Amara's POV
Trey's phone rang, slicing through the tense air like a reprieve. He muttered something under his breath, glanced at the screen, and strode out of the room without a word, his footsteps fading down the corridor. The moment he disappeared, the tightness in my chest finally snapped. I rounded on Tessa.
"How could you do this to me?" My voice came out low and shaking but sharp enough to cut glass. "Why would you lie to me like this? I trusted you, Tessa."
Her face crumpled, eyes darting toward the door as if she could will her brother back to shield her. "Amara, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I only wanted to help you. I never thought you still had feelings for my brother—"
"Stop." I held up a hand. The tremor in my fingers betrayed me but I held her gaze. "You think that's why I don't want to handle this? Because I still have feelings for Trey?" I gave a humorless laugh. "Come on, Tessa. Your brother still looks at me like I'm a child. Even now, after all these years, even after everything I've built."
"You don't see yourself," she murmured. "You're—"
"Don't," I cut in, the word snapping like a whip. "Don't try to sweet-talk me. Don't try to dress this up." I swallowed hard, the taste of rain still on my tongue. "I looked in the mirror this morning and saw someone who's fought tooth and nail for every inch of respect she's got. I'm not a child. And yet here I am, being treated like one again."
Tessa hesitated, then tried to smile. "You are hot and beautiful," she murmured.
I glared at her, heat flashing under my skin. "That is not the point." My voice shook, but I pressed on, every word steadier than the last.
"And let me clarify something: I don't have feelings for Trey. I swear to you, Tessa, I will never fall for someone as arrogant and self-centered as him. I would rather spend my life with someone who has nothing but a heart than spend one second chasing a billionaire who has no heart at all."
Her smile faltered, her eyes darkening. "Amara, he's still my brother," she whispered, as if that could soften the blow.
"And still," I shot back, my voice going quiet and deadly, "it doesn't excuse you from putting me in this position. You handed me over like a bargaining chip."
"I thought—"
"You thought wrong." I took a breath, my chest rising and falling, trying to anchor myself. "I should have known better. I should have run when you couldn't even give me the name of your cousin. I am so stupid for signing those papers without meeting the groom first."
Tessa winced, twisting her fingers. "I didn't think he'd be so harsh—"
"You didn't think at all," I said softly, and that hurt her more than if I'd shouted.
Silence fell between us. Outside, thunder rolled over the hills, the windows rattling with the sound. My hands were still trembling, but not from fear anymore. From anger. From heartbreak. From the dizzying nearness of him, even now, just a few rooms away.
Tessa's eyes filled with tears. "I only wanted to open a door for you," she whispered. "I didn't know it would feel like a trap."
I pressed my lips together, fighting the lump in my throat. "A door?" I said quietly. "It feels like a cage."
Somewhere down the hall, Trey's voice rose as he ended his call, a deep rumble that made the chandelier crystals tremble. For one wild heartbeat, I imagined him walking back in, seeing me like this — trembling, furious, betrayed. And instead of shrinking, I straightened. My chin lifted. If I was going to survive this, I would do it on my feet.
The low murmur of Trey's voice drifted down the hallway, then stopped. A door clicked shut somewhere, and his footsteps came back, deliberate and heavy on the polished wood. My pulse jumped.
Tessa wiped at her eyes, frantic. "Amara—" she whispered. "Just...breathe. Please."
I didn't move. I stood rooted to the marble, arms folded tight over my portfolio like armor, my heart hammering against it. I told myself to meet his eyes. To look untouchable.
Trey appeared in the doorway, phone still in hand, his suit jacket unbuttoned now as if he'd ripped it open mid-call. Rainlight caught on his cufflinks, flashing silver. His eyes went immediately to Tessa, then slid to me.
"What's going on?" His voice was quiet but dangerous, like the air before a storm.
Tessa opened her mouth but nothing came out. Her eyes flicked to me.
"Nothing," I said, before she could. My voice came out calm, a veneer stretched over molten fury. "We were just clarifying the schedule."
Trey's gaze locked on mine, unblinking. "Clarifying?" His eyes flicked briefly to the damp hem of my dress, the faint tremor in my hand gripping the portfolio. He'd seen. Of course he had.
I lifted my chin. "Yes. Clarifying. Because apparently I'm expected to perform miracles on a timeline no one bothered to tell me about."
Something flickered in his eyes — annoyance, interest, maybe both. "You're expected to do your job," he said softly. "Which, as of yesterday, you're legally contracted to do."
My stomach dipped, but I refused to look away. "I'm aware of the contract."
He stepped into the room, closing the distance, his cologne — rain and cedar and something darker — sliding under my skin. "Good. Then we understand each other."
Behind him, Tessa shifted, looking like she wanted to vanish. "Trey..." she started.
He raised one hand slightly without taking his eyes off me, silencing her. "You know, I was on the verge of canceling the contract when I saw you walk in," he said. "But now, I'm curious."
I blinked at him, pulse hammering. "Curious?"
"About whether the maid's daughter can actually pull off the wedding of the year," he said, his voice low. "Or if she'll crumble like she did in the rose garden."
The words landed like a strike, but this time I didn't flinch. "Then I suggest you get out of my way and let me work."
For a heartbeat, something changed in his eyes — a spark, a flicker of heat he didn't catch in time. He tilted his head slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Be careful, Miss Castillo," he murmured. "If you keep talking like that, I might almost start to believe you."
He turned away first, which felt like a small victory, and spoke over his shoulder to Tessa. "Get her everything she needs. Floor plans, budgets, staff contacts. No excuses."
Then he left the room as suddenly as he'd entered, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
The door clicked shut. Tessa exhaled shakily. "God, Amara," she whispered. "What are you doing?"
I stared at the empty doorway, my hands trembling around my portfolio. "Trying not to drown," I said quietly. "Trying to remember why I signed that contract."
Then I turned on Tessa, the words coming before I could stop them. "And for the record," I hissed, "I hate him for it. I hate that he still calls me 'the maid's daughter' like I don't even have a name. Like every inch I've fought for in this life means nothing to him."
Tessa winced, biting her lip. "Amara—"
"No. Don't you dare 'Amara' me. You're the one who dragged me back here. You're the one who put me under his thumb. Why?" My voice cracked, but it only made it sharper. "Why would you do that to me?"
"Her eyes softened, guilt flashing across her face like lightning over water. "Because I wanted you to help him," she said finally, her voice small but steady. "I don't like her—the bride. She's wrong for him. She's all polish and performance, Amara. She doesn't even try to hide that she's after his money. Everything about her is curated, fake—every smile, every laugh, every tear. She doesn't love him; she loves what he represents. And since she's been around, he's... he's not himself anymore. He's colder. Harder. Like she's draining something out of him."
Amara blinked, stunned. "So you dragged me here because you think I can undo that?"
Tessa's hands twisted together, knuckles white. "I dragged you here because you're the only one who's ever been able to cut through him. You were the only person who ever saw him—really saw him—when we were kids. And I'm scared, Amara. Scared that if this wedding goes through, the man I grew up with will be gone for good."
I blinked, stunned. "You wanted me to help your brother?" My laugh came out jagged. "Tessa, are you out of your mind? You think a wedding coordinator can save a CEO from a marriage he chose?"
She took a step closer, hands twisting. "You don't see yourself, Amara. You have this way about you—your talent, your beauty, your charm—"
"Stop." I shook my head hard. "Don't you see how he looks at me? Like I'm an inconvenience. Like I'm still hiding under the servants' staircase."
"That's not what he feels," she whispered.
"Blind," I snapped. "You're blind if you can't see the disgust in his eyes."
Tessa's jaw tightened. "It's not disgust," she said softly. "It's a shield. He likes you, Amara. He's always liked you. He just doesn't know how to show it."
The words landed between us like a live wire. For a second the storm outside faded, the only sound my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, my throat too tight to form a word.
Tessa's gaze held mine, trembling but unflinching. "I thought if anyone could break through, it would be you."
I gripped the portfolio until my knuckles went white. "You've made a terrible mistake," I whispered, but my voice betrayed me — because somewhere deep, under all the anger, a single flicker of dangerous hope had sparked.
The words landed between us like a live wire. For a second the storm outside faded, the only sound my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. My pulse skittered wildly, my chest tightening until I thought I might choke on air.
Heat shot up my neck; my hands shook around the portfolio as if it weighed a thousand pounds. I hated the way a flicker of hope cracked through my anger — hated that Tessa's words could do that to me.
I blinked hard, my voice coming out raw. "No. No, I'm not doing this. I'll call my lawyer. I'll back out. I'll—" The words tangled in my throat, but the need to escape was so strong it almost pulled me out of the room.
Tessa's eyes widened, her hands flying up. "Amara, you can't. You signed the contract. The breach of contract penalty alone is enormous — triple your professional fee. And there's a clause about residency." Her voice wavered but pressed on. "It's in black and white. You're required to stay at the mansion for the full duration of the preparations. You agreed to it."
I stared at her, cold washing through my veins, my stomach bottoming out. "I—what?" My voice broke on the word.
"You didn't read it carefully," she whispered. "I sent it by messenger. You signed yesterday."
The room tilted. I saw myself sitting at my kitchen table, bleary-eyed from working back-to-back events, scrawling my signature because Tessa had assured me it was just a standard agreement. My nails dug into the leather of the portfolio so hard they left half-moons. "I trusted you," I breathed. "God, I trusted you."
Tessa reached for me but I stepped back, the marble cold under my heels. "Amara, please—"
"No." My voice was a rasp, almost a growl. "You didn't just hand me a job. You locked me in a gilded cage with him." My hands trembled harder, rage and humiliation and a sick pulse of fear crashing together until my eyes burned. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Tessa's face crumpled, tears spilling over. "I thought—"
"You thought wrong," I snapped, the words ripping out of me before I could soften them.
"You thought wrong and now I'm the one trapped with the consequences."
The storm outside roared, rain lashing the windows like thrown gravel. Somewhere down the hall Trey's voice rose again, deep and dark, his footsteps coming closer. I shut my eyes for a beat, fighting to steady my breathing, to push the panic back into a box.