Chapter 13: 11- Burning Bridges

The soft knock came again. This time, I heard him call out. "Amara ."

I didn’t respond.

A few seconds later, the door opened without my permission. Of course, it was him. Lucifer never cared much for boundaries I guess . He stepped inside, his presence filling the room, and closed the door behind him.

I kept my gaze out the window, refusing to look at him.

“Are you going to ignore me all night?” His voice was calm, but I could hear the edge of irritation.

I didn’t answer.

He sighed and crossed the room, stopping a few feet behind me. I could feel his eyes on my back, but I refused to turn around.

“amara ,” he tried again, this time softer. “I—” He hesitated, a rare moment of uncertainty in his usually confident demeanor. “I was a little upset this morning.”

I stiffened but still didn’t look at him.

“I don’t know why,” he admitted. “Maybe it was the way you mentioned your Vincenzo . Or the way you walked out without saying much. It—it bothered me.”

Finally, I turned to face him, leaning back against the window sill. “So, you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder all day because you were… upset?” My tone was sharper than I intended.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration showing. “I wasn’t trying to. I just—” He paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t know how to deal with this, with… you.”

His confession caught me off guard. For a moment, my anger wavered, replaced by a flicker of something softer. But I wasn’t ready to let go of my frustration just yet.

“You’re sometimes just...., you know that?” I said, crossing my arms.

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, stepping closer.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be if you weren’t so insufferable,” I retorted.

His lips quirked into a smirk. “You’re not exactly easy to deal with yourself, mi luna.”

The nickname, laced with both sarcasm and affection, made my heart skip a beat.

The tension between us crackled like a live wire. He was standing so close now, his scent—an intoxicating mix of something dark and earthy—filling the air between us.

“You could’ve just said you were upset instead of acting like a child,” I said, my voice softer now but still laced with frustration.

“And you could’ve not ignored me ,” he countered, his voice low, his eyes locked on mine.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence was heavy, but not unbearable. It was charged, filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

His gaze dropped to my lips, and I felt my breath hitch.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding against my ribs. “Lucifer—”

Before I could finish, he leaned in, his hand brushing against my arm as he tilted his head closer. The proximity sent a jolt through me, but just as quickly, I pulled back.

“No,” I said firmly, though my voice wavered. “You don’t get to just... do this.”

He stopped, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought he might argue, but instead, he stepped back, giving me space.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “I don’t.”

The honesty in his voice disarmed me, but I didn’t let it show.

“I’m going home,” I said abruptly, pushing past him and heading for the door.

“Moon —”

I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. If I stayed, I wasn’t sure what would happen, and I wasn’t ready to find out.  What ? Moon ?

The drive to my place was a blur. My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles white against the leather. The city lights flickered past, but I barely noticed them.

My emotions were a storm—anger, frustration, confusion, and something else I didn’t want to name.

When I finally reached my place, I parked the car and sat there for a moment, staring at the empty street.

Why did he have to be so infuriating? So... complicated?

I sighed, resting my head against the steering wheel. Tonight, I needed to be alone, to sort through the chaos in my mind. Because no matter how much he frustrated me, I couldn’t deny the pull I felt toward him. And that terrified me more than anything.

I was still standing in her office room . My fists clenched at my sides, and my breath came in uneven bursts. She had left me there, seething and undone.

Damn it.

She had every right to be angry, but so did I—or at least, that’s what I told myself. The truth? I had no claim to her. We weren’t together. Not officially. Not yet. But that thought did nothing to quell the jealousy that had been simmering since morning.

The way she said his name—Enzo—and the casual way she mentioned missing him... it had gnawed at me all day.

I exhaled sharply and turned on my heel, heading back to my penthouse.

The heavy double doors closed behind me with a dull thud, sealing me in the sanctity of my domain. The living room was bathed in soft amber light .

The modern decor—a blend of black marble, leather, and steel—felt suffocating tonight. Even the panoramic view of the city’s glittering skyline couldn’t distract me from the chaos in my mind.

I headed straight for the bathroom, shedding my suit jacket and tie as I went. The shower's cold water hit me like a jolt, but it wasn’t enough to douse the fire inside. My thoughts were a relentless loop: the flash of anger in her eyes, the way her lips trembled with restraint, the heat that had sparked between us when I leaned in...

I had almost kissed her.

Almost.

I shut off the water and grabbed a towel, scrubbing it over my hair and face with more force than necessary.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I thought this was attraction. A passing fancy, something I could control. But now... it was something darker, deeper. Obsession.

I didn’t bother with anything elaborate for dinner—just a simple steak and a glass of red wine. But even that felt like a chore.

I was halfway through my meal when my phone buzzed.

I picked it up, glancing at the message.

“Michael is dead.”

I stilled, the fork halfway to my mouth. The words seemed to echo in my mind.

Michael. Dead.

I wasn’t shocked—men like him always met an untimely end. But my mind immediately went to Amara. Her offhand comment about how we wouldn’t have a chance to sign the deal with him... how she had known.

Coincidence? Maybe.

But something about it didn’t sit right.

Leaving my dinner untouched, I made my way to the most secure part of my place : my private room.

The door required a retinal scan, a voice command, and a code only I knew. It slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the beating heart of my operations.

The room was massive, its walls lined with sleek, black panels housing countless servers and data modules. A 3D projection screen dominated the center, its holographic interface capable of displaying real-time updates from anywhere in the world.

The floor itself was an innovation—embedded with sensors that responded to my movements, pulling up relevant data as I walked. To my right, a series of high-tech workstations hummed softly, their screens flickering with encrypted streams of information.

This room was more than a command center; it was an extension of me.

I stepped forward, and the system came to life. The projection screen lit up, displaying a map of the city. I tapped a few commands, pulling up data feeds from the area where Michael’s building had burned.

I narrowed my search to the time of the fire. Surveillance footage, traffic cams, satellite imagery—it was all there.

But she wasn’t.

Not before. Not during. Not after.

Amara was nowhere near the scene.

I leaned back, my hands gripping the edge of the workstation. It didn’t make sense. How could she have known Michael would die if she wasn’t involved? Was it some kind of intuition? A coincidence? Or was there something more to her that I didn’t know?

The thought unsettled me.

I tapped another command, pulling up her location history for the past 24 hours. The data showed her usual movements—her office, a brief trip to the city center—but nothing unusual.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was connected to this somehow.

I shut off the system and stood in the center of the room, the soft hum of the servers the only sound.

Was I overthinking this?

Or was she hiding something from me?

My fists clenched at my sides. I hated this uncertainty, this gnawing doubt. But most of all, I hated the way she made me feel—vulnerable, uncertain, and completely out of control.

As I left the room and returned to the quiet  atmosphere , one thing was clear: I needed to know the truth.Whatever it was.

Because if there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was being kept in the dark.