Time with Mr. Silver

Time with Mr. Silver Elle Nicoll Rose Hope Publishing Ltd. Copyright Copyright © 2022 By Elle Nicoll All rights reserved. Visit my website at: http://www.ellenicollauthor.com Cover Design: Abi at Pink Elephant Designs Formatting: Atticus Editing: Heart Full of Reads No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Content Warnings—This book is intended for adult readers only and contains profanities, detailed sexual acts and reference to violence and organized crime. Contents Dedication 1. Dax 2. Rose 3. Rose 4. Dax 5. Rose 6. Dax 7. Rose 8. Dax 9. Rose 10. Dax 11. Rose 12. Dax 13. Rose 14. Rose 15. Dax 16. Rose 17. Dax 18. Rose 19. Dax 20. Dax 21. Rose 22. Rose 23. Dax 24. Rose 25. Dax 26. Rose 27. Dax 28. Rose 29. Dax 30. Rose 31. Dax 32. Rose 33. Dax 34. Rose 35. Rose 36. Rose 37. Dax 38. Rose 39. Rose 40. Dax 41. Rose 42. Dax 43. Rose 44. Dax Elle's Books About the Author Acknowledgments Dedication For everyone who likes their heroes pierced and possessive x (Please turn back to copyright page for Content Warnings) Chapter 1 DaxThree years earlier“Mr. Dax Anthony Silver, on the count of grievous bodily harm with intent, how do you plead?” “Not guilty, Your Honor,” I grind out. A stabbing pain shoots up my jaw as I clench my teeth.I drag in a deep breath as the victim scoffs from his position across the courtroom. I meet his eyes with a glare that could penetrate bulletproof glass.I should have killed him. Finished the job when I had my hands around his throat.The corners of my lips twitch as I recall the softness of his skin beneath my fists that night. The sound his ribs made when they cracked. Like snapping the wishbone after a roast chicken supper that Mom would cook.Shame, those wishes never came true.I fight the urge to adjust my collar in the stifling heat of the courtroom. Her Majesty’s finest building for justice and they couldn’t even fix the damn air conditioning. A bead of sweat rolls down the back of my neck, but I ignore it. Any movement, any show of weakness, and he will think it’s guilt over what happened between him and I. Guilt or fear.And I feel neither.I don’t feel guilt. The bastard deserved it, and a whole lot more.And fear? I tear my gaze away from the man in the suit staring at me like something he stepped in, then look over at my sister, Jasmin, and give her a small nod as she stares back at me with wide eyes.No, not fear... but regret maybe.Regret, in case this sadistic fucker gets his way and sends me down for something he had coming, she will be alone. Something I promised her she would never be.My friend, Logan, reaches for her and takes her hand, squeezing it, but her eyes never leave mine as she draws in a breath that makes her shoulders shake.Not guilty, Your Honor. Not fucking guilty.“Members of the jury, have you reached your verdict?” the female judge asks. And despite the courtroom being quiet before, a new level of silence descends as the entire room seems to hold its breath. Only the ticking of the clock on the wall can be heard. Each strike sounds like a missile counting down to my fate.“We have, Your Honor,” the appointed speaker of the jury answers—an oily-looking businessman with more money than style. Jury picking by the prosecution, is an obvious tactic. Choose people of the same age, sex, and race as the person I’m accused of harming. And similar social standing in the community, judging from the speaker’s smug self-important expression plastered over his face as he flashes me a look of disdain.Get more sympathy from jury members. Let them relate to the victim.I wonder if this jerk has a tidy little side business supplying coke to minors. Oh, and sending fucking dick pics to my sister.I turn my attention back to the reason we are all here today—Julian Young, owner of Mason’s, the UK’s biggest overseas spirits import company. Business rival, drug dealer, and all-round asshole.He purses his lips as he stares at me, his hair slicked back, graying at the sides and around his collar.I never liked him, even before he put his disgusting, filthy, leery eyes on my sister, and then violated her privacy by sending her those messages. He isn’t worthy of breathing the same air as her.I remember the way his hand landed too low on her back the night of that business dinner as he whispered something in her ear. It made contempt slither over my skin like a swarm of starved locusts. Maybe I should have ignored the comment he made about her, about how it was a shame she was my sister as he bet I would love to fuck an ass like that. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone postal on him. After all, it resulted in me being restrained by five security guards in front of half of Southeast England’s most influential businesspeople.Or maybe I should have broken the other two ribs that escaped my wrath. And smashed his nose to the backside of his head instead of fracturing it. Maybe I should have done that.The clock continues to tick. He leans in his chair and whispers something to his lawyer as he holds my eyes.Sly bastard. He’s wanted me out of the way since our company outperformed his at last year’s industry awards. Slippery fucker tried to get