She glanced toward her closet, remembering how Rowan had made the same request before. Father and son were more alike than she’d care to admit. Shaking her head, she made her way to the closet, unsure of what to wear.
“Baby, come here,” she called to Vaughn.
Vaughn scurried over, curiosity in his wide eyes. “What, Mommy?”
Amara opened the closet, revealing an array of red dresses. “You pick the dress.”
His eyes scanned the dresses carefully before landing on a crimson red, flowy dress. “This one!” he declared.
Amara smiled, picking the dress. “Good choice.” She went to shower and got ready, applying light makeup and styling her hair. Afterward, she walked downstairs hand in hand with Vaughn, her heart lighter than it had been in days.
As they entered the dining room, Isabelle greeted her with a beaming smile. “Happy birthday, baby. You look beautiful today.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Amara replied softly.
Vincent joined in with his usual calm demeanor, “Happy birthday, Amara.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for her family.
Isabelle gestured to the table. “We were waiting for you. Let’s have breakfast.”
Amara nodded, guiding Vaughn to the dining table. When she saw it, her heart melted even further… the table was beautifully decorated, and it was filled with all her favorite dishes. Her eyes softened as she looked at Vaughn, who beamed with pride.
She bent down, patting his head and kissing his forehead. “Thank you, baby. You did all this?”
Isabelle smiled knowingly. “He’s a smart one. He made me help him with the dishes and everything in the kitchen.”
Amara felt a lump in her throat, grateful beyond words for both her mother and her son. “Thank you, Mom,” she whispered.
Isabelle smiled back warmly. “You deserve it, honey.”
After breakfast, Amara glanced at the time… it was almost nine forty-five.
A knot of tension formed in her stomach as she realized it was nearly time. She walked toward her car, slipping into the driver’s seat, and just as she was about to start the engine, her phone buzzed with a new message.
She glanced at the screen, muttering under her breath, “What does he want now?” The message was from Rowan.
‘Wear crimson red today. And here’s the address.’
Her eyes lingered on the text for a moment before she looked down at her dress. Crimson red. A deep, unsettling feeling crept over her, a strange connection clicking into place..
Vaughn had insisted on the same color earlier.
Did they…? No, it was impossible.
There was no way Vaughn and Rowan could have spoken to each other. Still, the coincidence sent a shiver down her spine.
Sighing, Amara started the engine and followed the directions to the location Rowan had sent her. The drive was silent, tension tightening her chest with each passing mile. Soon, she arrived at the address, and what she saw stopped her in her tracks.
Rowan was casually leaning against a sleek, black helicopter, his posture effortlessly confident. Dressed in a black suit with a crisp white shirt and black pants, he looked striking. and then her eyes landed on his tie..
The red tie he wore matched her dress, as if everything had been meticulously planned. His presence was magnetic, and she felt a rush of goosebumps crawl across her skin as her eyes swept over him. He was handsome… too handsome.. and the air around him was charged with something dark, something dangerous.
As she got out of the car and walked toward him, Rowan plucked a single red rose from the seat of the helicopter, his lips curving into a slight smirk. “Happy birthday, Crimson,” he said softly, his voice smooth and low. “You look absolutely gorgeous.”
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Amara instinctively took a step back, her mind racing. The gesture felt too intimate, too personal, and it stirred something in her she wasn’t prepared to deal with.
Rowan chuckled, handing her the rose along with a bouquet he retrieved from behind his back. “This is for you,” he said.
Amara took it, her eyes darting between the rose and his face. “Thank you,” she murmured, unsure of how else to respond.
“Let’s go,” Rowan said, gesturing toward the helicopter.
Amara’s eyes narrowed. “Where are we going?”
His smirk widened. “It’s a surprise.”
A cold suspicion crept through her veins, but she didn’t argue. Not yet. She kept her guard high, her instincts sharp. There was always a possibility that this was a trap, a setup, but she felt strangely secure. She had a gun by her side, her silent protector, and despite everything, a deep, unspoken trust in Rowan simmered beneath the surface. He was unpredictable and dangerous, but she didn’t believe he would harm her… at least not today.
With a quiet nod, she stepped inside the helicopter. The ride was cloaked in silence, the only sounds being the low hum of the rotor blades slicing through the air. Tension lingered between them, unspoken words dancing on the edge of their tongues, but neither broke the silence.
The view below them shifted as they neared their destination, a sprawling private estate perched on the shores of Lake Las Vegas. The helicopter began its descent, and as they touched down, the blades slowly winding down, Amara could feel the air shift. This place was secluded, surrounded by nature, with the glassy surface of the lake shimmering in the distance.
The private property exuded luxury, but there was something isolating about it too… like a beautiful trap.
Rowan helped her out of the helicopter, his touch lingering on her arm for just a moment too long. His dark eyes held hers, filled with something unreadable, a storm she couldn’t quite decipher.
“Do you like it?” he asked, gesturing to the sweeping landscape around them.