6. Caleb
Caleb
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, waiting for Dom’s driveway gates to open.
Amara walks out, her dance bag slung over one shoulder. The morning sun catches her hair, making the sun-kissed strands of her brunette hair glow gold.
“Morning!” Poppy sing-songs in the back seat as Amara slides into the front. Poppy is always happy. Amara, not so much.
“Dad, tell Amara about my audition.”
“What audition?” Amara turns to face my daughter.
“Juilliard.” I grip the wheel tighter.
“New York,” Amara gasps. “You’re leaving me?”
“Yes. She wants to study dance in New York. Which is completely unnecessary when there are perfectly good schools here.”
“But Dad, I want to be seen. Australian schools are great but Juilliard...” Poppy leans forward between the seats. “It’s where dreams come true.”
“It’s where eighteen-year-olds get eaten alive,” I mutter.
“I can come with you,” Amara says, like she’s just realized something nobody else knows.
“Yeah!” Poppy jumps on the seat behind us. “I just have to do well in the audition.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I tell Poppy. It’s not that I don’t believe in her, I do. But she already mentioned this morning about the limited spaces for contemporary dancers.
Amara’s hand brushes my arm. “She’s talented enough.”
“That’s not the point.” I start the engine and move away, not wanting to listen anymore.
“Then what is?” Poppy crosses her arms as I turn a corner. “You can’t keep me here forever.”
I don’t answer. I stare at the road ahead.
Poppy doesn’t realize that after losing her mother, that’s exactly what I want. To keep her protected from the world forever.
The rest of the drive passes with Poppy chattering about New York, choreography, and costumes.
I sigh as I catch her gaze in the rearview mirror. She knows I’m being overprotective, and I suspect she is trying to get on my nerves.
“We’re here,” I grumble as I park at the rear of the parking lot and out of the glare of the sun.
“Thanks, Caleb,” Amara says as the two girls climb out of the car and walk to the back.
Amara’s leotard rides up as she grabs her bag from the trunk. I force myself to look away.
“Are you going for a coffee?” Poppy asks me.
I point to a pile of assignments and shake my head. “I need to get these signed off before school starts again.”
It’s over an hour later when my phone chimes. I glance up and wait. Finally, the door opens as Amara returns alone.
“Hi,” she says as she climbs in beside me.
“Did you learn anything today?”
“Only that I can’t dance to save my life, so Juilliard is out of the question for me.”
“Good. I don’t want you to leave me, too.”
Our eyes connect as the sun streams through the side window, hitting her face.
I reach over and snap down the black visor.
“Better?”
She nods, settling her back against the passenger seat. My hand falls to her thigh, thumb tracing small circles on her skin.
Her hand slaps over mine. She looks pained as she stares at me. “We can’t do this anymore.”
“Why? What changed, Amara?”
She sighs. “Everything...”
I can see she’s in turmoil, probably something to do with wanting her passport. But why?
“I told you. I’m being blackmailed. And if you’re on one of those videos...”
“Maybe we could all move to New York.” I turn my hand over and take hers, squeezing. “You said you wanted to get away from here.”
She gasps. “You’d take me with you?”
“I know I’m too old for you, Amara, and I know all your fears because of Dom. I love the man. He was so good to me when my wife died, but I have to move on.” I close my eyes and turn to her, opening them and saying, “And I want to move on with you. If you want me.”
“As a couple. Not as...”
“As a couple,” I interrupt her. “Me and you. We could visit New York, get Poppy settled in and then travel around the US.”
“You’d do that?” she sobs.
I pull her into my arms as tears spill down her cheeks. Her body trembles against mine, and my heart clenches. Something’s wrong. The way she curls into me, like she’s trying to disappear.
“What’s going on, sweetheart?”
She shakes her head against my chest. “Apart from being blackmailed.”
“Forget about being blackmailed. I’ll take you away from here.” I click my fingers. “It’s gone. There’s nothing to worry about.”
She shakes her head. “I only have six days left to give the information to my blackmailer.”
“Six days.”
She’s shaking as she nods. I stroke her hair, breathing in her coconut shampoo. “And I’ve done something stupid.”
“Whatever it is, we can fix it.”
Her fingers clutch my shirt before she pulls back, wiping her eyes. “I was searching Dom’s office for information, and he caught me.”
Ice floods my veins as I think about the conversation with Dom at the golf game. “Christ, Amara. You can’t do that to Dom.” My stomach drops. “How did Dom react to finding you in his office?”
“At first he was angry, but then he was too calm.” She swallows. “He thinks I was looking for my passport.” She wraps her arms around herself.
“But you were looking for information to give your blackmailer.” I blow out a deep breath as she nods. “Tell Dom.”
“No!”
“It’s the best way. He’ll tell you the best way to deal with it.”
“And I’ll have to tell him about the Pampered Princess website and why I was on there.”
“Why were you, Amara?” I ask. “You don’t need the money.”
“I do.” Her voice lowers. “I have a nice car to drive. I get a weekly allowance, but it’s only enough to buy lunch and gas. Not enough to...”
Her eyes land on me. “You planned to run away from here.”
She nods. “I have to. I’m frightened, Caleb.”
“It’s probably an idle threat. Dom will hunt the blackmailer and the consequences will be dire for them.”
“I know... That’s why I was thinking about who it was, and when you mentioned your brother.”
“You think it’s me? Is this you trying to put me off?”
She shakes her head. “I know you would never do that to me, but your brother...” She touches my arm. “Detective Miles. What kind of cases does he handle?”
“Organized crime, mainly. Why?”
“Would he...would he do something like blackmail to get ahead?”
“Jack would never do something like that. He’s straight as an arrow. But honestly Amara , I don't speak to him a great deal.”
She slumps in her seat. “I…I just…I don’t know who to trust anymore.”
I watch as a car pulls into the parking space in front of us, blocking our view of the dance studio.
A family with two toddlers dressed in leotards and tutus gets out of the car. The little girls hold hands as they head to their lesson.
We’re near to the ocean, and the waves crashing against golden sand are now the only sound in the car. But my focus keeps returning to Amara’s tear-stained face.
“Come to my home after this and we’ll write everything down. Times, dates, messages. There might be a pattern we’re missing.”
“You’d help me?” Her blue eyes search mine.
“Of course I would.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “I want you, Amara. Not as a sugar baby client. I want all of you.”
“You do?” Her voice hitches.
“I need to see you again.” The words come out rougher than intended. “Properly. Not just these stolen moments. Or seeing you on the website.”
Her breath catches. “Caleb... We said it had to end.”
“It never began, Amara. And I realize I want it to.”
“But it’s complicated...”
“I know it’s complicated. But I miss you.”
“Dom will kill you, Caleb.”
I touch her face. “But you’re worth the risk.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you. I know you’re too young and too beautiful for me.”
“No, I’m not.” A smile breaks across her face—the one that first captured me, the one that still makes my heart skip. The smile that helped heal me after losing my wife. No one has ever affected me the way Amara does.
I smile. “Then let’s start slow. We’ll keep it between us.” My thumb traces her jawline. “And we’ll figure out who’s doing this to you, and then we’ll leave. Start fresh somewhere new.”
The parking lot sits empty except for a few scattered cars and squabbling seagulls. My hand slides to her nape, drawing her closer until our breaths mingle.
Her lips meet mine, soft and yielding. She tastes like mint and something uniquely Amara.
She doesn’t resist as I deepen the kiss, my tongue sweeping into her mouth as she sighs.
Her fingers thread through my hair, nails scraping my scalp. Heat floods my body as she shifts closer, practically climbing into my lap. And fuck do I want her to?
I’ve never gone beyond kissing Amara. But now I kiss her like I’ve wanted to since that first meeting—thoroughly, desperately, pouring everything into it.
She makes a little whimper against my mouth, driving me crazy with a primal urge to hide her away from the world.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen, cheeks flushed. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
“I want you, Amara.”
I wait, my heart pounding, as her eyes flit around my face, searching for something. I’m desperate for her to tell me she wants me and only me. No Pampered Princess, no other clients—just me.
“When this is over. When we get away from here. Then, I will be yours.”
The thought of Dom finding out sends a chill down my spine. He would kill me without a second thought. And although I haven’t slept with his stepdaughter yet, the writing is on the wall. That is undeniable.
I could confront Dom, tell him I’m not letting Amara go for anyone else. That my feelings are genuine, raw, and I need to act on them before it’s too late.
But then I remember the way Dom talks about Amara, the possessive edge in his voice, the way his piercing blue eyes soften when he looks at her.
He’s not just her stepfather; he’s someone who would do anything to protect her. And the Dom I know would not normally take kindly to someone searching his office, which possibly means one thing: Dom feels the same way I do about Amara, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.
And that realization makes my stomach twist.
Does that mean Amara is right?
Will Dom destroy me if I dare to claim what I want?
But I want her.
It’s a risk I’m willing to take.