.

"No, I want to change! That’s why I joined the app. If I feel safe, maybe I could... voice my desires too..." Micah stammered. Inside, he was gagging. Ah... pathetic. Gross. Why should he be begging and uttering these shameful words?

But he had no other talent or skill. No way to fight someone like Silas. So he was grasping at the last straw, the only weakness of this man, his need for control, to shape everything however he desired.

Micah clenched his fists tightly behind his back, where Silas couldn’t see.

Silas gave him a once-over look, without pity or curiosity. "What’s in it for me?"

"Huh?" Micah asked, stupefied.

"You don’t expect me to agree to anything just because you ask, do you?" Silas’s expression was flat, eyes cold. "You are far younger than I imagined. Dealing with someone of low intelligence is insulting."

Micah’s temper flared. "Then why did you even show up?" he uttered despite himself.

Silas didn’t flinch. He adjusted the cuff of his sleeves with two fingers, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. His gloved hand brushed over his overcoat.

"The least I could do," he said, voice steady, "was show courtesy to those requesting my assistance. Unfortunately, we live in a society that thrives on favours and empty pleasantries." he paused, glancing at him with eyes devoid of emotions. "Well. This evening has been such a disappointment."

Micah felt his insides burning. This freak! What was with this sudden talkativeness! He was like a block of stone a few minutes ago... now, uttering rude words, insulting him left and right?!

The novel had said he was manipulative, sure, but this much?

First, he gave Micah the cold treatment, now shattering his confidence and self-worth. What was next?! Making him feel elated because he threw a look at him?

He hated this. He hated this narcissistic psychopath!

Micah’s fists itched to punch the man right in the face. No, it was better to hurl a chair at his perfect expressionless face!

This freak had used the same method with Darcy, breaking him into a meek dolce boy.

Micah’s body trembled with sheer anger.

But from outside, it seemed he was shaking from fear and humiliation.

His expression was hidden under a mask and a cap, thankfully. Otherwise, the blaze in his eyes and twist in his face would have given him away long ago.

"Fine," he muttered, voice trembling just enough to sound wounded. "Go ahead. I thought you were different. That you’re more attentive than the others. I thought you wanted to help me... you said you didn’t mind that I was a girl. But I guess it was all a lie."

Silas turned fully to face Micah. He took a step closer, towering over him.

Micah instinctively backed away until his spine hit the back of the couch.

Silas didn’t stop. He followed him, his shoes gliding over the carpet. He halted a breath away, close enough that Micah could smell faint antiseptic. His cold eyes locked on Micah. "I won’t pair with you. But I can bring out this side of you." His voice lowered, not in warmth, but in something quieter. "The choice is yours."

Micah’s heart slammed against his ribs, mouth dry.

Silas reached forward and, in a sharp, controlled motion, he grasped the edge of Micah’s mask and cap and pulled.

Micah flinched, startled, yet was unable to react to the sudden invasion.

The mask slipped off; the cap followed, strands of his wig falling into his face. Micah’s breath hitched.

"Too pretty," Silas muttered. His gaze flickered over Micah’s face, not with appreciation, but evaluation. "Well. Passable."

Then he turned away without hesitation. He simply walked to the door, unhurried, composed. The door clicked open. He stepped out. The quiet thud of it closing behind him was the only sound left in the room.

Micah stood like a frozen sculpture, staring blankly ahead. What the hell just happened?

He lifted a shaky hand, touching his bare face. Why did Silas act this way all of a sudden? Why did he take off his hat and mask? Shit, did he see his glare?

If Silas had noticed the anger in his eyes, that was bad. Very bad. He had been trying hard to act harmless. Innocent. Timid.

Wasn’t this meeting supposed to be his bargaining chips? Why the hell did Silas behave like he was the one making him a favour?

Huh? Seriously?

Did he just diss him and leave? Thinking he would say yes?

Ahhhhh...

Micah screamed inwardly in frustration.

He wanted to hit that freak! What the fuck happened?