Chapter Twenty-Five: Lines We Can't Cross
The drive back from the press conference was quiet, the hum of the car a low backdrop to the storm swirling in Amara's chest. Ethan sat beside her, his gaze fixed out the window, sunglasses shielding his expression.
She couldn't stop replaying his words in her mind. Sometimes you guard the things you love most.
He'd said it with such conviction that even she had believed him—if only for a moment. But belief was dangerous when the foundation between them was built on signatures and conditions.
When they arrived at the villa, Amara headed straight for the terrace, the salty evening breeze doing little to ease the tightness in her chest. Ethan followed, his steps measured, as if bracing himself.
"You should be proud," he said finally. "You handled yourself well today."
She spun to face him, her eyes flashing. "Is that what this is about to you? Performance reviews?"
His brows furrowed. "Amara—"
"No." Her voice trembled, but she held her ground. "You stood there in front of the world and said I was something you loved. Do you have any idea what that did to me? And then afterward, you act like it was all just…strategy."
Ethan's jaw tightened, his silence louder than any denial.
Her throat ached, but the words spilled out anyway. "So tell me, Ethan. Was it real—or just another script for the cameras?"
For a moment, he looked away, his hand gripping the railing as though it were the only thing keeping him steady. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost raw. "I don't know."
The honesty in his answer cut deeper than a lie would have.
Amara's chest hollowed. "You don't know?"
His eyes snapped back to hers, stormy and conflicted. "You don't understand what you're asking. Loving someone—letting them that close—has cost me everything before. If I let myself feel that again and lose it, I won't survive it a second time."
The words broke something in her. She stepped closer, her voice fierce despite the tears burning her eyes. "And if you keep pushing me away, you'll lose me anyway."
The silence between them trembled, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. Ethan's hand twitched at his side, as though he wanted to reach for her, but he didn't.
Instead, he turned sharply, retreating toward the house. "We can't afford distractions right now. The media storm is only beginning. Focus on that."
The door shut behind him with finality, leaving Amara on the terrace, her heart splintering beneath the glow of the fading sun.
For the first time since stepping into Ethan Blackwood's world, she realized the contract wasn't the only thing binding her—it was her own heart, foolish enough to fall for a man who didn't know how to let himself love.
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