Page 35 of Wicked Truths
Dom grins. “It can be arranged.”
9
Amara
I hear my motherstorming up the stairs. I know it’s her because she refuses to take off her heels on purpose. She knows the sound clicks angrily against the marble. She knows it drives Dom insane.
Now the sounds have disappeared as she walks over the plush carpet of the hallway to her room.
She’s never shared a room with Dom. I’ve always found that strange because she and my father shared everything—every moment, every secret. I suppose not all marriages are the same.
But are they married?
I remember him goading her, telling her she was nothing more than a mistress. Does that mean he has someone else? And why did he trick her into a blessing and not a marriage?
Or did Dom trick her? Did she know?
The thought rolls around in my head like an unwanted guest. Why would he do that?
A door slams somewhere in the house.
I need to focus. Forget about Helena and Dom. I have to. My deadline is so close now, and I have to send that message to SweetJustice today.
My heart hammers against my chest.
The days and now hours have slipped away faster than sand through fingers.
Only the idea of going out with Milly, her friends, and Poppy tonight warms me. I so need it, the promise of freedom for one night, even if it’s wrapped in laughter and booze.
I smile to myself as I picture all of us getting so drunk. I’m planning to get so hammered that I can’t walk straight and blissfully forget everything for just one night.
I sit at my dressing table, heart pounding as I log into the Pampered Princess website, keeping myself incognito.
Please don’t let him be online.
My breath catches when I see his username isn’t listed on the panel. A flicker of relief washes over me as I type out a message to his profile.
“There’s a mafia meeting at Angels and Sinners on Saturday night. Timeis unknown. Participantsare unknown. I’msorry,this is as much as I could find out for you.”
I hit send and lean back in my chair, feeling an ache settle in my chest as uncertainty creeps back in like smoke filling a room. I have no choice but to deliver it, yet somehow it feels with each word I typed out that I’m plunging the knife into my own back.
I wish I knew who this person was, and if this information was enough for what they need to do—but all I can do is hope.
A flicker of guilt twists in my gut as I glance at the tennis bracelet Dom bought me for my eighteenth birthday. I love the bracelet and I wear it every day. It’s a reminder of Dom’s kindness. And I hate that I’ve tried to sell it, but the pawnbroker only offered me five grand for the bracelet. I thought he would offer me enough money to run away and live in a foreign place for a year. But five grand—a pathetic sum compared to its worth.
I am desperate. I need for my situation to go away.
I twist my wrist, watching the diamonds glinting under the dim light of my room.
I hate that I’ll still have to sell it one day. Not yet though; not until the time is right. I tuck that thought away for now as I jump off the bed and pull the chair to the center of my room. Climb on top and quickly unscrew the loose air-con panel and grab my diary from where I hide it.
After throwing the diary onto my bed, I replace the panel in case someone comes into my room.
Then I grab a pen and flip to a fresh page in my diary.
I can’t write Caleb’s name down on paper. I never do, I can’t take the risk that my diary will be found. I write about him often, but that’s because he occupies my mind like a stubborn weed.
There’s something about him that makes me feel alive.I write.He makes me laugh, and his eyes…they spark something in me I didn’t know was missing.
