32. Caleb
Caleb
It’s been over a week since I saw Amara, and I’ve tried to keep myself busy, to stop myself from going to her. I have to wait and cross my fingers so that eventually we’ll be together. But it’s so fucking hard.
I stare at the pile of student papers waiting to be graded on my kitchen table. Just fifteen more to go before I can reward myself with a beer.
The doorbell rings, interrupting my academic purgatory.
Dom stands on my doorstep, looking like he just stepped out of a GQ photoshoot in his tailored suit. The contrast between us couldn’t be more stark—me in my faded university sweatshirt with reading glasses perched on my nose, him exuding power and wealth from every pore.
“Come in,” I say, moving aside.
He follows me to the kitchen, where I return to my modest table. My house is comfortable but nothing like his modernist palace by the sea.
“Coffee.”
“We need to talk about Amara,” Dom says, declining the coffee with a slight shake of his head.
“We do.” I set my red pen down, giving him my full attention.
“I think it’s time we sorted this out, once and for all.”
I lean back in my chair. “I’m not giving her up, Dom.”
His eyes narrow. “Even though you know what I am and what I am capable of?”
“I’ve known what you are for years. It changes nothing.”
“She’s my stepdaughter.”
“And she’s a grown woman who can make her own choices.”
Dom’s jaw tightens. “We’ve been friends for a decade, Caleb. Best friends.”
“Which is why this conversation is happening in my kitchen instead of some warehouse with your men holding me down.”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “She wants us both. Did she tell you that?”
This catches me off guard. “What?”
“I was going to give her up. Let you have her.”
“Why would you do that?”
Dom sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “I feel too old for her. Hell, you are too, but twenty years is better than thirty.”
I process this information, trying to make sense of it. “So what changed?”
“Tell me the truth. Did you fuck her? Before the accident?”
“No,” I admit. “We hadn’t gotten that far.”
“Good.” Dom’s eyes lock with mine. “She’s pregnant with my child. And that is why I’m not giving her up.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I stare at Dom, trying to comprehend what he’s just told me. “She was seeing you before the accident?”
“It was a one off. She tried to seduce me to get information from me.”
My mind races with questions, jealousy, and confusion. Pregnant? How could this happen?
“And you’re telling me this because you now believe I had nothing to do with her accident?”
“You’d be dead by now if I thought you betrayed me.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know. Now we need to work out what we are going to do.”
I stare at Dom, feeling like the floor just dropped out from under me. He knows who tried to betray him and who tried to kill Amara, but I feel I should step back from those questions. I suspect it’s all linked to his son Rafe’s kidnapping.
I clear my throat. “How far along is she?” My voice sounds hollow even in my own ears.
“We don’t know yet. Around four weeks. She’ll need an ultrasound. Amara doesn’t know it, but I contacted the hospital this morning. And they’ve confirmed she is pregnant, yet never contacted me.”
“They’ll have contacted her next of kin.” I stand and pace across my kitchen floor.
“Helena.” Dom sighs. “And she wouldn’t want me to know.”
“She’ll be protecting Amara. She’s gone through so much already.” I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots slightly.
“I need your help, Caleb. Your brother—can he get us information on the vehicle that hit her? Before I make a move I want to make sure I have the right person.”
“You know who it is?” I stop pacing and face him.
Dom nods. “I think so.”
I blow out a breath. “I’ve already tried talking to him. Talked to him yesterday, actually.”
“And?”
“The license plate wasn’t grainy in the footage like they initially thought. It had been painted over.”
Dom’s eyes narrow. “Which confirms she was targeted deliberately.”
“Looks that way.”
“And they found the car torched just over the border, on the New South Wales side.”
“Interesting.” Dom leans against the counter. “Because there’ll be footage of the car being driven to that location. If the person torched the car, they had to have a getaway vehicle nearby or an accomplice.”
I rub my jaw, the stubble making a scratching sound against my palm. “Why would anyone target Amara?”
“We both know about her on the Pampered Princess website,” Dom says, his voice dropping. “But what I don’t understand is why? I give her a healthy monthly allowance. She didn’t need money.”
“It could’ve been a bit of fun and–”
“It went wrong when the wrong person found out,” Dom adds.
I consider this for a moment, and the realization hits me. “She was being blackmailed?”
“And that’s what she told me the night before the accident.”
I grab a chair and sit as the weight of Dom’s revelation crushes me. The idea of Amara carrying his child feels like a knife twisting in my gut, but I push aside my feelings. Someone tried to kill her—that’s what matters now.
“Let’s think about this logically,” I say. “Who would want Amara dead? And why?”
Dom’s expression darkens. “There’s only one real reason anyone would target her specifically.”
“To take you down,” I finish his thought. “But first, they’d need information on Amara to do that.”
“Or to protect themselves,” Dom adds, his eyes narrowing. “From me.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“Mayor Anderson.” His face transforms into something thunderous. “I was sent a pretty picture of Amara and the Mayor. It looked innocent enough. A meal at a discreet hotel in the Northern suburbs.”
“But how does that take you down?” I ask, trying to connect the dots.
Dom runs a hand over his beard. “She was asking me questions. When was I meeting the Syndicate at the club again? What shipment was coming in through the marina?”
I whistle low. “Not exactly subtle.”
“And I saw her on the hallway camera, trying to listen to my conversation with Antonio about the Colombian deal. So I started talking to Antonio about the next Syndicate meeting and pretended that it was a big meeting. I wanted to see what happened.”
“Fuck. The night the club was raided.”
Dom nods.
The reality of the situation hits me. “She’s lucky she’s alive.”
Dom’s eyes meet mine, filled with a cold fury I’ve rarely seen. “If Anderson is behind this, I’ll gut him myself.”
“We need proof first,” I say, the rational part of my brain still functioning. “And we need to keep Amara safe while we get it, because I suspect if he is behind it, he will want her dead in case she talks.”
I stare at Dom, my mind churning with everything we’ve discussed.
Pregnant. Amara is pregnant with his child.
The words keep repeating in my head like a broken record. I should be furious, jealous, devastated—and part of me is—but another part is stuck on something else entirely.
“What’s on your mind?” Dom asks, noticing my distant expression. “Besides the obvious.”
I tap my fingers against the wooden table, organizing my thoughts. “It’s just strange that your son, Rafe, was kidnapped that same night too. Do you think the two things are linked?”
Dom leans back against my kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His eyes narrow slightly as he contemplates this connection I’ve just made.
“Possible,” he admits after a long pause. “Though Rafe’s situation was definitely mafia-related.”
“Maybe Amara’s is too,” I suggest, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose.
Dom’s head snaps up, his piercing blue eyes suddenly alert. “Con,” he says, the single syllable dripping with venom.
“Who is Con?” I ask, leaning forward in my chair.
“Mateo Conti.” Dom runs a hand through his dark hair, tension radiating from him. “Amara knows something about Con. I overheard her talking to Milly about it.”
I stand up, needing to move. “What is it?”
“I’d prefer to keep it to myself,” Dom says, his jaw tightening.
“Enough to kill someone for?” I press, pacing across my small kitchen.
Dom’s eyes track my movement. “Where Mateo Conti is concerned, looking at him wrong is cause to be killed.”
“Loose cannon,” I mutter, stopping by the window to look out at my modest backyard.
Dom nods, turning the same way, his reflection visible in the glass. “And it makes sense.”
The weight of everything—Amara’s pregnancy, the attempt on her life, this new connection—settles heavily on my shoulders. “I think I need a whiskey,” I say, moving to a cabinet and pulling out a bottle of Macallan and two tumblers. I pour us each two fingers and hand one to Dom.
“What do we do now?” I ask, taking a sip and welcoming the burn.
Dom accepts the glass but doesn’t drink. His eyes are cold, calculating. “You do nothing. I’ll deal with it.”
I take another sip of whiskey, the burn in my throat nothing compared to the fire in my chest. Amara and Dom. The image of them together twists something inside me, but I force myself to focus on the bigger picture.
“But how does the mayor fit into this?” I ask, setting my glass down harder than intended.
Dom shrugs, his face unreadable. “I don’t know. Something isn’t adding up. Once I get some intel on the car, I’ll know more.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the counter. “Do you want me to talk to my brother?”
“No, Caleb, I think we have everything we need from him.” Dom’s voice is firm, brooking no argument. “It’s best that I deal with this directly from now on. If Mateo is involved, I have to tread carefully. He still might try to kill her.Which means the less the police know, the better.”
I study his face, the hard lines around his mouth, the icy determination in his eyes. I’ve known Dom long enough to recognize what that look means.
“You’re going to kill the person, even if it’s this Con guy?”
Dom doesn’t hesitate. “Even if it is Con.”
I nod slowly, not entirely comfortable with this, but understanding his position. If someone tried to hurt Poppy, I’d likely feel the same way. And with Amara carrying his child...
Hell, I’d kill for Amara too.
“Can I see Amara today?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
Dom’s eyes meet mine and he’s silent for a moment, weighing something in his mind. Finally, he nods.
“You can. But leave it until after five. She sent me a message to say Milly is taking her to the beach and shopping.”
“Again? Poppy said she’s hardly seen Amara this week because she's spending so much time with Milly.”
Dom smiles. “It’s nice to see Amara smile this past week.”