AMARA'S POV
I avoid Gabriel all morning. After waking tangled in his arms, I can't look at him.
He left coffee outside my door with a note: USCIS prep. 7 PM.
Professional. Distant. Like we didn't just sleep wrapped around each other.
At 7 PM, Gabriel has a list of questions.
Sit. He pats the couch.
I sit. Keep distance.
Immigration officers watch body language. Married couples sit closer. He slides over. Our legs touch.
My skin tingles. What's first?
Where did we meet?
Court. Mendoza case.
How did I propose?
We haven't discussed this.
Gabriel thinks. After a pro bono case. Italian restaurant. Romantic.
Who did you take there before?
His jaw tight
ens. My ex-fiancée. Five years ago. She left when she realized I care more about work.
Pain there. I don't push.
We need to learn each other. He hands me a notebook. Write everything. Then we quiz.
We write. I fill pages. Nigeria. Parents' death. America at thirteen. Law school.
Gabriel writes too. Neat. Precise.
Trade.
I read his: Mother: Elena, Brazilian immigrant. Father abusive. Mother suicide at fifteen. Harvard. Took over firm at twenty-five. No close friends.
My heart breaks.
Your parents died for your future, Gabriel says, reading mine.
Your mother died escaping her past.
Heavy silence.
We're both orphans, I say.
Yeah.
Maybe that's why this works.
His eyes drop to my lips. I stop breathing.
His phone buzzes. Security footage from the shooting. Can't identify shooter. Professional.
So we're no closer.
No. Gabriel looks at his notes. Your favorite color is blue. But you wear gray.
Blue reminds me of my mother. Gray is safer.
You don't have to be safe with me.
Don't I?
Tension unbearable.
My coffee order, I say quickly.
Oat milk and honey.
I stare. How did you know?
I notice things. At court. You always get the same thing.
You've been watching me?
I study my opponents.
Is that all I am?
No answer.
We should practice physical contact, Gabriel says. For the interview.
He takes my hand. Laces our fingers.
Electricity.
Chemistry. His thumb traces my palm. We need this to look natural.
This feels dangerous.
Good dangerous or bad dangerous?
I don't know yet.
He pulls me closer. Tucks my hair behind my ear. Fingers trail down my neck.
I shiver.
They'll ask about our first kiss. We need a story.
When?
Night I proposed. Under the stars.
His hand cups my face. We should practice. Make sure we look believable.
Practice kissing?
Just once.
I lean closer. Once.
His lips an inch from mine.
His phone rings.
We spring apart.
Emergency at the firm. I have to go. He grabs his jacket. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone.
You're scaring me.
Good. Stay scared. Stay safe.
He leaves.
I'm alone in the huge penthouse.
Heart pounding. Lips still tingling from a kiss that never happened.
I lock the door. Check all the windows. The blinds are still closed.
But I feel watched.
At 11 PM, my phone buzzes.
Unknown number: Almost kissed him. So close. But you're smart to be scared, Amara. Gabriel destroys everyone he loves. Ask his mother. Oh wait... you can't. -A Friend
My blood runs cold.
I call Gabriel. Voicemail.
Text him: Someone just threatened me. Referenced your mother.
No response.
I'm alone. Scared. In a penthouse that suddenly feels like a trap.
Another text: He's not coming back tonight. I made sure of it. Sweet dreams, Amara. Hope you don't sleepwalk to those big windows. The fall from the 42nd floor is quite fatal. -A Friend
I back away from the windows. Even with blinds closed.
Call Sophie. Voicemail.
Call Gabriel again. Nothing.
I'm trapped. Alone. With someone who knows exactly where I am.
The lights flicker.
Then go out completely.
I scream.