CHAPTER 11
Amara’s POV
“No, he didn’t,” I replied evenly,
glancing at Matteo. His expression
remained neutral, though his jaw tightened. slightly.
Bethany seemed to relish in her role as the storyteller as her voice dripped with nostalgia. “Oh, it was hilarious. He got caught, of course, but somehow he charmed his way out of it. My father was furious, but Matteo… well, he always had a way of getting what he wanted.”
I sipped my coffee, letting the warmth calm me. I reminded myself that this
arrangement with Matteo was
nonpermanent. Whatever past he shared with Bethany – or present, for that matter – was none of my business. Once the plan was executed and the Obsidian Syndicate was dismantled, I would be free to go.
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But still…
Bethany’s casual touches, the way her hand brushed against Matteo’s arm when she laughed, or the way she leaned in slightly when she spoke to him, made my stomach lurk in a way I could not quite explain.
“So, how are you finding things here, Amara?” Bethany asked.
“It’s fine,” I replied shortly.
Bethany tilted her head, studying me with a look that was almost pitying. “It must be overwhelming, stepping into a new family like this. I mean, it’s not easy being with Matteo. He has… expectations.”
I stiffened but kept my expression calm. “I can handle it.”
“Of course,” she said smoothly, though her smile suggested otherwise. “But if you ever need advice, I’m always around. Matteo and I have been through so much together, haven’t we?”
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She turned to him, her gaze softening. Matteo’s eyes flicked to mine for a brief second before he answered, “Bethany‘ s been part of this life longer than most.”
I nodded, forcing a polite smile.
“That‘ s… comforting to know.”
The rest of breakfast passed in a blur of half heard anecdotes and polite nods. I kept my responses short, focusing only on the cup of coffee in front of me.
As soon as the meal ended, I excused myself and Bethany’s laughter followed me out of the room, but I did not look back.
Once outside, I leaned against the cool stone wall, taking a deep breath. But after a moment, the sound of approaching
footsteps made me turn to see Matteo.
“Amara,” he called.
“Did you need something?” I asked.
He stepped closer, his eyes focused on
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mine. “We need to talk.”
“About?”
“What you can bring to the table to take down The Obsidian.”
Of course, business as usual.
But I wasn’t complaining, since this was the arrangement after all.
