5. Amara
Amara
It's been three days since Dom was in my bed, and I haven't been able to get him out of my mind. It's also pretty awkward in the house at the moment.
I'm trying to avoid him as much as possible. Luckily, he is out a lot at the moment.
After slipping on a pair of denim shorts and a yellow tee-shirt, I glance at the bruises on my throat, a perfect line of three purple spots.
Which means Con raises his pinky in the air when he squeezes.
The other side of my neck, where his thumb was firmer, the bruise is deeper, dark purple with red blood spots scattered inside.
I switch on my make-up mirror and squeeze a dollop of primer on my finger, covering each bruise and hope it will keep the coating of foundation I apply next in place for the day.
I know it’ll get a little harder when they turn green, though; I need to work out how to counteract that color.
Perhaps I need a deeper tan.
I head downstairs to the kitchen. I falter seeing Dom smiling at me as he eats a bacon sandwich at the kitchen island.
Not wanting to make this any more awkward than it already is, I slot two slices of bread into the toaster and glance around the room. “Are you looking forward to Helena coming home today?”
He grunts and rolls his eyes skyward.
I smile. It’s so Dom.
“Are you?”
"I'm not looking forward to the two of you arguing again." I roll my eyes.
He nods to my beach bag. "Where are you going?"
“I’m meeting Milly, Poppy and Frankie at the beach today. Hopefully Lia too. I’ll be staying away for the day.”
“Good plan. Because she is going to be pissed with me for leaving her In Victoria.”
“I thought she was doing the dirty on you,” I say as the toast pops up. I grab the butter and spread a thick layer over.
Today his near black hair is impeccably styled, and teamed with his blue eyes and tanned skin. He’s the epitome of a Greek god.
He wears black jeans and a black button down. It’s like a uniform of sorts, and I expect his wardrobe comprises nothing else, just the same clothes, apart from when he is at the beach or in the pool.
I take my toast and sit on a stool at the white marble kitchen island as Dom slides a mug of coffee my way.
“Thank you,” I say. “You should come to the beach. We’re going surfing. I can teach you.”
He laughs. “I’m too old. I haven’t surfed in years.”
“You’re not too old.” Our eyes lock as I smile at him.
I've always liked Dom. He has always been kind to me, even if the life he leads is damn right scary.
Dom’s jaw ticks as he stares at my covered neck. When he turns away, I flick my hair so it falls down my chest, hoping with the make-up coverage he forgets about it again.
“Apparently, the waves are going to be epic this afternoon,” I tell Dom. “Milly is so excited.”
My sister, Milly, is the expert surfer in the family.
Dom grumbles something, but I miss it, lost in my thoughts, before I push myself off the stool and place my plate in the dishwasher just as my phone chimes with a message.
My stomach churns every time it makes that sound—the sound I allocated to my blackmailer.
I pull my phone from my pocket and read the message.
SweetJustice: I’m going to give you seven days to get something for me. That should give you time to do the job properly.
I feel like I can breathe again. Seven days' worth.
Another message.
SweetJustice: But fail and this video will be sent to Dominic de Luca on day eight. I advise you to comply with my wishes.
The next message reads: Is this video innocent or the start of something big?
I swallow as I click on the video.
It shows me with Mr. Anderson as he walks me from the restaurant to his car. His hand is on my lower back and his gaze is on the side of my face. He opens his car door and presses a tender kiss on my cheek. I get in the car and he gets in the driver’s seat before he drives away.
“You okay,” Dom asks. “You look pale.”
“My stomach…” I rush away to the nearest bathroom, throw myself on the floor and hurl up my breakfast that I can’t keep inside me any longer.
His heavy footsteps aren’t far behind me.
“Amara.” Dom’s voice is soft as he strokes his palm over my back. “Are you sure you’re…” The hesitation in his voice is too much. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “It’d have to be an immaculate conception.”
His hand stills.
I grab my phone and push it into my short’s pocket.
With Con now off the cards, I need a new plan.
Because Mr. Anderson is not the person I worry Dom will find out about.
My bedroom door opens and my sister Milly comes rushing in. She’s wearing a bikini with a see-through dress over it.
Normally, she looks so happy.
Not so much today.
“Are you coming to the beach today? Or calling off again?” she asks.
“I’m coming today,” I say, forcing a smile. “I need to get out of this house.”
Milly nods, but her usual sparkle is missing. No quips about my hermit tendencies. No teasing about how pale I’m getting from hiding in my room. Something’s wrong.
“What’s going on, Mills? You seem off.”
She slumps onto my bed, picking at a loose thread on my comforter. “Romeo and I broke up last night.”
“Oh, Mills.” I sit beside her and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She leans into me, sniffling.
“But it’s for the best. This life isn’t for you. You’re too free and this is...it’s suffocating sometimes, isn’t it?” I squeeze her tighter.
“I love him, Amara. But his family...our family...everything’s so complicated.” She wipes her eyes. “I’m thinking of visiting Dad for a few days while uni’s on break. I miss him.”
My chest tightens at the mention of our biological father. “That’s actually a great idea. Get some space, clear your head.”
“You should come too!” Milly perks up slightly. “We could both use the break.”
I shake my head, thinking of SweetJustice’s seven-day deadline. “I can’t right now. But you should definitely go.”
Her phone chimes, and she checks it. “Frankie’s on her way.” She hops up and heads to my closet, pulling out my beach bag and tossing it onto the bed. “Get ready. Ten minutes.”
She throws in my favorite blue bikini, sunscreen, and a towel. For a moment, I see a flash of the old Milly. The same Milly who takes charge, and makes plans.
“Don’t forget your surfboard,” she calls over her shoulder as she heads for the door. “The waves are supposed to be perfect today.”
Maybe it’s the perfect place to come up with a plan.
And I need an escape.
My sandals are in my hand as I kick on the sand, watching the grains float off my feet.
I’ve spent so many warm summer days playing on the beach with my sisters. Each day I have adored it. But today, the blackness in my heart seems to override the sunshine that warms my skin.
Xander’s roomie, Cole, gives me a wave as I stroll along the beach. He is straddling his surfboard, getting ready to take the next wave.
Milly’s friend and Con’s sister, Frankie, sit on their boards beside him. Both waiting to paddle out.
The sunlight glistens on the waves like diamonds.
I wave back at Cole.
I like Cole. Not only because he is built like an Olympic swimmer. All long lean tanned muscles glistening in the sun or sometimes glistening with sweat after he’s used Dom’s home gym when he comes to the house with Xander.
I like him because he’s always kind to me.
“Amara,” Poppy yells behind me.
I spin as she gets out of the car with her father.
Caleb smiles and I give him a weak smile in return.
The way he moves does things to my body. The way the muscles in his back stretch out the back of his shirt. He isn’t a big man, not muscular anyway, not gym honed, he is more like a man who enjoys a run in the park.
But I can’t think about him right now.
I take my mobile from my back pocket. Flicking through my contact list and stopping at my father. “What am I going to do?” I whisper-hiss. But unlike Milly, I can’t take my problem to his doorstep. I just can’t do it.
How can I?
“You okay?” A deep voice asks.
I squeak and my eyes dart to him. “Oh, Caleb, you scared me.”
He holds my arm, his thumb strokes over my elbow. It’s a soothing touch, like he truly cares how I am.
I smile, but I know it is weak.
“Sit down,” he says. “You look like you’ll collapse if you walk any further.”
I do as I’m told.
Always doing as I’m told.
“I never expected you to walk on the beach,” I say. He is wearing a pair of board shorts and a tee-shirt and looks a lot less professor-like than he normally does.
“There’s lots about me you don’t know. And there’s lots about you I expect you like to keep to yourself.”
I chew on my lip and wonder why he is being so cryptic. Normally, the professor is more direct.
“I suspect you’re right,” I reply.
His strong chest rises and falls quickly, his gaze penetrating me through his dark sunglasses, but I can see his eyes staring into mine.
His hand drifts through the hot sand until the end of his fingertips touch mine.
Nerve endings tingle everywhere on my body, my skin heats rapidly.
He does this to me.
Makes my legs weak and the hair on my neck stand on end.
It started with watching him in class. It took away my thoughts from the car crash. That is my life. But I should never have agreed to meet him.
I don’t know if he is an addiction or an obsession to me, whether he is a need or a want. But I know I can’t have him. Not only because he is forbidden as my professor, but also because Dominic will kill him if he finds out.
“I think someone has pictures of us together.”
He releases a shaky breath. “What makes you think that?”
“Someone contacted me on Pampered Princess, I thought...” I sigh as he stares at Cole surfing on a high wave.
Cole looks at us. He thinks I can’t see because of his wrap-around sunglasses, but the tilt of his head in my direction is the telltale signal.
I give him a wave and pretend everything is normal. Acting nonchalant as I turn and smile, and say, “I’m being blackmailed. Someone has pictures of me with Mr. Anderson. He’s…”
“The mayor?”
I swallow. “I know, but the person claims they have so much more, and Dom will be very interested in them.”
He slides his hand over the sand until it covers mine. The heat of it sends a shiver down my spine. “Do you want me to get my brother to look into who it is?”
“Your brother?”
“Detective Miles. He heads the crime investigation team at Robina.”
SweetJustice?
Could Detective Miles be SweetJustice?
The motive fits. Is he blackmailing me for information about Dom’s operation? It would be the career-making case for any detective to take down Dominic de Luca.
“Not yet.” I dig my toes into the warm sand, watching a seagull dive for someone’s abandoned hot chips. “I’d prefer fewer people knew about me until it gets dangerous.”
His fingers tighten over mine but remain under the sand. “Is that why you stopped seeing me?”
The ocean breeze carries the salt spray to my face, mixing with the coconut scent of my sunscreen. I want to lean into him, feel his warmth against my skin like before. But I can’t.
“If Dom finds out...” My voice cracks. The image of Dom’s rage, of what he might do to Caleb, makes my stomach twist. Dom may act kind, but I’ve seen what happens to people who cross him.
Caleb shifts closer, his thigh barely touching mine. “He won’t.”
“You don’t know him like I do.” I pull my hand away, wrapping my arms around my knees. “He’d hurt you, Caleb. And I couldn’t...” The words stick in my throat.
“I know Dom.” He sighs. “Are you going to the dance school tomorrow?” His voice is low and husky. The same tone that used to make me melt in his arms. Before I told him it had to stop.
I nod.
“I’ll pick you up in the morning,” he says as Poppy dashes across the beach toward us.
“Okay.”
“Come on Amara.” Poppy glances between me and her father. “Are you okay? Even Milly is telling everyone you’re acting strange.”
“Marvelous!” I nod. “But yes, I’m fine.”
I push off the sand and turn to Caleb. “I appreciate the chat.”
“Anytime.”
If it’s his brother behind the blackmail, he’ll only want enough to further his career. I’m sure I can find something to pacify him.
“I should go.” I stand up, brushing sand from my legs as our eyes meet. “The others are waiting.”