The sun dipped below the horizon, casting amber light over the private beach villa Zane had arranged last minute. Amara stood barefoot on the deck, toes curling into the warm wood as sea breeze played with her hair. The waves whispered against the shore—peaceful, soothing, almost deceptive.
Zane stepped behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. "You've been quiet."
She leaned into him. "Just… breathing it all in."
He rested his chin on her shoulder. "You never liked the sea before."
"I never took the time to like anything," she whispered, meaning more than she let on.
He didn't push. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her neck. "Dinner's ready."
They ate on the terrace, a private chef preparing courses neither of them really tasted. Their attention was on each other—Amara laughing softly at Zane's rare, dry humor; Zane watching her like she was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.
Later, they walked the shoreline in silence. Then Zane stopped, eyes focused on the horizon, hands shoved into his pockets.
"I never understood why you hated me so much," he said suddenly. His voice was calm, but the words carried weight.
Amara turned to him slowly. "Zane…"
"I tried. God, I tried so hard to make you happy. Gave you space. Gave you time. I thought—maybe if I worked harder, gave you more, you'd… come around" He looked down. "But every day, you were slipping through my fingers."
She stepped closer, heart twisting with guilt and grief. "You didn't lose me, Zane. I__I was foolish" I
His jaw tightened. "Why?"
Hello interrupted!
Amara hesitated. The truth tangled in her throat. Because I was blinded. Because I was weak. Because I believed a man who was quietly crafting my death.
Instead, she reached for his hand. "I made mistakes. But I'm here now. And I want to be better—if you'll let me."
Zane studied her for a long moment, then lifted her hand to his lips. "I want to believe you. I do."
And that was enough—for now.
----
They continued walking along the shoreline, the waves gently kissing their feet, the horizon stained in hues of soft amber and lavender.
Amara suddenly stopped, pulling him by the hand toward a secluded spot nestled between two rocky outcrops. The tide hummed a quiet lullaby, shielding them in a cocoon of salt and silence.
"Come here," she said, her voice low, almost trembling—but not from fear.
She turned to face him fully, reached up, and framed his face with both hands. Her eyes shimmered, but her touch was sure. "I need to feel close to you again. I need to remind myself what love feels like—if you'll let me."
Before he could answer, her lips were already on his—hungry, Zane responded instantly, arms wrapping around her, but Amara pulled back, breathless.
"Let me," she said, firm and soft all at once.
She unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it down his shoulders, revealing the body she remembered too well. She kissed his chest, tasting the salt of the ocean and of him. Then she guided his hands to her hips as she tugged her dress over her head, leaving it to flutter into the sand.
He stared at her like she was the only truth he'd ever known. "Amara…"
"Shh," she whispered, stepping closer, pressing her bare skin against his. "Tonight, I lead."
She backed him gently down to the blanket she'd brought earlier for the walk, now laid across the soft, sun-warmed sand. Straddling him, her movements were fluid and controlled. She kissed down his throat, tasting his skin like a woman starved of intimacy. Her fingers roamed, teasing, claiming him.
Zane groaned as she lowered herself onto him, eyes fluttering shut. The ocean sang behind them, wild and steady. Amara rolled her hips with purpose, her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his mouth back to hers.
He let her take control. Let her write forgiveness with every movement, every gasp, every breathed against his skin. She rode the waves—his hands guiding her, her lips finding his over and over—until her body trembled around him, and he followed with a guttural moan into her shoulder.
They collapsed together, skin warm and slick, hearts beating out of rhythm but alive.
She rested her head against his chest. "I love you, Zane."
His arms tightened around her. "Then stay."
And this time, she did.
That night, while Zane slept wrapped around her, Amara slipped from bed. The villa's study was empty, quiet, and bathed in moonlight. She moved silently to the safe in the corner—one Zane had forgotten to lock. A quick scan of the files revealed business contracts, transfer documents, and correspondence between Zane and the board of directors.
She took photos of everything related to succession plans and Darian's name—small things. Things no one would notice missing.
Returning to bed, she nestled into Zane's warmth, her body trembling from the quiet rush of deception. He murmured her name in his sleep and pulled her closer.
Don't fall again, she told herself. Not until justice is done.
The next morning, Zane woke her with soft kisses and a smile that made her chest ache. They stayed another day, swimming in the ocean, making love beneath white cotton sheets, and pretending—for just a moment—that their world wasn't stained by betrayal.
But Amara knew better.
The calm never lasted.