Chapter 3: The Warning
1069 Words
The car was silent.
Not peacefully silent.
The kind of silence that made Amelia painfully aware of every sound—the soft hum of the air conditioner, the tires against the road, even the faint tapping of Damian's fingers against his phone.
She sat in the back seat beside him, staring through the window.
The message wouldn't leave her mind.
You can't protect her forever.
She finally turned toward him.
“Who is she?”
Damian didn't look up.
“Who?”
“The woman they're talking about.”
His fingers stopped.
Amelia watched his expression carefully.
“I never said it was a woman.”
“You didn't have to.”
He slowly put his phone away.
“You ask too many questions.”
“And you give too few answers.”
His eyes met hers.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Damian looked toward the driver.
“Pull over.”
The car slowed.
Amelia frowned.
“Why are we stopping?”
Damian opened the door.
“Get out.”
“What?”
“Get out, Amelia.”
She stared at him.
“Are you firing me?”
“No.”
“Then why—”
“Because I need to speak to you without an audience.”
The driver remained in the car.
Amelia stepped outside.
Damian followed.
They stood beneath the dim streetlights while the city moved around them.
“What is going on?” she asked.
Damian looked at her.
“Someone has been asking questions about you.”
Her stomach tightened.
“About me?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“I know enough to know it's not random.”
Amelia crossed her arms.
“What kind of questions?”
“Where you live. Where you work. Who you're related to.”
The last question made her pause.
“Who I'm related to?”
Damian nodded.
“Does your family have enemies?”
Amelia almost laughed.
“My family?”
“Yes.”
“My father works at a small accounting firm. My mother runs a bakery. We don't exactly have enemies.”
“Everyone has secrets.”
“My family doesn't.”
Damian studied her face.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
He looked away.
That bothered Amelia more than anything else.
“Damian.”
His eyes snapped back to hers.
It was the first time she'd called him by his first name.
He didn't correct her.
“Why are you asking me these things?”
He hesitated.
Then his voice became quieter.
“Because your surname isn't the only reason you're here.”
Amelia's brows pulled together.
“What does that mean?”
“Did you know your mother worked for Blackwood International twenty-six years ago?”
She froze.
“What?”
“Your mother.”
Amelia shook her head.
“No. That's impossible.”
“I checked.”
“My mother has never worked for your company.”
“Not according to what she told you.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
Amelia stepped back.
“You're saying my mother lied to me?”
“I'm saying there's information you don't have.”
She stared at him.
“Why?”
“I don't know yet.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's the truth.”
Amelia looked down at the pavement.
Her mind was racing.
Her mother had always been private about the years before Amelia was born. Whenever Amelia asked, she simply said she'd worked several ordinary jobs and eventually met Amelia's father.
Nothing about Blackwood International.
Nothing about Damian's family.
Nothing about twenty-six years ago.
“Why didn't you tell me during the interview?”
“Because I didn't know then.”
“Then how did you find out?”
“Someone sent me the information tonight.”
“Who?”
Damian's jaw tightened.
“The same person who sent the message.”
A chill ran down Amelia's spine.
“Why would someone care about my mother?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how do you know I'm in danger?”
“I don't.”
She looked at him sharply.
“You just told me someone is asking where I live.”
“I said I don't know what they want.”
“That sounds like danger to me.”
Damian didn't answer.
Amelia exhaled slowly.
“Take me home.”
“No.”
Her eyes widened.
“Excuse me?”
“You're not going home tonight.”
“You can't tell me where I can go.”
“I'm not trying to control you.”
“It certainly sounds like it.”
“Someone knows where you live.”
“Then I'll stay with a friend.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever sent that message knows enough about you to make me concerned.”
Amelia shook her head.
“This is insane.”
“Maybe.”
He stepped closer.
“But until I know who's behind it, you're staying somewhere secure.”
“And where exactly is that?”
Damian looked at her.
“My penthouse.”
Amelia stared at him.
“No.”
“It wasn't a suggestion.”
“Then definitely no.”
Something almost amused flickered across his face.
“You argue with everything.”
“Because you order everything.”
“You're impossible.”
“So I've been told.”
For the first time that evening, the tension between them eased.
Just slightly.
Damian looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said, “Fine.”
Amelia blinked.
“Fine?”
“You'll stay at the guest apartment in my building.”
She hesitated.
“That sounds better.”
“It's secure.”
“Of course it is.”
He opened the car door.
“Get in.”
Amelia sighed.
“Bossy.”
“I heard that.”
“I wanted you to.”
She climbed into the car.
Damian followed.
Neither noticed the black sedan parked across the street.
Inside it, a man watched their car disappear into traffic.
He lifted his phone.
“She's with him.”
A pause.
Then he smiled.
“Exactly where we wanted her.”
He ended the call.
And beneath the glow of the city lights, the first piece of a secret that had been buried for twenty-six years began to surface.
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