If there was one thing I knew for sure, it was this—
Amara was lying.
Not with her words. With her calm.
She sat across from me at our usual coffee stand, stirring the same cup for the fifth time without taking a sip. Same soft dress, same neat hair. Too neat. That was always her tell.
"You're doing it again," I said, folding my arms.
"Doing what?" she asked, eyes fixed on the coffee.
"Pretending you're fine when your entire life is being hijacked by a man whose name sounds like a villain in a gothic novel."
That got a reaction. A small smile. Brief. Gone too fast.
"Lucian Blackwood isn't a villain," she said quietly. "He's… controlled."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's worse."
She finally looked at me then. "You didn't see him, Cass."
"And thank God for that. I like my blood pressure stable."
I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "Amara, this isn't you. You've always pushed back. Even when it scared you. Now you're folding."
Her jaw tightened. "I'm surviving."
There it was.
I softened.
Survival looked different when love wasn't involved. When duty wore a man's face and contracts replaced choices.
She reached into her bag and placed something on the table.
A black card.
My breath caught.
"No," I said immediately. "Absolutely not. That thing looks expensive enough to come with emotional damage."
"He sent it," she murmured. "Said it's for… preparation."
"Preparation for what? Becoming a billionaire's trophy?"
Her eyes flashed. "Don't."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Okay. Sorry. That was low."
But I couldn't ignore the truth buzzing in my chest.
Men like Lucian Blackwood didn't give without expecting.
I took the card, feeling its weight. "Unlimited?"
She nodded.
I whistled. "He's either trying to control you or protect you."
"Or both."
That answer chilled me.
I studied her face again—really studied it this time. She wasn't in love. She wasn't excited. But she wasn't indifferent either.
Something had shifted.
"He got under your skin," I said softly.
She didn't deny it.
Instead, she whispered, "I don't think he sees me as weak."
That stopped me.
Most men like that loved weakness. They collected it.
"And that scares you?" I asked.
"Yes," she admitted. "Because I don't know what he'll do if I'm not."
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Then we make sure you're never alone in this."
Her fingers tightened around mine.
"We shop," I continued firmly. "We prepare. We make you look so untouchable that even his shadows hesitate."
A breath left her chest. Relief.
"Thank you," she said.
I smiled. "I'm not letting you walk into a lion's den without claws, babe."
As we stood to leave, I glanced once more at the black card in her hand.
Lucian Blackwood had just drawn a line.
And whether he realized it or not—
He'd involved me too.