Her self-esteem got a bit better but it was still on shaky ground.
“I don’t know why you’d spend time with me, Dante,” she’d told him one day. “I’m young and damaged and nobody. I have scars and a broken voice and my head isn’t right. You’re the heir to the Outfit and have your pick of people. Sometimes, I feel like you’ll open your eyes and see you have better choices and I’ll be left alone.” To that, Dante had dragged her close and kissed her hard, reassuring her that she was it for him.
Things were getting better all around. Vin was recovered and initiated into the soldier ranks. Her mother had less of a workload because the Maroni’s had finally hired another housekeeper to split. Nerea was growing on her, with her devil-may-care attitude and kind smiles to Amara. Amara had actually begun to really like her, and respect her for being a lone woman in an Outfit of men.
Just yesterday, her half-sister had come to her with a beautiful pair of boots.
“What’s this for?” Amara had asked, smiling at the gift.
Nerea had shrugged with a small grin. “I’ve never had a sister so let me spoil you, okay?”
Yeah, she was growing on her, alright.
The only people Amara had gone out of her way to avoid had been Mr. Maroni and his cousin, Leo.
This was why when the messenger came calling her to Mr. Maroni’s office, it punched her in the chest.
It was her birthday, and Mr. Maroni had called her to the mansion.
Amara gulped as the messenger, a maid at the main house, left after giving her the message. She doubted he wanted her presence to wish her a happy adulthood day. In all the time she had lived on the compound, something like this – a messenger coming from the mansion to call someone from the staff quarters – had never happened.
Palms clammy, Amara felt the beginnings of an anxiety attack, a pit opening in her stomach, and breathed out slowly, counting backward in her head as Dr. Das had told her. Straightening her dress, Amara wrapped a scarf around her neck and put on boots, before following the maid up the hill.
“Did he say why he wanted to see me?” Amara asked, unable to contain her nerves.
The maid looked back at her before continuing. “No. He just asked me to call you.”
“By my name?” Amara asked, and had her voice been normal, it would have escalated to a high pitch.
“Yeah,” the maid left her at the entrance. “He’s in his study.”
Amara knew the room since she’d been in the mansion helping her mother many times. Taking a deep breath in, Amara headed into the mansion, turning right from the huge foyer, each step she took closer to the study sinking her stomach to her knees.
The wooden door seemed foreboding as she stood before it, gathering the courage to knock.
“Come in,” came the heavy voice as she rapped twice on the door.
Pushing it open, Amara looked at the intimidating man sitting behind a huge desk, and older version of Dante, his dark eyes coming to her. His face slashed in a brief smile that Amara didn’t like, not one bit.
“Ah, Amara,” he said as though he’d known her all his life. “Have a seat. And please close the door behind you.”
With a sweaty palm, Amara closed the door, and quietly sat down in the chair before the desk.
Mr. Maroni ran a thick hand through his prominent salt-and-pepper beard, and watching him closely, Amara could see where Dante got some of his features from. His mother must have been a beauty too.
“How are you doing?” he asked pleasantly. Too pleasantly.
“I’m fine, Mr. Maroni,” Amara spoke as evenly as she could, pinching the inside of her wrist to keep her nerves at bay.
“Very good,” he nodded. “Your mother tells me you’ll get your graduation degree this month?”
Amara nodded but stayed silent.
“Have you thought about what you’d like to pursue as a career?” he asked, leaning his elbows on his desk, the picture of sincerity. God, he was good.
“Psychology,” Amara informed him, her voice thankfully steady.
“Any specialization?”