All Chapters of Their Beautiful Madness: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The man on the speaker starts to stammer out something but Silas cuts him off. "I'll call you back later," he says cooly.I force a tight smile onto my face, acting like I didn't just overhear something that definitely wasn't meant for my ears. But the second his eyes meet mine, his whole expression shifts. The cold, ruthless look he was wearing softens. As if my presence melted the edge off his anger. His jaw loosens, the tension in his shoulders ease, and a flicker of warmth bleeds into the ice.I clear my throat and say, "Sorry to interrupt." I hold up the tray like a peace offering. "Just bringing you lunch."He doesn't say anything, just watches me with unreadable eyes. He's trying to see if I heard too much. I move quickly, setting the tray down on the corner of his desk. The moment my hands are free, I pivot and make a beeline for the door. I don't run, but I don't exactly stroll either. I wasn't born yesterday. I know damn well I wasn't supposed to hear

BeatriceI toss onto my other side, shoving the thick comforter away with a frustrated sigh. The mattress is absurdly soft, cradling every inch of me. But sleep won't come. My body is exhausted, my eyes heavy, but my mind just won't shut the fuck up.The bed is perfect. The room is perfect. So why do I feel so restless?My eyes flutter open, again. The ceiling stares back at me, cloaked in darkness. My hand blindly reaches for my phone on the nightstand, and I squint at the harsh glow as the screen lights up.2:03 AM.I groan and flop onto my back, bringing my phone to my chest. A low rumble echoes from my stomach. "Seriously?" I whisper into the dark.Why am I starving in the middle of the night? My body has decided that sleep can wait until I solve my sudden craving for food. It's always at the most inconvenient time that hunger shows up. It waits until I'm cocooned in comfort.In my oversized nightshirt, bare-legge

AtticusI catch Beatrice just as she collapses dead weight in my arms, soft and limp like a rag doll. Her head lolls against my chest, and for a second, the world just... stills.Her scent fills my nose. Vanilla. Warm and so fucking sweet. My arms tighten around her, feeling just how fragile she really is.Silas storms across the room, shoving me hard enough to make me stumble back a step. He snatches her away from me like I stole something that belongs to him. His jaw's clenched, eyes dark, barely holding it together.I don't fucking like that.I clench my fist, watching him cradle her like she's his whole world. I touched her, felt her nails digging into my shoulders, heard the way she whimpered and moaned; it didn't matter who she belonged to. She was mine in that moment.Kathy was right when she told me about her. She's stunning. I didn't want to believe it, but it was staring me in the face just now. Beatrice is everyth

BeatriceMy eyes flutter open, heavy and sluggish. My crisp white sheets are gone, replaced with a soft silky black that swallows the light. The air carries a fresh, clean scent. Cedarwood and mint.A warmth presses into my back, steady and comforting. I shift my gaze over my shoulder and find Silas lying there, his arm wrapped around my waist. His eyes are closed at first, but he stirs, brushing a gentle kiss against my temple. The simplest touch sends a pulse of calm through me.He shifts my body, turning me to face him. One hand lazily threads through my hair, while the other trails soft, feather-light strokes along my arm. I'm not sure how I ended up in his bed, or what time it is, but I know I'm glad to be here."How are you feeling, angel?" Silas's voice is low, filled with tenderness that makes me want to lean closer.I blink away the last threads of sleep and let out a quiet laugh. "I had the weirdest dream," I say, voice s

SilasI walk down the hallway, one arm locked around Beatrice's thighs, the other braced against her lower back. My angel is a hellstorm of rage; thrashing, kicking, swinging her tiny fists against me like she actually thinks she can win.It's fucking adorable and maddeningly hot.My room is just ahead, but each step feels heavy, like carrying temptation down a corridor that keeps daring me to misbehave. Watching her stand up to Atticus? Watching her walk straight into a lion's den with her head held high. Fuck. It lit something in me. In both of us. If I hadn't stepped in, Atticus would've taken her. Right there. He would've had her by the throat, forced her to her knees, or maybe had her face shoved down on his mattress. It's how he punishes. He doesn't use words when it comes to discipline. He fucks it into place.It shouldn't turn me on, but it does.I know exactly what punishment feels like to deliver. I've done it. More than