Chapter One: Heaven in His Lies
There were nights when Amara truly believed Marko loved her.
Like tonight.
Wrapped in the soft warmth of Egyptian cotton, her head rested against his chest, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers lazily traced circles on her back as the glow from the fireplace flickered across his chiseled features, bathing him in gold.
"You know I'd give you the world if I could," he whispered, lips brushing her forehead like a prayer. "You're the only woman who's ever made me feel like a man—not just a name, not just money."
She smiled, sleepy and intoxicated from the wine and his scent—amber, spice, and something unmistakably dangerous.
Marko always knew how to say the perfect thing.
"You don't need to give me the world," she murmured. "I just want peace."
He chuckled, deep and soft, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. "Then peace you shall have. No one will ever hurt you again, Amara. I swear it."
He kissed her slowly—so slowly that time seemed to fold in on itself. Every touch of his lips felt like a vow. Every movement, like a ceremony of love. He whispered things that made her heart stammer, made her believe in the version of him that wasn't complicated.
She wanted to believe it.
God, she needed to believe it.
After everything she'd survived, wasn't she allowed this kind of man—powerful, protective, intoxicating?
---
Hours Later
She stood in the kitchen in one of his shirts, humming to herself, making tea. Her skin still carried the imprint of his touch. Her heart, still blooming with foolish hope.
Her phone buzzed on the counter.
Zuri: "Babe. You still seeing that man? I heard something crazy today. Call me."
Amara frowned.
She hadn't told Zuri she was with Marko again.
She hadn't told anyone.
She walked back into the bedroom with the tea, but Marko wasn't there.
"Marko?" she called gently.
No answer.
She checked the bathroom. Empty.
The apartment was dead quiet.
She moved toward the balcony and stopped short.
There he was—shirtless, on a call, cigarette glowing between his fingers. His face was turned away, jaw tight, voice cold.
"She doesn't suspect a thing... No. If she starts asking questions, I'll handle it. Like I always do."
Amara froze.
The voice that had just promised her the world was now slicing through it.
"I don't care if she gets the job. Pull the plug. If the HR guy resists, double the payment. I want her back in my grip before she thinks she can stand."
Her blood turned to ice.
Was he talking about her?
No. He couldn't be. Not after tonight.
And then—
"She looks so peaceful when she sleeps. Shame she thinks it's real."
He laughed.
A low, wicked sound that echoed in her bones.
She stepped back, heart in her throat, the mug shaking in her hand. A small thud as it hit the floor.
The laugh stopped.
Marko turned, slowly, like a panther sensing a scent out of place. His eyes locked on hers through the glass door. That perfect, loving gaze... gone.
Now, it was something else. Something calculating.
Like a predator.
He opened the sliding door slowly, stepping into the room with calm precision.
"Did I wake you?" he asked sweetly.
Amara swallowed hard. "No, I… I just dropped the mug."
He smiled.
That same smile that had made her melt hours ago. Now it chilled her to the core.
"Let me clean it up, my love. Don't want you hurting yourself."
He walked past her, crouched beside the broken pieces, and gathered the shards like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And just as he stood, he touched her face gently.
"You should really lock your phone. Friends can be a little too curious."
Her stomach flipped.
He knew.
He knew about Zuri's message.
"You read my—?"
He placed a finger on her lips. "Shhh. Don't ruin this night."
And with that, he kissed her forehead… and smiled again.
As if he hadn't just shattered the illusion she built her hopes on.
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