But for that silent moment, something inside her beyond her own understanding, even as she hated him, shifted.
Indecision was weighing her down, where her own emotions were concerned.
Her father hadn't called again.
Not once.
Morana didn't know why that worried her, but for some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen. Something she was not going to like by any means. She wouldn't anyway, not if her father was perpetrating it.
Taking a deep breath, and shaking off those thoughts for later, she opened the door of the guest bedroom and walked out into the penthouse.
After the previous night, had she been any regular girl in any other world, she wouldn't have known what to expect. But her normal wasn't regular, which was exactly the reason she knew what to expect.
She walked out of the guest bedroom, knowing she was alone in the penthouse. He'd left as soon as dawn had struck, and so had she, retreating into the guestroom for the remainder of the night, a few hours ago.
They hadn't spoken a word after that initial conversation, but she knew, as she walked towards the kitchen, that whatever silent truce had existed with those fragile raindrops had disappeared along with the rain. The sun shone brightly in the sky, the light cutting through the glass wall and lighting up the entire room, every dark inch of space touched with fire, the conditioned air keeping away the heat. The view, that gorgeous view, lay bare before her eyes, the sunlight glinting off the water at one end and climbing over the buildings at the other.
Hopping up on the stool she'd been sitting on the previous evening, she thought of preparing some coffee for herself then thought better of it. The truce was over. She'd already been drugged once. She wasn't a fool enough to be again.
The sound of the elevator opening made her turn quickly, her hand resting on her handbag, where her gun resided. Her grip on the bag eased slightly when she saw Amara walking towards her, her tall, curvy body encased in tan slacks, a red top, and green silk scarf, her dark, wild curls falling around her beautiful face, a small smile on her lips.
"Good morning, Morana," the woman nodded, her forest-green eyes bright.
Morana relaxed slightly and nodded back. "Amara."
Amara smiled and pulled open the fridge. The familiar manner with which she moved around the space as she got glasses from cabinets irked Morana for some reason. She grit her teeth and turned away, looking out at the view.
"Would you like some juice?"
Morana turned back to see her holding up some orange juice in her hand, her head tilted in a query. She hesitated and Amara smiled. "It's not drugged, don't worry."
Mentally shaking her head at herself, Morana nodded.
"I cannot blame you for worrying, though. Not after what happened at the club," Amara kept on speaking, pouring out the cool liquid in two tall glasses, her voice that same soft timbre it had been, making Morana's heart clench, her mind racing with questions about this woman who'd shown her only kindness. What was it like for her, knowing she could never speak above a whisper? Did it hurt if she spoke louder? Did she carry physical scars too? How badly had she been tortured?
Morana blinked the questions away, more pressing ones rising in her mind.
"Did you get back to the club safely that night?" she asked as the other woman sat across from her, her elbows on the table.
"Yes," Amara replied in her soft rasp. "Tristan was there. I was safe."
Coming from a woman who'd been tortured as a girl, that one statement told Morana a lot. She filed it away for later and continued with the questions.
"Do you know who got in the SUV after you and Mr. Caine made it to the club?"
Amara frowned slightly, her lips pursing. "No. Did something happen?"
Morana sighed, shaking her head. There was no point in telling her the story if he hadn't. Had he told Dante? Or had he omitted information again?
"Although," the woman mused, her dark eyes blinking in memory, "now that I think of it, Tristan did hurry back out when he saw the SUV going again."
Morana watched Amara take a sip from her glass, and satisfied that it was fine, she took a sip from hers. The sweet, cool drink washed down her throat, tingling her senses as she sat straighter, her eyes on the other woman.
"You're incredibly brave, you know," Amara spoke in that hushed voice of hers, a smile on her lips.
Morana blinked in surprise, before feeling herself flush slightly. "Um, thank you, I guess."
The other woman chuckled at her awkward response, completely relaxed in the space. "Tristan is an intimidating man, all on his own. And he goes out of his way to intimidate you more. The fact that you spent the night alone at his house tells me a lot about you. Although being the only child of a man as reputed as your father... I don't know why I'm surprised. You're strong. I admire that."