26. Amara
Amara
There’s a tap on my bedroom door as I sit at my dresser and use a special foundation Milly bought me to cover my slowly disappearing bruises. It’s been weeks since my accident but the last of the bruises refuses to budge.
“Come in,” I say, staring into the mirror and seeing my sister Lia step inside. I’ve seen her enough times to know who she is by now.
“It’s me. Your sister, Lia.” She walks toward me.
“I know.”
“Do you remember me?” She pulls me in for a hug.
“Not from before, but I know you’re a good person.”
She looks at me like she’s upset that I don’t remember her. I wish I did. “Your memories will come back,” she says.
“I know. Mom told me I was dating Mateo before the accident and...”
“What the hell? No, you weren’t.”
“I wasn’t?”
“I found you arguing with him. And you told Milly that you found him and Enzo in a compromising position at a party.”
“I did?”
“So, it wasn’t a lover’s argument?” I ask, thinking about the detective’s visit.
“No. It was bigger than that. I suspect Mateo was making sure you never told anyone what you saw.”
I gasp as I turn on the chair and stare at her. “He had a motive to kill me.”
Lia walks to the bed and sits on the edge. “But he was seen fleeing from the secret exit. And why would he blatantly threaten you in the club if he planned to kill you?”
I touch my face, feeling the stickiness of the foundation on my fingertips.
“But you wanted to talk to me about something that was happening to you,” Lia says, her voice cracking slightly. “I’m so sorry that I never came to you to find out what was wrong.”
I hold her biceps as I stare at her and smell her perfume—something citrusy and light.
“But what the hell makes Mom think you’re dating Mateo?” she asks, her eyebrows knitting together.
“I might have been. I just don’t remember him.” My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. The name Mateo stirs something in my gut—not butterflies, but something darker, like spiders crawling under my skin.
“There is no way in this life you were dating.” Lia’s voice is firm, certain in a way that makes me believe her. “He is too dark for you. He’s too dark for anyone.”
I swallow back the lump that has made its way into my throat. The metallic taste of fear lingers on my tongue.
“Anyway, I came to get you because dinner is ready,” she says. “Xander and Cole are here, too.”
“Cole?” The name echoes emptily in my mind as I walk into the bathroom and wash my hands.
“Xander’s friend from college.”
When I come out of the bathroom, she takes my hand and leads me from my bedroom. The hallway stretches before us, and the plush carpet is soft beneath my bare feet.
“We should go to the beach. You, me, Milly, some of your friends. What do you think?” Lia squeezes my hand gently.
“Dominic takes me for walks along the beach. He thinks the fresh air will help with my memories,” I say. The memory of salt air and the sound of waves crashes over me. “I like it. But Mom freaked when she found out.”
“Why?”
“She thinks I was targeted and someone actually tried to kill me.” I turn to Lia with unshed tears burning behind my eyes. My chest tightens as I ask, “What did I do?”
She pulls me to her, holding me tightly.
“Nobody would ever want to hurt you. You’re funny.
You’re perfect. And you’ve hurt no one in your life.
” She glances around us, making sure nobody is listening and says, “But I will find out who knocked you over, and if I find out it was intentional, they’ll pay. ”
I smile. “I like you.”
Her face lights up as she gives me a beautiful grin. “Thank you, but you love me, Amara, and I love you.”
I take her hand. “Let’s get dinner.”
“Ah, there you are,” Dominic says when we reach the bottom of the staircase a few minutes later. “Dinner is being served.”
We’re ushered into the formal dining room where everyone is already seated around the long, polished table set with fine china and glittering crystal glassware.
Throughout the starter, I glance at the other people around the table, wishing I knew them better.
“These prawns and Moreton Bay bugs are the best,” Milly says.
She is right; the food is delicious. The next course is served, and I just sit and listen to everyone chatter about their day. But Mom rises from her chair, makes her apologies before disappearing into the kitchen.
“Are you okay?” Lia whispers, rubbing her palm over the back of my hand.
“Sorry.” I’m too busy listening to Mom demanding more champagne, telling the staff off because her guests have empty glasses.
Her heels click sharply on the marble floor as she returns to the table just as dessert is being served.
More footsteps as servers walk around the table filling glasses.
Dom stops one server and whispers something. She nods and leaves the room.
Dominic rises from his seat, looks around the table, and says, “I’d like to make a family announcement.”
Dominic looks at me before he clears his throat and says, “I’m officially handing over my position in the Syndicate to Dante. I’ve had a long, hard think about everything you did to gain my approval for this position, and you’re not only ready, but you are also going to be an outstanding leader.”
I stare at Dom in shock, my mouth slightly open.
The announcement seems to hang in the air, heavy with meaning I can’t fully grasp. But it’s enough of a shock that everyone around the table has gone still. Their expressions are one of surprise or perhaps something else. Maybe it’s relief or concern. I’m just not sure which person feels what.
Dante breaks the silence, his fork clattering against his plate. “I... I never thought this day would come.” His voice cracks slightly. “I always assumed you’d run the Syndicate until...”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but everyone knows what he means. Until death. As is expected, I assume.
Dom’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles at his son. “You’ve earned it. I’m proud of you—of the family you, Rafe, Cade, and Lia have formed.” He raises his glass higher. “To the future of the de Luca family.”
The table erupts in congratulations, glasses clinking.
But Mom’s face tightens, her knuckles white around her champagne flute. This clearly wasn’t the announcement she was expecting. I’m just not sure why it bothers her so much.
Lia catches my eye and smiles.
“You really have three boyfriends?” I murmur. The words tumble out before I can stop them.
“It’s definitely out now,” she says, leaning toward me.
“Three?”
She doesn’t seem offended. Instead, her smile widens, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “How could I choose?”
I smile back, warmth unfurling in my chest. A memory, perhaps? The feeling of sisterly connection that precedes my amnesia.
I glance at Dom and catch him looking at me. He lifts his flute slightly in my direction, a private toast that makes my heart skip. Then he turns back to the table, resuming his role as the gracious host.
Under the table, I twist the tennis bracelet I found in my jewelry box around my wrist as I stare back at Dom.
Whatever is happening here...whatever has happened, I’m starting to feel like there’s more to my relationship with Dom than just being his stepdaughter.
And that thought terrifies and thrills me in equal measure.
Dom turns back to Dante and smiles as he lifts his flute in the air. “You’ve come a long way for someone who never wanted this. But I never doubted you. To Dante.”
“Thank fuck for that,” Xander says. We don’t see each other very much, but he was kind when he and Dom brought me home from the hospital.
“I’d like everyone to toast my son, the new head of the de Luca family.” Dominic smiles at me and then Lia before placing his glass on the table. He turns back to Dante. “I’ll make the arrangements for you to be officially sworn into the Syndicate in the coming weeks.”
A chair scrapes over the marble floor. I turn to my left as Mom stands and twists on her heels to face Dominic. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Don’t you dare speak like that in front of my family!”
I grip the edge of the table as Mom’s face twists with rage. The atmosphere in the room shifts instantly from celebratory to toxic.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Mom repeats, her voice rising. “You’re giving up everything we worked for?”
Dom’s jaw tightens. “What we worked for? I don’t recall you ever contributing to my business, Helena.”
“You’re making a massive mistake.” She points a manicured finger at him. “You’ve built this empire for decades and now you’re just walking away? For what?”
“My reasons are my own,” Dom says coolly. “And frankly, it shouldn’t matter to you. You’re not part of this household anymore, remember?”
Mom laughs, a bitter sound that makes me flinch. “Of course it matters! Do you have any idea how this alters my standing? The respect I’ve earned as your wife?”
“Wife?” Dom’s voice drops dangerously low. “You have no standing here, Helena. You never did.”
The table falls silent. Even the servers freeze in place.
“I’ve been by your side!” Mom shrieks.
“And I’ve paid you handsomely for the privilege,” Dom responds, his eyes cold. “But let’s not pretend it was anything more than a transaction.”
Mom snatches her napkin from her lap and hurls it at Dom’s face. It flutters pathetically before landing on the table.
“Go to hell,” she spits before storming out of the room, heels clicking like gunshots on the marble floor.
My body shivers from head to toe. I feel like I’ve had a bucket of cold water thrown over my head as goosebumps pop over my skin. Something about everything feels too familiar, like I’ve witnessed this exact scene before.
I can’t hold it in anymore. A sob escapes my lips, then another, until I’m fully crying at the dinner table. I press my hands to my face, mortified but unable to stop.
“Oh, sorry, darling.” Mom rushes back to me, but Milly holds her palm up for her stop.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Milly shouts, standing up so fast her chair tips backward. “Can’t you two keep your shit together for one fucking dinner? Look what you’ve done to her!”
Dom dashes toward me, but Milly blocks his path. “No! You’ve both done enough damage. Just leave her alone!”
Lia’s arm wraps around my shoulders. “Come on,” she whispers, helping me to my feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
I let her guide me away from the table, away from the stares and the rising tension. My tears blur everything as we move through the house until I reach my room. Where I collapse onto my bed, the tears finally subsiding into hiccuping breaths.
“I just need to be alone.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod.
Hours later and I’m still staring at the ceiling fans it spins lazily above me, creating a hypnotic pattern that matches the whirling thoughts in my head.
What was that transaction Dom mentioned?
And why does my mother hate him so much?
I roll onto my side and pull my knees to my chest.
A soft knock on my door makes me sit up quickly. I wipe my face, hoping I don’t look as wrecked as I feel.
“Come in,” I call, my voice still raspy from crying.
The door opens slowly, and Dom stands in the doorway. His imposing frame fills the space, but his expression is uncharacteristically hesitant. The hard lines of his face have softened.
“May I?” he asks, gesturing to the edge of my bed.
I nod, pulling my legs up to make room for him.
He sits down; the mattress dipping under his weight. For a moment, he just looks at me, his blue eyes searching my face.
“I’m sorry about dinner,” he finally says. “That was...inexcusable.”
“It’s not your fault,” I mumble, picking at a loose thread on my comforter.
“It is.” His voice is firm. “My home should be a sanctuary for you, not a battlefield.”
I look up at him, surprised by the intensity in his gaze.
“Your mother and I...” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated. But that’s no excuse for subjecting you to that kind of scene.”
Dom reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away, but I don’t. His hand covers mine, warm and steady.
“I promise you, piccola, it won’t happen again.”
Piccola.
There is something about the nickname. If he’s always called me it and maybe I put the information in my diary.
The diary that I still haven’t found.