Page 94 of Wicked Truths
“Professor Miles,” he says, opening the door.
Inside, I find Amara curled up on the sofa, a book open on her lap. My heart stutters at the sight of her. She looks up, her eyes widening slightly.
“Caleb,” she says, and for a moment, I let myself believe there’s recognition in her voice.
“Hello, Amara.” I keep my voice steady, professional. “I’ve brought some materials I think might help with your recovery.”
She closes her book. “I thought it was just a time thing?”
“Perhaps, but I thought you could try something different.” I sit across from her, careful to maintain distance. This is still Dom’s domain, despite him agreeing that I could discuss this with her. “I think we should get you back to your studies. Routine can be powerful for memory recovery.”
“You think university work will help me remember?” She tilts her head, considering.
“The familiar challenges might trigger connections.” I pull out the papers. “I’ve spoken with your professors. They’re willing to work with you.”
Her fingers brush mine as she takes the papers, and I fight the urge to hold her hand.
“Is this what I was studying before?” she asks, flipping through the pages and reading some passages. “I suppose I never lost the ability to read. Maybe it’ll come back.”
Hope flares in my chest. “That’s excellent, Amara. You just have to have an open mind.”
She looks up suddenly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Have you ever seen me in a costume? I mean…did Poppy and I ever go to a party together with me wearing a mask with bunny ears?”
My breath catches. “Bunny ears?”
“Never mind.” She shakes her head, but her gaze lingers on me, searching.
Dom’s footsteps announce his arrival before he appears in the doorway. He nods at me, then sits beside Amara. Very closely. A little too close for my comfort.
“What’s this about?” he asks, his hand resting possessively on the sofa behind her.
“Professor Miles thinks I should return to my studies,” Amara explains.
I clear my throat. “It’s like I told you. Structure and routine will help, Dom. If she starts remembering everything—”
“When,” Dom interrupts, his eyes cold, “not if.”
“Excuse me.” Amara sets the papers aside and excuses herself to get some water. The moment she’s out of earshot, I turn to Dom.
“Could we speak privately?”
Dom studies me for a moment, then nods. “My office.”
I follow him down the hallway, my shoes heavy against the marble floor. His office is exactly what you’d expect—imposing mahogany desk, leather chairs, the smell of books and a view of the ocean. He is all extravagance and dirty money. The suits he wears probably cost more than my annual salary.
He can give Amara so much more than I can.
“Whiskey?” Dom asks, already reaching for a crystal decanter.
“Please.”
He pours two glasses, hands me one, and settles into his chair. I remain standing, taking a sip to steady my nerves.
“We need to help her together, Dom,” I say, meeting his gaze. “This territorial bullshit isn’t going to do her any good.”
Dom’s jaw tightens. “How far along was your relationship with my stepdaughter, Professor?” He exaggerates my profession rather than using my name. I know he is letting me know I’m treading on slippery ground.
He wouldn’t?
