The Debt Bride

Chapter Thirty-One

  Amy heard her morning alarm was when, Claire bustled around with an infectious energy. Tomorrow was Rhysand's birthday, and she was determined to make it special. Amy watched her sister-in-law with a mixture of admiration and curiosity as Claire laid out plans for the celebration.

"Amy," Claire said, her voice bright with excitement, "I've been thinking about Rhysand's birthday. He's not one for big parties, but I want to do something nice."

Amy smiled and thought of buying him a gift.

"what's your plan then?", Amy's words now filled with curiosity.

  Claire made a gesture that she doesn't know. Amy told her that she will buy some gift. Hearing this from Amy made Claire to jump.

"I'll prepare cake and we'll create our most valuable memory!", she exclaimed.

Amy nodded. She went out and walked along the streets, thinking what does he like?

  Amy spotted Gilbert hurrying down the sidewalk. Her heart quickened with a mix of curiosity and concern. She had often wondered about the incident at Melrose Cafe, the night that seemed to mark a turning point in Rhysand's demeanor.

When he was about to enter his house,

"You... you must be Gilbert!" Amy called out, stepping closer as he turned with surprise. His expression shifted from surprise to unease as Amy approached, her demeanor earnest yet determined.

"Can we talk for a moment?" Amy asked, her voice gentle yet insistent. Gilbert hesitated briefly, then nodded, stepping aside to a quieter corner of the sidewalk.

"I need to understand what happened at the cafe that night," Amy began, her eyes searching his face for answers. Gilbert shifted uncomfortably, a weight seeming to settle on his shoulders.

"It was me," Gilbert admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I was involved in something, something that led to trouble. Rhysand's father... he got caught in the middle. They asked me to do it. I had no other choice."

  Amy listened intently, her thoughts racing as she pieced together the fragments of information. The realization dawned on her—Rhysand's protective stance, his guarded emotions, all stemmed from a profound sense of responsibility and guilt.

Gilbert continued, his voice tinged with regret. "I never meant for any of this to happen. Rhysand... he's a. He's taken care of me, even after everything."

Amy's gaze softened, empathy flooding her heart. "He's been through so much," she murmured, more to herself than to Gilbert.

Gilbert nodded, his expression a mix of relief and apprehension. "It wasn't my choice. I was forced into it. There was someone—someone powerful—who threatened me, who made me do those things."

Amy's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest. "Who threatened you?"

"I don't know their identity," Gilbert admitted, his voice filled with frustration. "But Rhysand asked me to find out. He wants to get to the bottom of this, to uncover who is behind it all."

  As Gilbert spoke, Amy's mind raced, piecing together the fragments of the story. The cafe incident, the attack on Rhysand's father, the unknown puppet master pulling the strings—it all pointed to a deeper, more dangerous game than she had realized. Rhysand wasn't just a mafia leader; he was a man embroiled in a complex web of deceit and power struggles.

  Her thoughts drifted back to the moments she had shared with Rhysand, to his vulnerability and the silent strength he had shown despite his fears. She realized now that his world was far more treacherous than she had imagined, a constant battle against unseen enemies and hidden threats.

She bought him a tie and kept it inside her bag to hide it from Rhysand.

  Returning to the house, Amy found Rhysand in his study, surrounded by papers and maps, a look of intense concentration on his face. She hesitated at the doorway, unsure of how to broach the subject. He looked up, sensing her presence, and his expression softened slightly.

"Amy," he said, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of weariness. "Is everything alright?"

She nodded.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"Amy... shall we go out?", he asked looking so nervous.

She nodded with a warm smile. She waved a bye to Claire.

  The evening had cast a serene glow over the city, the streets bathed in the warm hues of twilight. Rhysand's sleek black car waited in the driveway, an emblem of quiet power and elegance. Amy approached it with a mixture of anticipation and unease, the events of the past days swirling in her mind.

  As she reached the passenger door, Rhysand was there, opening it for her with a practiced grace. She slid into the seat, the leather cool against her skin.

  The door closed with a soft click, cocooning her in the intimate space of the car. Rhysand walked around to the driver's side, his movements smooth and deliberate, every action charged with an underlying intensity.

  Once inside, he turned to her, reaching for her seatbelt. Amy's breath caught in her throat as he leaned closer, the scent of his cologne—a heady mix of cedarwood and spice—filling the air between them. His face was inches from hers, his eyes dark and unreadable. She could feel the heat of his body, the tension radiating from him like a palpable force.

"Let me," he said quietly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

  He grasped the seatbelt with one hand, the other gently brushing against her shoulder as he pulled it across her chest. His fingers lingered just a moment longer than necessary, the touch electric.

  Amy's heart pounded, her senses heightened by his proximity. She felt trapped, not by the car or the seatbelt, but by the intensity of his gaze, the unspoken emotions swirling between them. She could see the lines of tension etched on his face, the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that he tried so hard to conceal.

"There," he murmured, snapping the seatbelt into place with a decisive click.

  He withdrew slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. For a heartbeat, they were frozen in that moment, the air thick with unspoken words and simmering tension.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She didn't trust herself to say more, not when her emotions were so raw, so close to the surface.

  Rhysand nodded, his expression softening slightly. He started the car, the engine purring to life, and they pulled away from the mansion, the city lights stretching out before them. The silence in the car was heavy, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid.

  Amy stared out the window, trying to steady her racing thoughts. She had seen so many sides of Rhysand—his strength, his vulnerability, his pain—and now, sitting so close to him, she felt the full impact of their connection. It was a connection forged in fire, tempered by shared secrets and silent promises.

  As they drove through the city, the streets passing in a blur of light and shadow, Amy stole a glance at Rhysand.

  His profile was sharp, his focus unwavering, but she could see the tension in his grip on the steering wheel, the way his lips pressed into a thin line. He was a man at war with himself, battling his demons even as he tried to protect her from them.

  She wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap between them, but the words eluded her. Instead, she let the silence speak for her, a silent testament to the bond they were forging, one fraught with tension and unspoken understanding.

  In the quiet hum of the car, Amy realized that this journey was just as much about navigating the landscape of their emotions as it was about reaching their physical destination. They were both searching for something—closure, redemption, perhaps even love—and the path was as uncertain as the road ahead.

  But for now, they were together, bound by a seatbelt and a shared purpose, driving into the unknown with nothing but each other to hold on to. And in that moment, it was enough.