As Vaughn explained the rules of the game, Amara’s gaze flickered back to Vincent. His voice had dropped further, making it impossible for her to make out any words, but the way he pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced at her from the corner of his eye told her enough. Something was wrong.
Her stomach twisted with dread. Was this about Alessandro? About what had happened in Venice? Or was it something worse? Her father rarely looked that concerned, and it made her pulse quicken with fear.
“Mommy, your turn!” Vaughn’s voice broke through again, snapping her out of her thoughts.
She smiled at him, trying to mask her worry. “Sorry, sweetheart. Let’s play.”
But as they continued the game, her mind remained in two places.. one with Vaughn, and the other firmly fixed on Vincent, who had yet to put down his phone.
Whatever storm was coming, she knew it was only a matter of time before it reached them all.
As Vincent ended his call, his expression softened slightly, though there was still a tension in his eyes that didn’t go unnoticed by Amara. She approached him cautiously, her hands folding nervously in front of her.
“Is everything alright, Dad?” she asked, her voice calm but probing.
Vincent looked at her, his face unreadable for a moment, and then he nodded. “Things are fine, just some delay in the latest shipment. Nothing to worry about.”
Amara raised an eyebrow. She knew her father well enough to recognize when something was wrong, but also knew he wouldn’t tell her even if she asked a hundred times. If he wanted her to know, he’d tell her in his own time. For now, there was no use in pressing him further.
“Alright,” she replied, though her concern lingered beneath the surface.
As she turned away, her thoughts weighed heavy. Her father was a man of secrets, always shielding her from the darker dealings of his business, and this delay in the shipment? It felt like more than just logistics. But he wouldn’t tell her anything more, not until he deemed it necessary.
The following week passed in a strange haze. Alessandro made it a point to visit the Moretti mansion every evening, sharing dinner with the family and attempting, albeit clumsily, to converse with Amara.
His efforts were transparent…
He was trying to mend things between them, to regain her favor after the disaster in Venice.
But Amara remained distant, her defenses high, and Alessandro’s smooth words did little to ease the tension.
He would sit across from her at dinner, watching her with a careful gaze, but Amara rarely met his eyes.
Every conversation felt like a chess game, each move calculated and restrained.
Alessandro was trying, but Amara wasn’t ready to forgive or forget.
Not yet.
Two days before her birthday, they sat under a large oak tree in the Moretti estate’s vast garden, the sun hanging lazily in the afternoon sky.
The air was warm, but the atmosphere between them remained cold. Alessandro leaned against the tree trunk, his eyes on Amara, who sat on a nearby bench, flipping through a book absentmindedly.
After a long pause, he finally broke the silence. “What do you want for your birthday?”
Amara didn’t look up from her book. “If I tell you what to get me, what’s the point? A gift is supposed to be thoughtful, not something I have to dictate.”
Alessandro nodded, though her words stung more than he let on. He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing softly. “I just want to know what you like, so I can get it right. I don’t want to disappoint you.”
This time, Amara did look at him, but her expression was distant, as if she was searching for the right words.
She stood up, letting the book fall closed on the bench. “Figure it out yourself,” she said coolly before walking away, her voice drifting behind her like a breeze.
Alessandro watched her go, a feeling of helplessness creeping over him.
No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he said or did, she kept him at arm’s length. He had the power and wealth to charm any woman in the world, yet the one person he truly wanted to win over seemed impossible to reach.
He had messed up in Venice, and now she wouldn’t let him forget it.
After a while, Alessandro made his way to the spot where Nick and Lucas stood.
They were both engrossed in a conversation by the patio. They paused as they saw him approaching, a polite but guarded look passing between them.
“Am I interrupting something?” Alessandro asked, his voice laced with mild irritation.
Nick shook his head. “Not at all, Mr. Romano. What can we do for you?”
Alessandro stood before them, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glanced towards the direction Amara had gone. He let out a slow breath, trying to maintain his composure. “I need your help. Can you tell me what Amara likes? I mean, there must be something, right? Something she wants but doesn’t have.”
Nick and Lucas exchanged a look, one of those silent conversations that seemed to carry more meaning than words. After a moment, Nick cleared his throat and gave Alessandro a measured glance. “With all due respect, Mr. Romano, Miss Amara… she already has everything she likes. It’s not about material things with her.”
Lucas nodded in agreement. “She’s not the type to be swayed by gifts, sir. If you’re looking for a way to win her over, I don’t think you’ll find it in a store.”
Alessandro clenched his jaw, his frustration deepening. He had been trying to figure out the right way to approach Amara, but every path felt like a dead end. This wasn’t about wealth or status… he knew that much… but what was it about, then? What did she want from him? If not gifts, if not gestures of power or influence, then what?
For a man who had always been in control, always able to get what he wanted, this was a new and maddening experience. He had never encountered a woman like Amara before… someone who refused to play by the rules, who wasn’t impressed by his usual charms. And it infuriated him.
“Fine,” Alessandro muttered, his tone sharp. “I’ll figure it out.”
He turned on his heel and walked away, his mind racing with frustration.