Rowan still insisted, “I definitely want to see your work.”
Amara glanced at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Well, you are not bad yourself at painting.”
Rowan’s curiosity was piqued. “When did you see my work?”
“At your grandma’s birthday, remember? You gifted her the portrait you painted yourself,” Amara said softly.
“Oh, right,” Rowan said, the memory coming back to him.
“I couldn’t believe you draw so well,” Amara admitted, her tone carrying a hint of admiration.
“Well, I do,” Rowan said, a confident smile spreading across his face. “How about I make your portrait?”
Amara shook her head. “There’s no need.”
Rowan nodded, accepting her decision. “Alright, if you say so.”
Amara raised an eyebrow, mocking him she said. “I didn’t know you could back down so easily.”
Rowan leaned closer, his breath warm against her neck. “Do you want me to insist more, Crimson?”
Amara felt a shiver run down her spine at the intimacy of his words. “No,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rowan chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent another wave of warmth through her. “Okay then, I won’t insist.”
Amara didn’t look at him again, focusing instead on the food in front of her. She tried to ignore the fluttering in her chest, the way her heart seemed to race whenever he was near. It was distracting, this pull she felt towards him, and she needed to stay focused.
The evening continued in a comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts. Amara couldn’t help but think back to the portrait Rowan had given his grandmother. It had been a beautiful piece, capturing not just the likeness but the spirit of the elderly woman. It had surprised her to see such talent in Rowan, a side of him she hadn’t known existed.
Rowan, on the other hand, watched Amara with a mix of amusement and admiration. He liked this side of her, the way she could be both strong and gentle, confident yet humble. He found himself wanting to know more about her, to peel back the layers and see the woman beneath.
“Amara,” he said finally, breaking the silence.
She looked up, her gaze cold and guarded. “What?”
“Do you ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t a mafia heiress?”
Amara’s eyes narrowed. “No. This is my life, like it or not.”
“I get that,” Rowan said, nodding. “But humor me. If you had to choose something else, what would it be?”
Amara sighed, her expression softening slightly, but she shook her head.
At the Romano residence, the atmosphere was tense. Victor Romano sat behind a large mahogany desk, his fingers steepled as he stared at his son, Alessandro. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, casting long shadows that seemed to accentuate the seriousness of the conversation.
Victor’s face was etched with concern as he asked, “Are you going on dates with Amara recently?”
Alessandro looked at his father with a mix of irritation and resignation. “Dad, she’s busy with her brother’s wedding preparations. It’s not exactly a great time to be pushing for dates.”
Victor’s expression darkened, and he let out a frustrated sigh as he rubbed his temples. “Try to spend more time with her. The Morettis are our only powerful allies right now, and we need to strengthen our relationship with them.”
Alessandro’s gaze hardened. “Why? What’s going on?”
Victor’s expression darkened. “He said he got a better deal elsewhere and refused to elaborate. I suspect it’s the Falcone family interfering again.”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened. “Dad, we should confront Rowan. We can’t let him push us around like this.”
Victor shook his head, his face a mask of frustration. “I said focus on Amara. I will handle the rest.”
Alessandro’s frustration was palpable. “But if Rowan keeps sabotaging our deals, it will affect our business. We need to take action.”
Victor’s eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and resignation. “Focus on Amara. She’s in a delicate situation with her brother’s wedding, and we can’t afford to push her away. I will deal with Rowan and the Falcones. You do your part.”
Alessandro nodded, a reluctant acceptance in his eyes. “Fine. I will visit her tomorrow.”
“Good,” Victor said, relieved that his son was at least complying with his wishes.
As Alessandro walked to the balcony, he felt a surge of irritation. The evening air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees below. He leaned against the railing, staring out into the dusky horizon. His mind raced with thoughts of Rowan Falcone and the continuous interference in their business dealings.
The Falcone family was a formidable rival, and Rowan, their leader, seemed to take a particular pleasure in making life difficult for the Romanos. Alessandro had tried to avoid direct confrontation, but Rowan’s persistent meddling was becoming a serious issue. If Rowan had indeed been behind the recent loss of their trading partner, then it was clear that the Falcone family was stepping up their efforts against them.
Alessandro’s thoughts turned to Amara Moretti. His father’s orders were clear: build a stronger relationship with her. It wasn’t just about personal gain but also about maintaining their strategic alliances. The Morettis were crucial to the Romano family’s interests, and strengthening his connection with Amara was a necessary part of the strategy.
Yet, the reality of their situation was far from straightforward. Amara was busy with her brother’s wedding, a significant event that demanded her full attention. Alessandro’s attempts to get closer to her had been met with polite but distant responses. She was clearly preoccupied, and the last thing he wanted was to come off as an opportunistic suitor while she was dealing with family matters.
Leaning against the balcony, Alessandro reflected on Rowan’s behavior. The Falcone family had always been a thorn in their side, but Rowan’s recent actions suggested a deeper, more personal vendetta. Rowan seemed to be making every effort to disrupt their business and undermine their position. Alessandro couldn’t help but wonder what Rowan’s ultimate goal was. Was it merely business rivalry, or was there something more personal behind his actions?
If Rowan wanted a fight, Alessandro was more than prepared to give him one. Since Rowan had started this game of sabotage, he shouldn’t blame Alessandro for what would happen next.
As they finished dinner, Amara dabbed her lips with a napkin, her mind already drifting to the myriad of tasks awaiting her back home.
Rowan leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on Amara. “How about I drive you home?” he offered, his voice smooth and confident.
Amara shook her head, her expression firm. “No thanks, I drove my car here.”
A mischievous glint appeared in Rowan’s eyes as he leaned forward slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Then how about you drive me home?”
Amara looked at him speechlessly, taken aback by his audacity. “No.”
Rowan sighed, shrugging. “Fine.”
As Amara left the restaurant and walked to her car, she couldn’t shake off the unease she felt. She got into her car and started the engine, determined to put the evening behind her. However, as she drove through the city streets, she noticed in her rearview mirror a familiar car following her closely. She glanced at it and saw it was Rowan’s car.
Her annoyance flared. She picked up her phone and called him, irritation clear in her voice. “What are you doing?”
Rowan’s voice came through the line, calm and unbothered. “I’m driving.”
“You’re following me,” Amara stated, trying to keep her frustration in check.
“Just making sure you reach home safe,” Rowan replied smoothly.
Amara gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white. “You don’t need to do that. I can take care of myself.”
“Don’t worry, I’m here,” Rowan insisted, his tone light, as if he were doing her a favor.
Amara shook her head, realizing it was futile to argue with him. He had made up his mind, and there was no convincing him otherwise. She sighed, resigned to the situation. “Fine, suit yourself.”
As she continued driving, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of irritation and unease. Rowan’s persistence was both infuriating and unsettling. Despite her irritation, there was a part of her that couldn’t entirely dismiss the sense of security his presence provided, though she hated to admit it.