Forbidden Attraction

16. Revealed

Amelia's POV:

The office was quiet as I made my way to my desk, still processing everything from the night before. My thoughts were tangled in confusion about Heath and the revelations about his family, yet there was a strange comfort knowing Laura had my back. I sighed, trying to focus on the day ahead, when something caught my eye—a bouquet of vibrant flowers sitting right on my desk.

I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the burst of color in the otherwise monotonous office. Roses, lilies, and delicate baby's breath intertwined in the bouquet, each flower looking freshly picked and carefully arranged. I hesitated before reaching for the small note nestled among the petals.

"Love, Heath."

I stood there, staring at the words, my heart racing as I reread the note. Love, Heath. The simplicity of it made my chest tighten. I hadn't even figured out what to say to him yet after the whole incident with Dexter, and now this? Was he trying to apologize, or... was this his way of taking things to the next level?

For a moment, I allowed myself to smile, touched by the gesture. It was sweet, but it also complicated things. I couldn't deny the pull I felt toward Heath, the genuine connection that was slowly forming. But now, knowing his family history and everything tied to Thomas... how was I supposed to move forward?

I picked up the bouquet, inhaling the soft, sweet fragrance of the flowers. They were beautiful, and for a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy the warmth they brought. But I couldn't ignore the nagging thoughts in the back of my mind.

What did this mean for us? Did Heath really like me, or was this just part of something larger I hadn't fully grasped yet?

Sighing, I carefully placed the bouquet back on the desk and glanced around the office. I had to talk to him, but this time, things needed to be clear—no more games or uncertainty. Whatever was between us, I had to understand where it was heading. And how much of it was about me.

Just as I was putting the bouquet back down, I heard footsteps approaching. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Dexter's presence always carried a certain weight in the air, like a storm brewing. I tensed, bracing myself for whatever he had to say this time.

He stopped next to my desk, eyeing the flowers with a smirk that made my skin crawl. "Well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Looks like someone's been busy playing little love games. Who knew you'd have time for all this romance with your oh-so-distracting Heath?"

I glanced up, trying to keep my expression neutral, though his words immediately put me on edge. He leaned in slightly, his eyes glinting with a mix of mockery and something else—something darker. "It's cute, really. But let's be real, Amelia. You're out of your depth. Do you even know who you're dealing with?" He nodded toward the bouquet. "Or are you just enjoying the attention while it lasts?"

I felt a surge of anger rise in my chest, but I kept my composure. "What's it to you, Dexter?" I said, my voice steady. "It's not like this has anything to do with you."

"Oh, but it does," he replied, his tone low and dangerous now. "Everything you do here affects me. And let me remind you—if you're getting cozy with someone like Heath, you're playing with fire. His family isn't exactly known for their kindness, in case you've forgotten."

I glared at him, refusing to let him get under my skin. "Thanks for the concern, but I can handle myself. And whatever's going on with Heath is none of your business."

Dexter chuckled, a cold, humorless sound. "Is that what you think? That you're in control here?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, "I know his type, Amelia. He'll chew you up and spit you out the moment he gets bored. Don't kid yourself thinking you're special."

His words stung, but I refused to let him see how much they affected me. Instead, I stood my ground, meeting his gaze head-on. "Maybe you're just bitter that I don't play by your rules, Dexter. But don't worry. I'm not as naive as you think."

Dexter's smirk faltered for a moment before he straightened up, his expression hardening. "We'll see about that," he muttered before walking away, leaving a bitter taste in the air as he disappeared down the hallway.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I couldn't let Dexter's words mess with my head. But as I stared at the flowers again, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling creeping into my thoughts. How much did I really know about Heath?

As I made my way to Dexter's office, gripping my assignment folder tightly, I mentally prepared myself for whatever snide remarks or cutting comments he had waiting for me. I knocked on his door, hoping this interaction would be quick and uneventful.

Just as I was about to hand him my assignment, a voice echoed down the hallway.

"Carson."

Instinctively, I turned toward the voice, but what surprised me most was that Dexter had also reacted at the same time. We both answered simultaneously, "Yes?"

A thick silence filled the space between us. My heart raced, and I saw the way Dexter's eyes slowly narrowed as he turned toward me. His expression shifted as if a puzzle piece had finally clicked into place. The confusion and anger I had come to expect from him weren't there. Instead, his gaze held something else—an unexpected mixture of realization and sadness.

"Carson," he repeated, this time softer, almost testing the word. His lips barely moved, but the weight of his realization hung heavy in the air. He blinked, his face momentarily blank before a deeper, more personal understanding settled in.

"You were already suspicious anyways," he muttered, almost to himself.

I froze, feeling like the ground had just fallen out from under me. The moment hung thick in the air. He knows. My chest tightened as I watched his expression, the wheels turning in his mind, piecing together the truth.

Carson Dexter. His name.

All this time, he had believed I was Amelia Lowell—someone entirely different. But now, he had put it together. He knew I wasn't who I had claimed to be. I was Amelia Carson.

My mind raced. I wasn't sure how much he knew or how long he had been putting the pieces together, but this revelation changed everything.

I waited for his next move, bracing for the usual burst of anger or mocking tone, but he didn't lash out. His face stayed blank, almost distant, like he was processing the truth in slow motion. There was a sadness in his eyes I hadn't expected to see—like the realization hit him harder than I could have anticipated.

"Amelia Carson," he finally said, the words heavy and deliberate, testing their weight on his tongue. "Why didn't you just tell me?" His voice wasn't sharp or accusatory, just... flat. As if he didn't know what to feel, or maybe he was feeling too much at once.

I swallowed, my throat dry, unsure of how to respond. The truth had always been so close to slipping out, but now that it was right in front of us, I didn't know what to say.

"Why?" I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head slightly, his expression still unreadable. "I had my suspicions for a while," he admitted quietly. "But I didn't want to believe it. Not until now."

My chest tightened further. The tension was palpable, but there was something deeper in the way he was looking at me—something I couldn't quite grasp.

"What happens now?" I asked, my voice trembling, afraid of what he would say.

Dexter stared at me for a long moment, then looked away, his face softening, the sadness lingering. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "But things are different now, aren't they?"

I hope he doesn't tell.