She tilts her head back slightly, looking surprised by my directness. “I am interested in you! About what you do.”
“I’m your stepfather, Amara.”
“Apparently you’re not.” Her legs tighten around my waist, and if it wasn’t for the fabric between us, I would be balls deep in her right now. “What went on with you and Helena? How come you were never married?”
Her directness surprises me and sends a jolt of interest in me.
“It’ll all come out in the end—the why.”
Her nod carries a hint of understanding. “You offered her three million. I’m surprised she wants more.”
“I just upped it to five million, yet she still wants more.”
“Wow.”
“Exactly,” I say through clenched teeth as I try to hold myself together. I can’t have Amara getting the upper hand in this situation. “Can you find out what she’ll settle for?”
“Twenty-five million is what she told me.” She grinds over my cock.
I glance to where we almost meet and hiss through clenched teeth. “I advise you to unwrap those gorgeous legs or I will fuck you in this pool.”
Her eyes land on mine. A hint of defiance in her steely gaze. “Do it.”
I laugh—a bitter sound filled with disbelief. “No fucking way.” My expression turns serious again as I hold her gaze steady, pretending what is happening to my cock is natural. It would happen to anyone. “So please find out what Helena wants. It’ll save anything unfortunate happening to her.”
Amara’s eyes widen at that suggestion. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. And another thing, Amara. Have you let Caleb touch you?” The question slips from my lips before I can stop it.
She gasps at my boldness and presses back against me slightly—an involuntary reaction or an invitation? Then,like she knows, she loosens her grip, dropping her legs into the pool.
“No.”
“I want the truth. I can find out everything.”
Her eyes lock on mine. “If I say yes,” she challenges breathlessly, “will you hurt him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
This fucking girl. “Why do you think?”
She bites her bottom lip as she thinks about her answer, and then she smiles. “Because you want me?”
13
Caleb
“Is Poppy home?” Amarasteps into my house, her voice tinged with anxiety.
“She's in a private dance lesson. Took my car so she’ll not be home for two hours,” I reply, locking the door behind her.
Amara fidgets, her fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress.
“And she’s going to her aunt’s around six. Can you come back here at seven?”
Concern creases her brow as she shakes her head. “I can’t.”
