"Who was she?"
The question slipped out before Amara could stop it.
Adrian glanced at her as they walked out of the building.
"Clara? An old connection."
"That's vague."
"That's intentional."
She crossed her arms.
"I don't like her."
That made him smile.
"You don't like anyone."
"I tolerate people."
"And me?"
Amara hesitated.
Big mistake.
Adrian noticed immediately.
"That's what I thought," he said softly.
She looked away.
"Don't change the subject."
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
He stopped walking.
So she had to stop too.
"You're jealous."
The words landed gently—
But they hit hard.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
He stepped closer.
Too close.
Again.
"Say it again," he murmured.
Her heart raced.
"I'm not jealous."
But her voice was softer now.
Less certain.
Adrian tilted his head slightly, studying her like he already knew the truth.
"Good," he said.
She blinked.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
Amara frowned.
That wasn't the reaction she expected.
"You're annoying."
"And you're lying."
She exhaled sharply—but there was no real anger in it.
Just frustration.
And something else.
Something dangerously close to…
Wanting him to care.