His reaction was visceral. A mix of emotions coursed through him-surprise, desire, and an undeniable anger born of jealousy and protectiveness. He clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched her. The way she carried herself, the subtle confidence in her step, only made her more captivating.
As he continued to watch her, he saw Harvey lean in, whispering something that made Amara smile. The sight of her smiling, even at his own brother, stirred a possessive impulse in Rowan. He descended the remaining steps with a newfound resolve, his eyes never leaving her.
When he finally reached the bottom, he moved through the crowd with purpose, making his way towards her. The guests parted slightly, sensing his presence, their conversations momentarily pausing as he passed. Rowan’s focus was unyielding, his thoughts consumed by the woman who had unexpectedly become the center of his world.
As he approached, he saw Amara glance up, her eyes meeting his. There was a flicker of tension in her gaze, followed by a complex mix of emotions that mirrored his own. For a moment, they were both silent, the air between them charged with unspoken words and unresolved tension.
“Crimson,” he said, his voice low and controlled, yet tinged with the intensity of his feelings. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
Her response was equally measured, though her eyes betrayed a hint of the turmoil within her. “Rowan,” she replied, her tone steady. “It’s a family gathering. Harvey invited me.”
Rowan nodded slowly, his gaze never wavering from hers. “Welcome home.”
Amara raised her brows slightly at the word ‘home,’ a hint of curiosity flickering in her eyes, but she brushed it off. Harvey, oblivious to the subtle tension between them, smiled and took her arm gently.
“Come, Amara,” Harvey said cheerfully, “let me introduce you to everyone.”
He led her through the elegantly decorated halls, past guests dressed in their finest attire, and finally to a grand sitting room where Sophia Falcone, the matriarch, was seated. The room was filled with the core members of the Falcone family, each with an air of authority and distinction. Harvey introduced her simply as “Amara,” omitting her last name, knowing the enmity between their families.
“Everyone, this is Amara,” Harvey said with a warm smile, intentionally leaving out her surname.
Amara stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over the room as she greeted each family member with a polite nod. The Falcones’ responses were courteous but distant, reflecting their wariness of outsiders. She noted the subtle glances exchanged among them, but she remained composed.
Sophia Falcone, an elegant woman with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, regarded Amara with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Despite this, Amara approached her with a warm smile and presented a small, ornately wrapped box.
“Mrs. Falcone,” Amara began, her voice steady and respectful, “I wanted to give you this as a token of my appreciation for allowing me to be part of your celebration.”
Sophia’s eyes softened slightly as she accepted the box. Upon opening it, she revealed a delicate pearl bracelet. A faint smile graced her lips.
“Thank you, Amara,” Sophia said, her tone gracious. “This is lovely.”
“You’re very welcome,” Amara replied, relieved that the gift had been well-received.
Just then, a friend of Harvey’s called him over. Seeing an opportunity, Rowan stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Amara.
“Allow me to show you around, Amara,” Rowan offered, his voice smooth and authoritative.
Amara hesitated for a moment, sensing the intensity behind Rowan’s offer. But she nodded, intrigued by the chance to explore the estate and perhaps learn more about the Falcones’ stronghold.
Rowan led her through the expansive estate, pointing out various historical artifacts, paintings, and architectural marvels. His tone was informative, but Amara could sense an underlying tension. He was watching her closely, assessing her reactions, and she knew he was trying to gauge her true intentions.
As they walked, Amara couldn’t help but admire the grandeur of the estate. The halls were adorned with intricate tapestries and marble statues, each piece telling a story of the family’s long and illustrious history. She made mental notes of the layout, noting the strategic placement of security cameras and the discreet presence of guards.
Rowan continued the tour. They passed by a grand dining hall, a luxurious ballroom, and several sitting rooms, each more opulent than the last.
They continued their tour in silence, the tension between them palpable. As they moved through the estate, Amara’s mind was racing. She needed to gather information, but she also had to be cautious. Any misstep could jeopardize her mission.
Eventually, they found themselves in a beautiful garden, the night air cool and fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers. Rowan stopped by a marble fountain, the water cascading gently over the stone.
“This is one of my favorite places,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “It’s peaceful here.”
Amara looked around, taking in the serene beauty of the garden. “It is lovely,” she admitted.
Rowan turned to face her, his expression unreadable. “Amara, whatever your reasons for being here, I hope you understand the risks.”
“I do,” she replied, meeting his gaze steadily. “And I appreciate your concern, Rowan.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes lingering on her face. “Just be careful.”
With that, he led her back inside, the tour coming to an end. As they rejoined the main gathering, Amara couldn’t shake the feeling that Rowan knew more than he was letting on. She would have to tread carefully, but she was determined to succeed.
The evening continued with more introductions and mingling. Amara kept her guard up, her senses attuned to any potential threats or opportunities. She engaged in polite conversation, always careful to avoid revealing too much about herself.
At one point, she found herself speaking with Isabelle Falcone, Rowan and Harvey’s mother. Isabelle was a striking woman with an air of elegance and authority. Her sharp eyes seemed to see right through Amara, and their conversation was polite but guarded.
“So, Amara,” Isabelle began, her tone measured, “how do you know my sons?”
“Harvey and I met at bar,” Amara replied smoothly. “He’s been very kind to invite me here tonight.”
Isabelle’s gaze was piercing. “And Rowan?”
Amara hesitated for a fraction of a second. “We’ve crossed paths a few times. He’s always been very… direct.”
Isabelle raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “Yes, that sounds like Rowan.”
Their conversation was cut short by the arrival of Sophia Falcone, who called for everyone’s attention. The room fell silent as she stood to address her guests.
“I want to thank each and every one of you for being here tonight,” Sophia began, her voice strong and clear. “This family means everything to me, and I am grateful to have you all by my side.”