Chapter 30 Amara
AMARA
It occurs to me why there is a deep purple dress with a bunched ass and padded halter top that will no doubt make my tits look phenomenal on the rack.
Ransome had this dinner date planned before he sent the clothes to the penthouse.
On one hand, I don’t hate it. But on the other hand, I am still very much confused.
I am also excited, after being trapped in his apartment for days and days, to be able to get dressed up and go out. And to a posh seafood place nonetheless. If this is Ransome’s idea of a last meal, I don’t even mind dying after. There are worse ways to go than with a belly full of caviar.
While I’m getting ready, my mind wanders to where it might be. And when my phone rings, I realize I almost forgot he even gave it back.
“Hey!” I answer on the third ring, excited to finally talk to Electra again.
“Oh my God, you actually answered!” She shrieks loudly enough that I yank the phone away from my ear.
Between the volume that is most likely only going to crescendo and the fact that I am still in the middle of flat-ironing my hair, I decide to switch to speaker phone.
“I know, I’m sorry,” I say.
“For real, girl, where have you been?”
“Working. A lot,” I tell her. Technically, it’s not untrue.
“You ghosted. Not just me, but the date. I had to cancel. Which is a shame, because these boys were hot. No crooked noses or creepy Joe Goldberg vibes at all.”
“I mean, I guess it’s a plus if you can find a guy that’s not going to hold you hostage and possibly kill you,” I joke, and then realize just how bad that joke is right now.
Electra doesn’t seem to find it all that funny either. “Seriously, Amara. I was really worried about you. You never go radio silent.”
“My phone was lost,” I say. It’s not a complete lie either. “Turns out it was in a work car.”
“You have a work car?” she asks. Okay, that part is a little bit of a stretch.
“Sometimes,” I answer. Jesus. If I wasn’t literally looking at myself in the mirror right now, I’d be worried I was starting to look like Pinocchio.
“Alright. Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Though I do have to admit this job is starting to worry me.”
“My job is going well,” I tell her, reaching for another lock of hair.
“Are you sure about that? Because I feel like this sexy but psycho boss of yours has your hands tied.”
I bite my lips. There are a number of things in this conversation that are meant to be metaphorical and yet… aren’t.
“He’s paying me very well,” I say as I look down at the dress. “Treating me well too.”
“Really? Your boss? The guy that stormed your date to go off on you about work? That guy?”
“Yes. And by the way, he kind of saved me from a real creep that day, no thanks to you.”
“He was a little handsy, wasn’t he?” I can literally hear her grimacing through the phone. “My bad. But this guy, the one from the date we were supposed to go on, isn’t like that at all.”
“Are you sure about that?” I ask as I apply lip gloss.
“Oh, yeah. He’s a nurse.”
“A nurse?” I ask.
“An ER nurse. And he has tattoos. How hot is that?”
“A tattooed ER nurse.” I echo, making sure every hair is in place.
“If you want, I can tell them you had Covid or something and couldn’t make it. They both work at the hospital, I’m sure they’d understand. They’d probably take us somewhere nicer than Mulligans too.”
“I can’t,” I say apologetically, making my way to the door to slip into my heels. “I’m busy.”
“I haven’t even said when yet,” Electra says, and I stop. Fuck.
“Right. I just mean—”
“Did I do something wrong, Amara?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
“Because I feel like something is going on. Like you’re not just avoiding going on dates. You’re avoiding me.”
“Electra. I would never avoid you. I just—”
“I get that your job is important, but we have been best friends forever and—”
“I’m seeing someone,” I blurt out, then close my eyes and bite my lips.
It’s quiet for a beat. Then—
“Wait. Really? Like… a boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
I wait for the reaction. This could go so many ways right now.
“Wow. Why didn’t you tell me?! Okay, wait. I want to know everything, but I want to know in person. Please, please, can we meet for drinks?”
“Soon,” I smile. “But I actually have a date tonight.”
“When?” she asks impatiently.
“When it gets more serious,” I answer, and a pit forms in my stomach. It’s a lie.
“It’s serious enough that you’ve been blowing me off!”
“I’ve only kept it secret so I wouldn’t jinx it,” I say. Another lie.
“Alright, fine. But as soon as you figure out whether or not this guy is ‘the one’, I need to know. And I need to meet him to make sure you’re not wrong.”
The call ends, and my lipsticked pout is very much a frown.
The one.
The one what? The one man I basically idolized for months? The one I woke up for, lived for, dressed for, and worked for? Only for him to end up being the one I never knew?
Now he’s the one I can’t predict, the one I fear, the one who drives me utterly insane.
Yet still, the one I can’t stop thinking about.
I pop the lid back on my lipstick and rub my lips together.
For now, I am not thinking about that. For now, I am going out to a fancy restaurant with a man who I used to fantasize over.
This whole thing would have had me flat on my back if I’d known that this was where I would be one day, no pun intended.
Well. Maybe a little bit intended.
Still, I feel guilty about blowing Electra off so much.
Even if she is a bit wild and does have a tendency to hook me up with lousy dates, she means well.
She’s also lonely, and I can’t help but wish she had someone special.
At least she wouldn’t be trying to hook me up with every guy she comes across who looks tall, dark, and desperate.
Speaking of desperate…
I look in the mirror again and I can’t help thinking it: I really do look good.
Good enough that maybe Ransome will notice me.
Actually notice me. I guess there is a part of me still hoping for that.
As much as I preferred the times when I thought he was just an oil and gas steamroller, I suppose there is something sexy about being a next-in-line Bratva pakhan.
And who knows? Maybe I am Mrs. Ransome Rozanov material.
Even if it is just for show. I personally think I look much better on his arm than Jenica ever could.
I’m counting on it anyway. Because outside of this gritty, racy, wild world I have suddenly found myself a part of, I also have other people to think about. People who rely solely on me.
Ransome isn’t the only one with a lot at stake. He’s not the only one who has to play that game and play it smart.
So, yeah—I look good enough for Ransome to really notice me. Good enough to convince everyone that I am his.
Maybe even good enough to convince him.