Forbidden Attraction

Chapter 4.

Chapter Four: Cornered by Secrets

The knock on my door echoes like a gunshot, and my heart slams against my ribs. Mom’s voice—sharp, demanding—cuts through the haze of panic from that anonymous text. *Leave him, or this goes public.* The words burn in my brain, the blurry photo of me and Daniel in the cove glaring from my phone screen. Daniel’s still gripping my hand, his face tight with something between fury and fear. I want to scream, to hide, but there’s nowhere to go.

“Ava, I said open this door!” Mom’s voice spikes, and I can hear the rattle of the handle.

“s**t,” Daniel mutters, stepping back, his eyes darting to the window like he’s calculating an escape. “Don’t tell her about the text. Not yet.”

“Why?” I hiss, shoving my phone into my pocket, my hands shaking. “Someone’s threatening us, Daniel! We can’t just—”

“Trust me,” he cuts in, his voice low, urgent. “We don’t know who sent it. Could be Richard, could be someone else. Just play it cool.”

Cool. Right. Like that’s possible when my mom’s about to bust in and my life’s unraveling. I take a shaky breath and yank the door open, forcing my face into something I hope looks innocent. Mom’s standing there, her silk robe askew, her blonde hair loose and wild. Her blue eyes zero in on Daniel behind me, and her mouth tightens into a line.

“What is he doing in your room?” she demands, her voice low but venomous.

I cross my arms, trying to keep my voice steady. “Talking, Mom. It’s not a crime.”

“Talking?” She steps inside, her gaze flicking between us like she’s piecing together a puzzle. “At this hour? After what I saw on the boat? Ava, I’m not stupid.”

Daniel leans against the wall, his casual smirk back, but it’s strained. “Relax, Claire. I was just checking on her. Jet lag’s a killer, right, Ava?”

“Yeah,” I say, too fast, my cheeks burning. “Couldn’t sleep. Daniel was just… keeping me company.”

Mom’s not buying it. She points at Daniel, her finger trembling. “You. Out. Now. And stay away from my daughter.”

Daniel raises his hands, all mock surrender. “Whatever you say, sis.” He brushes past her, his shoulder grazing mine as he leaves, and I feel that spark again, even now, when everything’s falling apart. He pauses at the door, his eyes meeting mine for a split second—*stay strong*—before he’s gone.

Mom shuts the door behind him, hard, and turns on me. “What are you doing, Ava?” Her voice cracks, and I see the hurt behind her anger, the kind that makes my stomach twist with guilt. “He’s your step-uncle. This isn’t some teenage fling. It’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” I snap, my own anger flaring. “You don’t get to decide what’s wrong for me, Mom. You’re so busy being Mrs. Perfect, you don’t even see me!”

Her face flinches, like I’ve slapped her. “That’s not fair,” she says, quieter now. “I’m trying to protect you. Daniel’s dangerous, Ava. Richard’s told me things—about his past, his mistakes. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Then tell me!” I shout, stepping closer. “Stop treating me like a kid who can’t handle the truth. What’s so bad about Daniel?”

She hesitates, her hands fidgeting with her robe’s sash. “He’s… unreliable. He got mixed up with bad people, Ava. Richard had to bail him out, and it cost them both. That’s all you need to know.”

“That’s not enough,” I say, my voice shaking. “You’re hiding something, just like Richard. And I’m sick of it.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, her eyes glistening. “Go to bed,” she says finally, turning away. “We’re leaving for Chicago tomorrow. This vacation’s over.”

She leaves, the door clicking shut, and I’m alone, my chest heaving. Chicago. Back to the real world, where Daniel’s still in the same house, where that photo could ruin us. I pull out my phone, staring at the text again. *Unknown number.* My thumb hovers over the reply button, but what do I even say? *Who are you?* *What do you want?* I’m scared to find out, but I’m more scared of doing nothing.

---

The next morning, the villa’s a ghost town of packed bags and strained silences. I’m in the dining room, picking at a plate of fruit, when Daniel slides into the seat across from me. He’s in a faded black tee, his hair messy, and the sight of him makes my heart lurch.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low, his eyes scanning the room for Richard or Mom.

“No,” I admit, pushing a strawberry around my plate. “Mom’s sending us home. And that text… Daniel, someone knows. Someone saw us.”

He leans forward, his elbows on the table, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m handling it. I’ve got a guy I know, someone who can trace numbers. But you need to delete that text, Ava. Now.”

“Why?” I ask, my voice sharp. “What if it’s evidence? What if we need it?”

He shakes his head, his jaw tight. “Evidence gets us caught. Delete it, and don’t tell anyone. Not even Claire.”

I want to argue, but the urgency in his eyes stops me. I pull out my phone, my fingers trembling as I delete the message, the photo vanishing like it never existed. But it did. And someone out there has it.

“Good,” Daniel says, relaxing slightly. “Now, when we get back to Chicago, we lay low. No late-night swims, no sneaking around. We play it safe until I figure out who’s behind this.”

“Safe?” I laugh, bitter. “You think we can just pretend nothing’s happening? Daniel, I can’t stop thinking about you. And I know you feel it too.”

His eyes darken, and he reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. “I feel it,” he says, his voice rough. “But this is bigger than us now. If that photo gets out, it’s not just your mom we’re dealing with. It’s Richard, the press, maybe worse.”

“Worse?” My heart skips. “You mean those bad people you mentioned? The ones Richard bailed you out of?”

He nods, his face grim. “They don’t play nice, Ava. And if they’re watching me, they’re watching you too.”

I swallow hard, the weight of his words sinking in. “So what do we do?”

“We stick together,” he says, his grip tightening on my hand. “But we’re careful. No more mistakes.”

I nod, but my mind’s spinning. Careful sounds impossible when every look he gives me makes me want to throw caution to the wind.

---

The flight back to Chicago is a nightmare of awkward silences. Mom’s buried in her tablet, Richard’s on his phone, and Daniel’s a few rows ahead, his head tipped back like he’s asleep. I’m stuck by the window, staring at clouds, my mind replaying that text, Richard’s cold stare, Mom’s disappointment. When we land, the Chicago air is cool and sharp, a slap after Santorini’s warmth. The Summers estate waits, all sprawling lawns and glass windows, but it feels like a cage now.

That night, I’m in my room, unpacking, when my phone buzzes. My heart leaps, hoping it’s Daniel, but it’s another unknown number. My hands shake as I open it—a new photo, this time from the boat tour, me and Daniel on that rocky outcrop, our hands tangled, his lips on my jaw. My breath catches, and the message below it sends ice down my spine: *Last warning. End it, or I send this to Claire.*

I’m frozen, my pulse roaring in my ears, when I hear footsteps in the hall. Heavy, deliberate. Richard’s voice calls out, closer than I expect. “Ava, we need to talk. Open your door.”