Five

Before Amara could say another word, Darius’s hand closed around hers, firm. “We’re leaving. Now,” he said, his voice low, sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Her stomach flipped. “Darius, wait…” she started, but he gave her a look that silenced her completely.

From behind them, Alex stepped forward, a hand raised. “Hey… hold on a second! You can’t just…”

Darius didn’t even turn to face him. His grip on Amara’s hand tightened imperceptibly. “ I advise you to step aside,” he said, voice like ice. “One more word, and you’ll regret it.”

Alex froze, tension flashing across his features.

Darius’s presence alone radiated threat, every inch of him controlled and lethal.

Amara could feel the dangerous energy humming between them, and, she realized how seriously Darius meant what he said.

“I just… let me say goodbye to my friends!” Amara protested, her voice sharper than she intended.

Darius turned his piercing gaze on her, eyes dark, commanding.

She had never felt more simultaneously drawn to and terrified of him. No words were spoken, but the look alone was enough: Don’t you dare.

Amara’s lips pressed into a thin line. She could fight him, argue, make a scene…but she knew the battle was already lost. With a resigned sigh, she let him lead her away, her hand firmly in his.

Alex watched, jaw tight, as they moved through the crowd. Neither Amara nor Darius spoke.. not a word…

Outside, the sleek black car waited, headlights reflecting off the wet pavement.

Darius opened the door for her without a word,

guiding her inside with the same controlled precision he brought to everything he did. Amara slid in, heart still racing,

Darius climbed in after her, shutting the door.

The engine purred to life, and they drove off in silence.

Darius’s fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, and Amara found herself staring. Her stupid hormones were acting up again because even his hands looked perfect. Who had beautiful fingers? Apparently, he did. Everything about him was annoyingly perfect... his dark hazel eyes under sharp brows, his strong jaw, his high cheekbones. He looked like someone carved him out of marble in an Italian museum.

A crazy urge hit her to mess up his hair, just so he would stop looking so flawlessly put together. But she was not suicidal, especially not after what had happened tonight, so she kept her hands glued to her lap.

When they reached the mansion, she quickly unbuckled her seatbelt and was halfway out of the car when Darius grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into the seat. His touch wasn’t cold... not even close. It was hot. Burning. The heat shot straight through her arm and settled low in her stomach.

She swallowed hard. Stupid, stupid hormones.

“What?” she whispered, trying to sound normal.

“You can’t go in like that,” he said, a tiny hint of disapproval pulling at his mouth.

“Like what?” she asked, confused. She was only wearing jeans and a white T-shirt.

Darius tilted his head toward her chest. She looked down... and let out a horrified yelp. The white shirt was wet. Completely see-through. Not a little transparent. Totally transparent. Her red lace bra was on full display... and so were her hard nipples, thanks to the air conditioning.

She threw her arms across her chest, face burning the same red as the bra. “Has it been like this the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“You could’ve told me!”

“I just did. You don’t want your father seeing you like that.”

She wanted to hit him. Even though violence was not her thing.

She dropped her arms without thinking… and his eyes immediately flicked down again.

Her cheeks burned hotter. She was tired of sitting in the car and arguing.

“Instead of being an asshole and staring at my… my breast, can you just lend me your jacket?” she snapped before she could stop herself.

Her eyes widened. Did she really just say breasts to Darius? And call him an asshole?

“God, if you want to strike me with lightning, go ahead,” she muttered inside her head.

Darius’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Trust me, I wasn’t staring at your breasts,” he replied, voice so cold it could freeze the last drops of rain on her skin. “You’re not my type. And even if you were, you’re the Don’s daughter.”

That actually stung. She didn’t want him, but still... no girl liked being dismissed that quickly.

“Whatever. You don’t have to be a jerk,” she muttered. “I'm so tired. Can I just borrow your jacket so I can go inside then we can get out of each other's face.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You didn’t seem tired earlier while sneaking around with boys ” he paused, “and drinking booze.”

Amara stared at him, speechless.

“You should get out more,” she shot back, “or maybe eat something. Might help with your condition.”

“What condition?” he asked, bored.

“Stuck-up-ass syndrome,” she muttered under her breath.

She could’ve sworn she saw the corner of his mouth twitch before he answered with a flat, “Whatever.”

“You should head upstairs. It’s late,” Darius said, pulling an umbrella from under the seat in one smooth motion. He moved like a panther... controlled, graceful, dangerous. If he ever wanted to, he could make a fortune as a model. Not that he ever would.

He opened the door and handed her the umbrella.

“Good night, Miss Dervino,” he said, his deep voice brushing over her skin like velvet.

Amara stood there for a long second, holding the umbrella but not opening it. She just watched Darius walk away through the rain.

The night was dark, the driveway lit only by the soft glow of the mansion lights. Raindrops fell steadily, making the ground shine. Darius didn’t even bother using an umbrella for himself... he simply walked through the rain like it didn’t touch him, like getting wet meant nothing.

His broad shoulders moved under his dark shirt, soaked almost instantly. The water made the fabric cling to him, outlining strong muscles that looked carved and dangerous. Every step he took was steady, controlled, like nothing in this world could shake him.

Something warm and confusing twisted in her stomach.

Why was she staring at him like this?

Why did he look even more dangerously gorgeous dripping wet?

Ugh. Hormones. Again.

She snapped out of it and opened the umbrella before she melted into a puddle of embarrassment. But even as she started walking toward the mansion doors, she kept glancing back at him.

He reached the side entrance and paused for a moment, wiping the rain from his forehead. Then, as if he could feel her staring, he looked over his shoulder.

Their eyes met.

His expression was unreadable... calm, cold, distant… but something flickered there for half a second. Something she couldn’t place. Something that made her heart thump against her ribs.