35. Caleb
Caleb
I pace the driveway, checking my watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. The news about the explosion after Helena’s funeral has me on edge. When Dom’s car finally pulls up, relief floods through me, only to vanish when I see Amara’s face through the window.
Amara stumbles out, mascara streaking down her cheeks, her entire body trembling. I rush forward, catching her as she nearly collapses against me.
“Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around her.
Milly climbs out next, slamming the door behind her. Her face is pale but composed—too composed.
“This is insane,” she hisses, pacing the driveway. “Someone just tried to kill Lia and Dante. A bomb, Caleb. A fucking bomb! We should never have left Dad. At least with him, we weren’t targets in some mafia war.”
I keep one arm around Amara while facing Milly. “I’m sure you’re safe.”
“Maybe so, but we’re still living in the epicenter.” Milly runs her hands through her hair. “I need air. I need space. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to the casino.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “The casino? Now? After what just happened?”
“Especially after what just happened.” She pulls out her phone. “I can’t just sit here waiting to die.”
Selfish. Considering the state her sister is in, I’d have thought she’d be more caring. But at the same time, I’m relieved at the chance to be alone with Amara.
“I’ll stay with Amara as long as needed,” I tell Milly. “Poppy’s at a sleepover at her friend’s house, anyway.”
“Thanks. I’ll wait here for Enzo to pick me up.”
Amara suddenly jerks away from me, grabbing her sister’s arm. “You can’t go out tonight! Are you crazy? You might be the next target!”
“I’m just me, Amara,” Milly says with a hollow laugh. “Like Caleb said, why would anyone target me?”
“Tell her, Caleb,” Amara pleads, turning to me with desperate eyes. “Tell her it’s not safe.” She clutches at my shirt. “Someone tried to kill Lia and Dante. There was a car bomb, Caleb. My sister could’ve died!”
“Don’t think about that right now.” I guide her toward the house, nodding at the driver, who watches us with careful eyes. “Dom has security everywhere. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“You don’t understand.” Her voice cracks. “What if they try to kill Dom next? What if they come here?”
I usher her inside, locking the door behind us. “That won't happen. Dom knows how to handle himself.”
In the kitchen, I sit her down, but her hands won’t stop shaking.
“I’ll make you some tea,” I offer, reaching for a mug.
She rocks her head. “I’d love something stronger. Vodka and tonic, but tea will do.”
I pause, studying her face. The request isn’t unusual, but something in her tone catches my attention. The way she asked for it, like it’s a memory rather than a random choice.
After I make her a cup of tea, I pour myself two fingers of Dom’s expensive Macallan.
She takes a sip of her hot tea and finds me staring.
“What?” she asks, voice steadier now.
“When did you get your memory back?” I ask quietly.
“I told you I have some random memories popping up.”
I shake my head. “This is more. You’ve recovered."
Her eyes widen slightly, but she recovers quickly. “How do you know that I have?”
Amara’s fingers tremble as she places the cup on the counter. Something clicks in my brain—the way she asked for the vodka and tonic. It was so specific, so familiar.
I take a sip of my drink and set the glass on the counter.
“Remember your eighteenth birthday?” I ask casually, watching her face. “Dom bought you and Xander that ridiculously expensive champagne—the one that cost more than my monthly mortgage. But you decided as it was your birthday you weren’t drinking champagne.”
Her eyes flicker up to mine, cautious.
“You and Poppy got yourselves a vodka and tonic instead.” I smile at the memory of her and my daughter laughing and dancing just before the evening turned to chaos.
She drinks more of her tea, longer this time, avoiding my gaze.
“When I asked why you were drinking a spirit, you told me your theory,” I continue, “that vodka was less likely to make you fat than champagne. Some nonsense about sugar content.”
A small smile plays on her lips. “I was just repeating Mom...” Her voice trails off, and her eyes shift downward, staring at the floor. The slip is obvious, immediate.
My heart pounds as I pick up my tumbler and take another sip of the burning liquid. “Do you remember?”
She lifts her head and stares directly into my eyes. “Yeah.”
My glass nearly slips from my hand. I set it down carefully on the counter, my mind racing.
“Everything?” I ask, hardly daring to breathe.
“Not everything. But enough.” She takes another sip of her tea, her hand steadier now as she stares at the counter. “It started coming back in little pieces. Brief flashes at first—the sound of heels on tile, the smell of the chlorine in the pool. You…”
“When?” I step closer, needing to know. “When did it come back fully?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She meets my eyes unflinchingly. “What matters is that I remembered us. You and me.”
“Jesus, Amara.” I run my hands through my hair. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I needed to know who tried to kill me.” Her voice hardens. “And I’m still not sure who I can trust.”
I take a step toward her, my heart pounding. “Amara, you can trust me. Whatever you think you know—”
“I want to,” she interrupts, her voice cracking. “But I remember things now. I wrote in my diary that your brother is Detective Miles and you were asking me weird questions.”
“I was not.”
“You did and then I found out that your brother headed the raid.”
The accusation is there, and it stings, but I can’t blame her. I reach for her hand, but she pulls away.
“Is that what you think? That I was using you to get information for Jack?” I shake my head, desperate for her to see my side. “My brother and I barely speak. We haven’t been close since my wife died.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for deception. “Was it just a coincidence?”
“Listen to me,” I continue, lowering my voice.
“Jack told me something was happening at the club that night. He warned me to stay away, but I told him I never went there. But I promise I never knew you were going. I only knew because he confronted me afterward, wanting to know if I knew anything about Dom’s business. I told him nothing.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I want you.” The words escape before I can stop them. “I know it’s wrong. I know the age difference is—”
“I don’t care about that,” she whispers. “I only care that you didn’t do this to me.” She touches her face with her fingertips.
“Dom is my best friend, but you...” I swallow hard. “You’re everything to me. If I were working with Jack, why would I have kept our relationship secret? Why wouldn’t I have used that to get closer to Dom? I don’t want to know about his business, Amara. I like my peaceful life.”
Something shifts in her eyes. She steps closer, allowing me to take her hand.
“I believe you.” She touches above her heart with her free hand.
“You do? Thank fuck!”
“Because I was being blackmailed,” she admits quietly. “Before someone tried to kill me, they were contacting me through the Pampered Princess website.”
My stomach clenches at the mention of the website. “What did they want?”
“Information on Dom. About what was happening at Angels and Sinners that night.” She looks up at me, her blue eyes swimming with tears. “I think whoever was blackmailing me is the same person who tried to kill me.”
I squeeze her hand, pulling her closer. “Then it’s time for us to figure out who it is. Together.”
“Okay.”
I search Amara’s face, trying to piece together what she remembers. The fact she’s kept her returning memories hidden shows how little she trusts anyone right now—even me. Despite what she says.
“Do you have any suspects?” I ask, keeping my voice low despite the empty house. “Anyone who might want to hurt you? Or anyone acting strange before the accident?”
She fidgets with the handle of the cup. “Con threatened me that night at the club. Right before everything happened.”
“Mateo Conti?” My jaw clenches. I don’t mention that Dom also has Con at the top of his list. “What did he say?”
“He said if I didn’t keep my mouth shut, he’d shut it permanently.” She shudders at the memory. “He was furious, cornered me near the bathrooms.”
“Fucking mafia bastards,” I hiss, unable to contain my disgust. “They think they can do whatever they want.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. “Obviously, I just told you that you were on my list of suspects, too. Because of your brother.”
I can’t blame her. “Jack and I may share DNA, but that’s about it these days.”
She lowers her head and glances at the floor, then lifts it slowly. “But there’s something else. Mayor Anderson wasn’t one of my clients on Pampered Princess, but my blackmailer only ever used pictures of me with him against me.”
My blood runs cold. Another of Dom’s suspects. Amara is getting too close. I try to keep my voice steady. “Anderson? What exactly did you do with him?”
“Honestly, it was just lunch,” she says quickly. “Nothing else. It was strange, actually. Mom knows him and she organized for me to meet him to discuss getting into politics. It was an innocent lunch, but there are pictures of him talking to me and touching my back and it looks...”
“Like you’re together?” I frown.
Amara’s shoulders lift with a sigh. “Yes! And he mentioned the Pampered Princess website out of the blue like he’s been secretly watching me on the website…” She pauses, brow furrowing.
“If he knew you were on the website, he could be your blackmailer. Did he try anything with you?”
“No. I honestly never so much as kissed him. He never tried to be honest with you. But he was very touchy-feely when he walked me to my car. Different from how he acted inside the restaurant.”
“In the restaurant, he wouldn’t want attention,” I explain. “Public figure and all that.”
“Just so you know, apart from you, I’ve never met up with anyone from the website. I never wanted that kind of…” She swallows. “You know what I mean.”
I nod lightly as I take a deep breath, trying to process everything. “Let’s go back to Mateo Conti. How did you upset him?”
She bites her lip. “I found him in a compromising position with another mafia heir. Enzo Bianchi.”
I let out a low whistle. “No wonder he was threatening you. That kind of information could destroy his reputation in their circles. But let Dom deal with the mafia.”
I take the cup from Amara’s hands, setting it on the counter next to my glass. My heart pounds in my chest as I cup her face between my palms, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.
“I’m ready to tell Poppy about us…about everything.”
The weight that’s been pressing on my chest for months lifts slightly as the words leave my mouth. I’ve been terrified of this moment—telling my daughter I’m in love with her best friend—but seeing Amara now, remembering how close I came to losing her, I can’t keep hiding what we have.
Those mesmerizing azure eyes light up and a smile spreads across her face. “Really?”
“Really. No more secrets.”
I lean in and press my lips against hers, savoring the moment. She tastes like vodka and lime; I like it, and I deepen the kiss, letting myself forget everything else for just a moment.
When we break apart, her eyes dart upward to the corner of the room. Her smile fades.
“We’re being watched,” she whispers, nodding toward a small camera mounted in the ceiling corner.
I follow her gaze and see the black dome of one of Dom’s security cameras. Of course. The house is wired from top to bottom. I should have remembered.
“I don’t care,” I say, kissing her again. Let Dom see. Let the universe see.
Amara stares into my eyes, then deliberately turns her back to the camera. She takes a deep breath, like she’s about to tell me something important when the door swings open.
Dom stands in the doorway, his suit jacket gone, tie loosened. His eyes flick between us, taking in our proximity, the way my hands still linger near Amara’s face.
His expression reveals nothing.
He walks to the counter, picks up the bottle of Macallan, and pours himself a generous measure.
He downs half the glass in one swallow as I look from him to Amara.
“What happened?” Amara asks, nudging away from me.
Dom looks at her, his blue eyes tired. “I was arrested for Helena’s murder. When I was leaving the wake.”
Amara gasps. “What? How could they—”
“My lawyer got me off,” Dom interrupts, finishing his drink. “They have no evidence. Just suspicion and opportunity.”