Chapter 40

AMARA'S POV***

I didn’t even know why I came to the pool.

Maybe because the apartment felt too loud even after the music died. Maybe because my head wouldn’t shut up. Maybe because every time I closed my eyes, I saw Dorian’s face at that party—dark, unreadable… dangerous.

And the way he looked at me during that stupid dare. Like he wanted to drag me off Jack’s lap and lock me away.

Then he left.

It shouldn’t have bothered me. It shouldn’t have mattered.

Because the moment he disappeared, the whole party felt different. Like my skin suddenly remembered who it belonged to… even though it shouldn’t belong to anyone.

I couldn’t sleep after. Davina knocked out quickly, sprawled across the bed like she didn’t have a care in the world. I lay beside her, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant hum of the city outside the apartment windows. But inside me, everything was too loud.

So I got up quietly, grabbed a towel, and walked out.

The hallway lights were dim. The apartment was quiet. Everyone was either asleep or too drunk. The pool area was almost empty. Perfect.

I slipped my robe off and stepped into the water, letting the cold swallow me. I swam.

One lap. Two.

I forced myself to focus on the water. Anything but the memory of Dorian’s gaze. 

After a while, my muscles started to relax. My mind started to slow down.

I swam to the edge and rested my arms on the tile, breathing hard. Water dripped down my shoulders and chest. My hair clung to my neck.

I closed my eyes. Just breathe, Amara.

Then I heard footsteps. My eyes opened instantly. I turned my head. There he was–

Dorian.

Walking towards me. His face was unreadable, but his eyes… were sharp.

Locked on me. My breath caught in my throat.

Of course it would be him. Because my life had a habit of putting him in front of me at the exact moment I was trying to forget he existed.

“Are you done?” he asked.

His voice was calm. But the kind of calm that came before something snapped.

I blinked, pushing wet hair away from my face. “Excuse me?”

His gaze didn’t shift. Not even slightly.

“Come out of the pool.”

I stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“What?”

“Come out,” he repeated, voice firmer.

The nerve.

I scoffed, turning my body fully to face him, water rippling around my waist. “Why should I?”

His jaw tightened.

“Because I said so.”

I laughed softly. Not because it was funny. Because it was ridiculous.

“You don’t own me, Dorian.”

His eyes darkened at the sound of his name on my tongue. He took a step closer. Then another.

“If you don’t come out,” he said, voice low, “I’ll come in there and carry you out myself.”

Heat slid down my spine.

I held his gaze for a second longer, then pushed away from the edge and slowly stood up. The water slipped down my body as I stepped toward the ladder.

I climbed out, and the cool night air hit my skin instantly, making my nipples tighten beneath the thin fabric of my bikini.

I didn’t move fast. If he wanted to act like a king, then he could wait.

The moment I came out, his eyes dropped. Slowly.

From my face… to my collarbone… down the curve of my chest… the line of my stomach… my hips… my thighs.

His stare wasn’t polite.It wasn’t even pretending to be. It was possession.

I swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how revealing the bikini was. Blue, barely holding on, clinging to every curve like it was made to be torn off.

I shifted slightly, trying to reach the towel.

But before I could grab it, Dorian’s hand shot out and caught my wrist. I sucked in a breath. His grip wasn’t rough.

“Don’t,” he said.

My heart pounded.

I looked up at him. “Don’t what?”

He moved closer. So close I could feel his body heat against my wet skin. Then, without warning, he lifted me. My breath left my lungs as my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

His hands gripped under my thighs, holding me up like I weighed nothing. My wet body pressed against his chest. His scent hit me—whiskey, clean cologne, and something darker.

I grabbed his shoulders, more out of instinct than choice. My pulse was racing.

“What the hell are you doing?” I whispered.