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 Ideepen 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.”
