Page 96 of Wicked Truths
There’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Dom says, his voice controlled despite our heated exchange.
The door creaks open and Amara steps inside. My heart lurches at the sight of her, her dark hair falling around her shoulders, her blue eyes darting between Dom and me. She senses the tension; I can tell by the way she hesitates in the doorway.
“Mom is here,” she announces, crossing her arms over her chest. “She’s in the living room drinking your best wine. At least that’s what she said when she opened it.”
“Who the fuck let her in?” Dom growls, pushing his chair back with enough force that it nearly topples over. His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck tightening visibly.
“Sorry, that was me. I didn’t know I shouldn’t.”
I reach out and take Amara’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Don’t worry about it. You couldn’t have known.”
Dom’s face darkens as I turn to face him, positioning myself slightly in front of Amara. “It’s not her fault, Dom. Cut her some slack.”
Amara’s fingers tighten around mine, and I can feel her gratitude without the need to look at her.
“I know it’s not her fault,” Dom snaps. “I’m not blaming her.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, sighing heavily. “She can barely remember her own name right now.”
I glance back at Amara, catching the way her face falls at his words. The confidence that had been building drains away, replaced by that lost look I hate.
“Hey.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close enough that I can smell the jasmine in her hair. “Don’t mind him. Dom’s always been a grumpy bastard. Even before you hit your head.”
A small laugh escapes her lips, and the sound warms something inside me. God, I’ve missed that laugh.
“I’m not grumpy,” Dom growls, but there’s no actual heat behind it. “I’m protective. There’s a difference.” He steps forward, and for a moment I tense, but he only pressesa quick kiss to the top of Amara’s head. “Stay here with the professor while I deal with your mother.”
Amara blinks up at him, clearly surprised by the affectionate gesture. I’m equally shocked—Dom has never been one for physical displays of affection, especially not in front of others.
Before leaving, Dom turns to me, his blue eyes sharp as steel. A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. “Say nothing to her you’ll regret.”
The challenge in his voice is unmistakable. He’s testing me, seeing if I’ll behave myself now that we’re alone.
Two can play at that game.
“Don’t worry,” I say, keeping my arm firmly around Amara’s shoulders. “I’ll just remind her about that night on the beach when she told me she never felt safe until she met me.”
Dom’s jaw clenches so hard I swear I can hear his teeth grinding. “You son of a bitch,” he mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.
I watch Dom leave, his broad shoulders tense with irritation. When the door clicks shut behind him, I exhale slowly.
Amara pulls away slightly, looking up at me with those blue eyes that have haunted my dreams for months.
“Did I really say that?” she asks, her voice soft. “About feeling safe with you?”
My heart skips. “You did. You were there with your friends. It was late, and I sat beside you while Poppy played volleyball with some boys.”
She touches her temple gently, a habit she’s developed since the accident. “So I must have liked you before this.” She taps her head again.
I guide her to the leather sofa against the wall, sitting close enough to feel her warmth but not so close to make her uncomfortable.
“We were...close,” I admit, choosing my words carefully. “It was complicated, but it was real.”
She smiles, and for a moment, I see a flash of the old Amara. “I must have good taste.”
I laugh, the tension draining from my shoulders. “The best.”
She laughs, and the sound is like music. But I know I’m treading on dangerous ground. Talking to her in Dom’s office isn’t wise.
