Page 35 of A Devious Arrangement
I bring an armful of the premade cups to the counter and place them down lightly. The woman, Shirly, smiles at me. She’s older, maybe in her mid to late sixties. Her hair is a mix of curly white and gray that she’s pulled back into a clip.
“You should really eat something healthier. A girl like you can’t be eating things like this.” She looks me up and down. “You’re even smaller than the last time.”
Even though she’s admonishing me, her voice is filled with warmth and genuine concern. More like a grandma than a clerk.
She packs my things into a plastic bag and adds a few apples. “Take care of yourself.”
I smile. She makes it sound so simple. “I promise I will.”
“I’m serious, young lady. You don’t want old Shirly getting involved.”
“I’ll get groceries tomorrow. Don’t worry.”
“Make sure you get meat and vegetables. You can’t live off of noodles.” She points a thin finger at me. “You know I have a grandson about your age.”
This isn’t the first time she’s mentioned him, and I’ve learned better than to stick around. Last time, she got him on the phone and tried to set up a date. I’m not even sure how I got out of that, but I doubt I’ll be able to do it a second time.
I glance at my watchless wrist. “Sorry, it’s late. I’ve got to get home.”
“Fine, fine. I haven’t given up having you as a granddaughter.”
Her words feel like a warm hug as I exit. If only it didn’t require me to marry some unknown guy to make it a reality.
My sneakers are silent as I make my way down the sidewalk. The large oak trees lining the road and coming together in the center make it look like it belongs in a different world. We’re slightly out of the city, but even then, this magical place doesn’t belong. As a little girl, I loved it here. The way the apple trees blossomed in the spring and the lilac bushes filled the air with their soft scent. My chest tightens, knowing we should sell our place, but unfortunately, our father took out multiple liens on it, so even if we did, we wouldn’t see any money. No, we need to get the tiara to my grandmother so we can settle our debts.
That’s the only way to keep our lives the way they are.
My eyelids droop as I get closer to my house, exhaustion slowly taking over. I haven’t slept properly since that night I spent gambling. Every time I close my eyes, a pair of gray eyes look back at me.
The light I leave on in the hallway beckons me home. I hate entering into a dark house. I take the five steps up to my front door, only to have it swing open.
The bag of food I’d been carrying hits the ground as a scream catches in my throat.
Bash is standing in front of me, wearing a devilish smile.
“You know, you really should have better security.”
Chapter 17
Bash
“Get out!”Stasia grits through clenched teeth, pointing to the street. She’s alight with fire as she stomps up the stairs toward me. Fuck, she’s beautiful when she’s angry. Her hair’s pulled up in the tight bun she wears when she’s at the studio. I’d watched her for an hour as she danced with her eyes closed, her movements graceful with each turn. I wanted to go in, to lift her in my arms before she could stop me, but I knew that wasn’t the place to have the discussion we’re about to have. She ignored my texts on her way home, and I must be crazy because I got more excited with each one I sent. I texted her the entire way home.
She’s still pointing down the steps like I’m a dog that’s done something wrong, and I take my time looking her up and down. Her sculpted legs are hidden by loose pants, but it’s the jacket that catches my eye. Satisfaction courses through me. I knew it was a good idea to steal that sweater. If I saw her in it once again, I don’t know what I’d do. Probably track him down. Then I’d have to explain to my brothers why there’s a mess to clean up.
My lips curve up in a cocky smile, knowing damn well this will drive her insane. “Aw, your love language is glaring and threats. I can work with that.”
Stasia stomps past me into her house, and I grunt as her shoulder connects with my sternum. She looks like fire when she turns on me, hands flying up and jerking like she doesn’t know what to do with them.
“What do you want?” Each word is clipped, sharper than a knife.
“Want? I thought that was obvious.” I close the door behind me and shrug, my casualness a stark contrast to her frustration.
“Argh! I can’t take it anymore.” She’s alight. I wonder if she realizes that it’s passion, not anger.
Her eyes narrow, and her fists clench at her sides. Maybe not. She may really try to kill me.
It’s too bad for her that I’m enjoying this so much. My gaze travels from her feet to her mouth.
