Chapter 8: The Man Behind the Mask

The ride home from the gala was tense. Amira sat with her hands folded in her lap, replaying Victor Blackwell's words in her mind.

"Be careful who you trust. Especially your husband."

She stole a glance at Jordan, who stared out the window, his jaw tight. The man was impossible to read. He had barely spoken to her since Victor's cryptic warning.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Who is Victor Blackwell to you?"

Jordan didn't react immediately, but when he spoke, his voice was controlled. "No one you need to concern yourself with."

"That's not an answer," she pressed.

Jordan turned his head, his blue eyes cold. "It's the only answer you're getting."

Frustration bubbled inside her. "So I'm just supposed to live with a man I know nothing about?"

He smirked slightly, though there was no amusement in his expression. "That was the deal, wasn't it?"

Amira clenched her fists. "And what happens when I find out something you don't want me to know?"

Jordan leaned in slightly, his presence overwhelming even in the dim car. "Then I guess we'll have a problem, won't we?"

A shiver ran down her spine.

For the first time, she wondered—had she made a deal with the devil?

---

A New Reality

Back at the mansion, Amira kicked off her heels the moment they stepped inside. The grand foyer, the crystal chandelier, the polished floors—it was all beautiful, but it wasn't home.

Jordan loosened his tie. "You handled yourself well tonight."

She folded her arms. "Was that a compliment?"

"Don't get used to it." He smirked before heading toward the stairs.

She stared after him, frustration twisting in her chest. He was impossible. One minute, he was cold and distant. The next, he was protecting her from people like Victor.

She wanted to understand him.

But maybe understanding Jordan Carter was a dangerous thing.