Chapter 23

Silver’s POV

I stared at my best friend in disbelief. I couldn’t have heard her correctly. She wanted to get revenge on my husband?

“Revenge?” I asked her, my voice sounding distant and unfamiliar. “What do you mean by that?”

She rolled her eyes and leaned closer to me from the other side of the table.

“Yes,” she said, that look of mischief never leaving her eyes. “We should do something that’ll hurt him like he hurt you.”

“I don’t want to stoop to his level,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “It doesn’t feel right.”

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair as she thought about what we should do. Then I saw the light bulb flashing above her head and her eyes grew large.

“I know exactly what we should do,” she said, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “His ego is huge; everybody knows that. So, why don’t we knock him off his pedestal?”

I raised my brows.

“What do you mean?” I asked him, suddenly intrigued.

“You told me that you painted another portrait of him, right? A nude one?”

I blushed at her boldness, but I nodded.

Her smile grew wide like the Cheshire cat.

“Is it possible to alter the painting?”

I thought about it for a moment before I gave her a hesitant nod. I could do pretty much anything to a painting; I was that good at what I did.

“Perfect,” she said, rubbing her hands together like some kind of supervillain.

“What’s perfect?” I asked, my brows knitting together. “What do you propose I do?”

Dropping her voice to a whisper she said, “Alter his man bits so it’s smaller than normal. It’ll drive him insane.”

I stared at her very serious face for a moment, disbelieving what I just heard her say. My face was on fire, and I knew it was as red as a cherry. My mouth hung open as she leaned back in her seat and grinned like she just had the best idea in the world.

I was too stunned to say anything. Then, the imagery of Elliot with a small manhood in the portrait hanging in our bedroom came into my mind and I snorted.

I wasn’t expecting the laughter to bubble out of me, but once it did, I couldn’t seem to stop it. I was getting strange looks from those around us. I covered my mouth to stifle the laughter, but it was no use. Tears poured from my eyes and my stomach began to ache.

“I take it you like that idea?” She said, smiling at my laughing form.

I wiped the tears from my eyes; it felt good to let loose and laugh like that.

“How did you come up with something like that? That’s hilarious,” I chuckled.

She beamed at the compliment.

“I just know men and that’ll destroy his ego,” she said, clearly proud of herself. “When does he get home?”

“Probably not until this evening,” I told her. “I can have it done before he gets back.”

“You have to let me know how he responds,” she said, laughing. “I bet he’ll be pissed.”

I shuddered at the thought. I didn’t want to upset him and something inside of me scolded me for even the thought. I shook the thought away and smiled at her.

“I’m sure he will be,” I told her. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Later, I went home and grabbed the portrait from my bedroom, taking it into my studio. I stared at the portrait for a long while, my belly twisting from the image. He was so handsome that it hurt. I ran my fingers down the torso of his painting and my heart thudded violently against my chest.

I wondered how he would react if I altered it; a part of me didn’t want to alter it. The image was quite accurate, and I honestly really liked it. But then the memory of what he was saying to Shirley replayed in my head and I was brought back to that spot outside of his office door.

He had called me a couple of times since then, but I didn’t bother answering him. I just sent him a quick text telling him I was out with Rebecca and couldn’t answer my phone.

I felt bad for avoiding him, but he should be feeling bad too. After what he said, I wasn’t sure I could easily forgive and forget. Then again, I really didn’t have a right to be upset with him. I was the one who agreed and signed the contract; I knew what this marriage was since the beginning.

He helped me not marry Gavin and I helped him with his insomnia. I still wasn’t sure why I was the only one who could help him sleep at night. Whenever I ask him, he’s either short with me or changes the subject, successfully avoiding the topic. It makes me wonder what he’s hiding.

I sighed and grabbed my watercolors. As always, I got lost in the painting, even though I was kind of ruining it. Painting always gave me a sense of belonging. I could push all thoughts out of my mind and just focus on my work.

It took a little over an hour to alter the painting and when I finished, I couldn’t help but chuckle. He was going to be so angry.

While I let it dry, I went into the kitchen to see if dinner was ready yet. There were a couple of workers in the kitchen, but there was no sign of Mariah.

“Where’s Mariah?” I asked one of the chefs.

“She went to help out at the packhouse,” she explained. “Are you hungry? I just finished with the roast beef.”

My mouth watered as she took the roast beef out of the oven. It smelled incredible; with it was potatoes and roasted carrots.

“Starving,” I admitted.

She piled good onto a plate and slid it across the counter for me. As I ate, I couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. Elliot isn’t here to eat with me and usually, he’s home around now.

“Have you heard from the Alpha?” I asked the worker.

She shook her head.

“I have not. He’s probably still working at the packhouse. I’ve heard there have been some rogue attacks that he’s investigating.”

I nodded, understanding.

The flavors of the food hit my tongue fiercely and I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my mouth. The look on the worker’s face told me that she heard me loud and clear.

“I’m glad you like it,” she chuckled.

I wiped my mouth with the napkin before responding.

“It’s incredible,” I told her.

I continued to eat; the kitchen fell silent, and I was once thrust into my own thoughts. I had a longing for Elliot like no other and I couldn’t explain these feelings I was having.

Shaking my head, I ate the last of the food before handing my empty plate to one of the workers. After thanking them, I returned to the studio to check on my painting. It was almost completely dry.

Pleased with myself, I took the portrait back upstairs and hung it on the wall. I was so lost in thought, that I didn’t even hear the bedroom door opening. I froze when Elliot’s presence invaded the room. A warmth spread throughout my body and my heart started to beat even faster.

My breath hitched when he stepped up behind me. I couldn’t even look at him.

“What are you do—”

His voice trailed off when he caught sight of the portrait I was standing in front of. Immediately, the energy in the room shifted I heard a growl emerging deep in his throat.

“What is this?” He asked, his voice low and threatening.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and kept my eyes averted from his. I was too nervous to look at him. I wasn’t sure what to expect so I kept my head downward and my back to him.

“I asked you a question. What is this?” He asked again, anger pouring off him in waves.

I lifted my head and looked at the picture, folding my arms across my chest I said, “I thought I would adjust it so it was more accurate.”

Anger from him burst forth and he growled loudly, making the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand tall.

“You think that’s accurate?!” He growled.

When I didn’t respond, he grabbed my arm and whipped me around to face him. His eyes were blazing, and I could see the yellow tint of his wolf’s eyes peering through. His wolf was in control, and he wasn’t happy with my little stunt.

Before I could react or say anything in response, Elliot pushed me against the wall, his body pressing into mine. I could feel every curve of his body as he pinned me between him and the wall.

My body shook as I peeked up at him through my lashes; I knew I was blushing from the heat that rose in my cheeks and my breathing was now heavy and I fought to catch my breath. I hated the effect he had on me and my body.

Then his deep and growly words made my knees weak.

“Maybe I should remind you how inaccurate you were.”