19. Amara
AMARA
THE LIE BETWEEN US
I can’t believe he ordered dinner. Knowing I’d be hungry, he thought to feed me, and that makes my heart swell with gratitude.
Sure, it’s more than that. Every time I pull away, he pulls me back. It’s like doing yoga with a partner—your partner gently pulls you into a deeper stretch, and you do the same for them.
It’s comforting being with Pietro. We’ve built a routine, and it’s nice. Incredible, actually. It’s more than just hooking up. And as much as it scares me, we’re in an unspoken relationship— it pleases me and terrifies me all at once.
Home.
The way he said it last night, he implied that we’re a couple, and this penthouse is ours . But nothing could be further from the truth.
I’m his current obsession, and my father’s words— he’ll toss you aside —can’t be forgotten.
Yes, the penthouse feels like home. A home I would love to have. But it’s not mine, and it never will be. My time here is running out.
It’s the quiet before the storm. Even I know sleeping giants eventually wake up—and when they do, it’s a nightmare. I’ve had my share of those.
And I know another one is coming .
I pretend to be normal, but let’s face it—I’m anything but normal.
Sure, I have Luca, the guard assigned to guard me. He’s in his late twenties, with an affinity for cigarettes. And even though he’s muscular, he’s just one man. My father and Milo?? They have an army.
Milo?.
I’d never seen him before he showed up at the club, but I won’t forget him anytime soon. That’s why I asked Pietro who he was—I didn’t know. I’ve never met him. But that scar on the side of his face? It’s unforgettable.
And he’s the last person I ever want to see again.
Last night was full of truths.
One: Pietro knows who I am. I don’t know how long he’s known, and I’m not sure he wanted to tip his hand.
Two: He knows more than I ever planned to share about my home life.
Three: He knows where I live—and that’s embarrassing enough, but I’ll get over it.
Four: Even if Pietro doesn’t marry me, I’m still his. He’ll protect me. He makes me say it before he lets me come.
If that’s not dedication, I don’t know what is.
By aligning myself with Pietro, I gain protection. It’s not foolproof. But it’s better than facing this world alone.
Besides, the way he makes love to me—it's sublime . I crave him. That cocky smirk. That massive cock.
He’s dangerous in all the right ways… and I want every inch of him.
I slip out of bed slowly, assuming he’s already left. But when I walk into the kitchen, I stop short.
He’s ordered breakfast.
Not just for himself— for me.
Not only did he order waffles and candied bacon, but he also added scrambled eggs, biscuits, and gravy. He must have looked to see what I order daily because it’s all here and then some.
“There’s enough food here for a dozen ‘me’s,’” I protest before adding impishly, “Thank you so much.” I flash him a smile as I reach for a piece of crisp bacon. “But what are you eating?”
His eyes widen, and when I laugh, his smile spreads until it reaches his beautiful blue eyes.
“You’re kidding, right?” he counters.
“Partly,” I tease, settling into the chair across from him, wearing only his shirt.
“You know, we should get some of your stuff from your apartment.”
“Sure.”
“No argument?” He lifts a brow in my direction.
“Nope,” I say, popping the “p” dramatically.
He chuckles, and the sound of it makes me feel like I’ve been hugged.
I’m diving into breakfast when my phone rings. It’s Sarah.
Or at least—it’s her number.
I answer, only to hear a voice I’d hoped never to hear again.
“You need to come in on your own. Make an excuse to your boyfriend, and no one gets hurt.”
As if thinking of my father this morning somehow conjured him, I’m now in the eye of the storm—again.
Fuck.
I glance at Pietro, who’s texting on his phone, and then I slip into the bedroom for privacy.
“Don’t hurt her.”
“We only stole her phone this time,” he replies coldly. “But fuck with me, and she’ll be in a dumpster.”
“I need a few days.”
“My patience is wearing thin.” I can hear the fury bleeding through his voice.
“I know. But I have to make it believable. Otherwise, Pietro will come for me.”
“I doubt that,” he scoffs.
He’s wrong. If Pietro had even a hint of what was going on, there’d be bodies in the street .
I checked online last week. My father’s been home for weeks, and now I know he’s fully returned to work—fully returned to me .
“It’s true. Believe what you want.”
“You have five days. Don’t try anything stupid. And if Pietro comes for you, I’ll kill him.”
Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I can’t guarantee that,” I deadpan. No pun intended.
His silence boils into a rage.
“Then you’re responsible for his death.”
“I have men on me. I have to figure out how to duck them—it’s not easy.”
“Well, well,” he mutters. “Looks like Pietro knows something.”
“I didn’t say a word. If he had known, I’m sure he never would’ve been with me in the first place. I’m using my new name—how would he know who I am?” I lie and hope it lands.
“You didn’t hide well enough. We found you in a matter of weeks.”
“True, but you knew what you were looking for,” I snap. And still… I thought I did a decent job of disappearing.
“Still arguing with me, I see.”
“And you’re still an asshole,” I say and hang up.
It’s probably not the most brilliant move. But it felt damn good.
I return to breakfast, but my appetite is gone. I glance around the penthouse and decide it’s everything I shouldn’t want.
It’s comfort wrapped in steel and glass, a world away from the life I’ve been running from. The sheets are too soft, the water pressure is perfect, and the city stretches beneath me like I own it.
But it’s not mine. And it never will be.
Pietro’s world is dangerous; no matter how much I pretend otherwise, I’m running out of time.
Milo? is still out there. My father’s reach is longer than I’d like to admit. And as much as I love this place—the way I feel here—I know it can all disappear instantly.
The penthouse. The security.
And Pietro.
When he finds out the truth, when the weight of my past finally crashes into his world, will he still look at me the same way? Or will he do what every other man before him has done and walk away, leaving me defenseless?
I exhale, shaking off the thought as I grab my phone and scroll to Sarah’s name before hitting call. She picks up on the second ring. I duck into the bathroom to make sure Pietro won’t follow me.
“Tell me you’re not dead,” she says in greeting.
I huff out a laugh. “Not dead.”
“Then what’s up? And why do you sound like you’re in a five-star hotel?”
I glance around the huge bathroom. “Because I kind of am.”
Sarah makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a squeal. “Shut the hell up. Are you serious?”
I rub my forehead. “It’s not like that. It’s complicated.”
“Oh my god. You’re with him, aren’t you?”
I hesitate, then sigh. “Yeah. I’m at Pietro’s penthouse.”
She’s silent for a second before her voice drops into something more serious. “Amara… are you safe?”
I close my eyes, leaning back against the wall. “Safer than anywhere else right now.”
“From who?”
I don’t answer because I can’t. Instead, I force a small smile into my voice. “Don’t worry about me. I just wanted to check in.”
She exhales heavily. “You always do this. You push people away when you’re about to do something stupid.”
“I’m not doing anything stupid.”
“Yet,” she mutters. “Just… be careful, okay? I don’t like this. And you want to know something strange? I lost my phone yesterday. It sucks—I had to get a new one.”
“I’m sorry about that.” And I am. She’s not safe with me around her.
“I’ll be fine,” she says. Another silence stretches between us before she finally speaks. “You’re protecting me, aren’t you? I swear someone was in our apartment yesterday. ”
I swallow hard. “I’m trying to keep you safe, but you might want to stay at your mom’s or a friend’s this week.”
“I’ll handle it,” she says. Another silence stretches between us before she finally speaks. “I have no clue what you’re involved in, but it sounds serious.”
“It is. I’m sorry. My father is on to me.”
“You need to get out of town.”
“It wouldn’t solve anything,” I murmur.
“Even if I did, I’ll never be safe.”
“This isn’t fair. You deserve better.”
Maybe. But better has never been an option.
There’s a pregnant pause, and then she asks, “Will you be okay?”
I don’t answer because I can’t. Instead, I force a small smile into my voice. “Don’t worry about me. I just wanted to check in.”
“I have to go,” I murmur.
“Just promise me one thing?”
“What?”
“Don’t fall for him.”
I let out a quiet laugh, but it was humorless. “Too late.”
The call ends, leaving me staring at my reflection in the mirror. The only sound is Pietro’s voice from the other room, talking on the phone.
The city stretches out behind me. I don’t know how this ends.
But I do know one thing.
If I stay here too long, I won’t ever want to leave.
I return to breakfast and sit across from Pietro with a heavy heart.
“Ciao,” he says, hanging up on his call before turning to me. “You were on the phone?”
“Yeah, my roommate, Sarah, is just checking in, seeing as I never show up there. I miss her.”
“When things settle down, you can have her over.”
“Great,” I try to think positively, as if I’ll ever get out of my nightmare.
“Who were you talking to?” I ask, point blank.
“My brother, Matteo, you remember him.”
“Yeah, from the club. ”
“We’re having a family day tomorrow. We’ll drive out to the Island. It will be fun. You’ll meet my family.” Pietro was walking through the penthouse, but now he stands near the kitchen.
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound happy,” he says, his eyes sliding over me, taking stock, like he’s expecting to find something broken beneath the surface.
“I’m just distracted, that’s all.”
But the truth gnaws at me—I have a date with the devil, and if I don’t show, Pietro dies.
How am I supposed to hide that from him?
I don’t want to leave him. He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. But I have to figure out how to make him mad at me so he’ll let me go, because if he follows me, he’ll be killed. I have no doubt my father or Milo? will resort to violence.
I pick up my coffee and take a slow sip, meeting his gaze over the cup’s rim. But my eyes can’t help looking at his, and I allow them to wander over his body.
He’s dressed in jeans and a pullover, which only makes him hotter. His arms bulge in all the right places, and the ink peeking out from his collar is sinfully sexy.
“What about your family?” he inquires.
“Not the type to have a family day,” I mutter, dropping my eyes and sipping more coffee.
“You must have someone you love in your family.” He leans against the kitchen counter behind him, and I feel his eyes on me.
“My grandmother. My mother’s mother is a real sweetheart. She lives in an old condo. She has a potluck dinner every Sunday night for her friends in the building.”
“We’ll need to visit her,” he says.
“I’d love to,” I say, smiling before I realize I might not be here.
I stare into my coffee cup. The muddy color mocks me as it reflects the shitshow of my life.
There are no lines drawn in the sand that prohibit my father from doing anything he wants.
My world is dark. Between all the lies, deceit, and violence, I don’t know how I didn’t turn out to be just like my family.
My life is doomed, and I’m circling the drain.
I’m running out of time. My father’s sins brought the devil to our doorstep, but I’m the only one who’s paying the price.
I absentmindedly slide my tongue over my lips.
“I think you can put that tongue to better use,” Pietro murmurs as he walks toward me, setting his phone on the table without taking his eyes off mine. I’m relieved for the distraction.
I can’t deny how I feel because making love to him is my favorite pastime.
By afternoon, we leave our cocoon and head to my apartment to pick up my belongings.
“Where’s Sarah?” Pietro asks, and my heart stops.
Damn, he remembers everything.
“She’s out,” I reply quickly. Perhaps I replied too fast. I haven’t thought this out. I’m relieved that her roller luggage and laptop are gone, so she must have taken my advice, and for that, I’m grateful. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if someone died because of me.
“Oh, I thought she’d be here so you could see each other.” Pietro’s perplexed face is concerning.
My heart skips a beat. Why is he worrying about Sarah? Does he know more than he’s letting on?
I shrug. “We’ll meet up soon, right?”
“Sure. Oh, I want to take you shopping to get some clothes, on me. Bring only necessities.”
“I don’t need stuff.”
He leans against the window I use to access the fire escape, one brow arched, giving me a look that clearly says, Who the hell am I kidding?
“Fine.” I agree because I can’t argue. I buy my clothes at second-hand stores, and I have to wash them daily so that I have enough for work. And secretly, I’d love to own something new and fitted.