Chapter 63 The Bold Move
ALEXEI
I hung up and smiled.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
Amelia had taken the bait. The mention of Victoria with Jeremy had done exactly what I'd hoped, made her jealous, insecure, and angry.
And now she was meeting me tomorrow. Willingly. Eagerly, even.
I pulled out my phone and texted Viktor:
She's meeting me tomorrow. 1pm. Same café. She's angry at Jeremy. This is our opening.
His response came immediately:
Good. Build on that anger. Make her doubt him. Make her trust you. We'll use her when the time is right.
I pocketed my phone and stared out my window at the city below.
Poor Amelia. She had no idea she was being manipulated.
No idea that every kind word, every offer of friendship, every "accidental" meeting was calculated.
No idea that I was using her jealousy and hurt feelings to drive a wedge between her and Jeremy Santoro.
And tomorrow, I'd push that wedge deeper.
Make her question Jeremy's motives. Make her doubt his feelings. Make her wonder if she was just a convenient distraction while he maintained his real life with Victoria.
It was almost too easy.
She was so desperate for normalcy. For someone to treat her like she mattered. For someone who didn't see her blindness as a weakness or her presence as a complication.
And I could offer her all of that.
For a price she didn't know she was paying.
Tomorrow, I'd be the perfect friend. Sympathetic. Understanding. Supportive.
And Jeremy Santoro would lose the one weakness he couldn't protect.
Not through violence.
Through choice.
Amelia would choose to trust me instead of him.
And by the time she realised what she'd done, it would have been too late.
AMELIA
I sat in my room for the rest of the day, alternating between confidence in my decision and crushing guilt.
I am meeting Alex tomorrow. Just for coffee. Just to talk. Nothing wrong with that.
Except I knew Jeremy would be furious if he found out. Knew it would look like betrayal. Knew it was dangerous in ways I didn't fully understand.
But he'd left with Victoria. This morning. Right after our kiss.
So maybe we were even.
Around 7pm, I heard the front door open. And the sounds of footsteps in the hallway.
Jeremy was home.
My heart hammered as his footsteps came closer. Stopped outside my door.
A knock.
"Amelia? Can I come in?"
I took a breath. "Yes."
The door opened. I heard him step inside and close it behind him.
"Hi," he said softly.
"Hi."
Silence. Heavy with everything we needed to say.
"About last night." he started.
"You left with Victoria this morning."
The words came out sharper than I intended. Accusatory.
"I—yes. She came by. We had business. A family meeting at the Castellano estate." He moved closer. "I left you a note. Did you get it?"
"I got it."
"Then you know I wanted to stay. I wanted to spend time with you. But I couldn't."
"Because your fiancée needed you." I stood up. "Because she's the priority. Not whatever this is."
"That's not—Amelia, it's not like that —"
"Isn't it?" I turned toward where his voice was. "You kissed me last night. Told me you wanted me. Then left this morning with the woman you're engaged to. The woman you'll probably marry someday. While I'm what? Your secret? Your maid? Your..."
"You're not." He stopped. Started again. "Victoria and I aren't—it's complicated."
"Everything with you is complicated." My voice shook. "I'm tired of complicated, Jeremy. I'm tired of not knowing what I am to you. I'm tired of being hidden away while you maintain your real life with her."
"She's not my real life. You are." He stopped abruptly.
Silence.
Had he really just said that?
"What?" I whispered.
"Nothing. I just..." I heard him run his hand through his hair. Frustrated. "Can we please just talk? About last night? About what it meant?"
Part of me wanted to. Wanted to hear what he had to say. Wanted to forgive him for leaving with Victoria.
But another part, the hurt, frustrated part, couldn't.
"I'm tired," I said. "Can we talk tomorrow?"
"Amelia"
"Please, Jeremy. I just need time. To think."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Okay. Tomorrow. We'll talk tomorrow."
He left.
And I sat back down on my bed, guilt crashing over me.
Tomorrow, I am meeting Alex.
And I hadn't told Jeremy.
Which meant I was lying by omission.
Which meant I was doing exactly what he'd accused Alex of doing—being strategic. Manipulative. Playing games.
But he'd left with Victoria.
So maybe we both were.
And maybe that's what we deserved.
Two people too scared and stubborn to be honest with each other.
Too caught up in jealousy and pride to just talk.
Tomorrow, I'd meet Alex for coffee.
And then I'd come back and talk to Jeremy.
And hope I hadn't destroyed everything in between.
Amelia
I lay in my bed for an hour after Jeremy left, staring at the ceiling I couldn't see, my mind racing.
Tomorrow, I am meeting Alex. Out of spite. I was meeting Alex out of envy. Because I was hurt.
And tonight, Jeremy had come to talk and I'd pushed him away. Because he'd left with Victoria. Because I was angry and confused and didn't know how to process what I felt.
But what if—
What if, instead of pushing him away, making bad decisions out of jealousy, or playing games, I was just honest?
What if I was just honest? Direct?
What if I showed him what I wanted instead of being scared?
The thought made my heart race.
I could go to him. Right now. Tell him—no, show him—that last night meant something to me. That I wanted him. That I was tired of dancing around this.
Before I could second-guess myself, I got up.
Went to my closet. Found the nightgown someone had packed for me—silk, short, the kind of thing I'd never worn before. Slipped it on.
No underwear. The only material was the thin silk.
My hands shook as I grabbed my cane.
This was bold. Reckless. Such behaviour was entirely uncharacteristic of me.
But I was tired of being careful. I was fed up with the act of waiting, fed up with allowing fear to dictate my choices.
I wanted Jeremy. Had wanted him for weeks.
I made my way down the hallway, coffee mug in one hand, cane in the other. Stopped outside Jeremy's door.
Knocked softly.
"Yeah?" His voice from inside. Surprised.
"It's me. I made you coffee. Can I come in?"
A pause. "Amelia, you don't have to."
"I want to."
Another pause. Then: "Come in."
I opened the door and stepped inside. The room smelt like him—cologne and soap and something underneath that was just Jeremy.
"You made coffee?" He sounded confused. Touched.
"I know you probably need it. After a long day with Victoria and the Castellanos, I moved towards his voice. Toward the bed. "Here."
I held out the mug.
His hand touched mine as he took it. I felt that same electric spark as I had during dinner last night.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "You didn't have to do this."
"I know. I wanted to."
I turned to leave.
And I deliberately caught my cane on something. Perhaps it was the edge of a rug.
I stumbled forward with a gasp.