Page 78 of A Devious Arrangement
The thought sits heavy in my chest, calling out the lie. Bash has done everything he’s promised, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m beginning to depend on him.
I’d lost my mother and nanny on the same day, both mother figures vanishing in the same second. I told myself from that point on I wouldn’t rely on anyone else, and the only person who’s been able to make me break that promise has been Nikolai.
Which makes it all the more surprising that the one who’s broken through is the youngest Everette. He’s the last person I should trust, but I do.
It’s easy to navigate my way through the hall, already familiar with where I’m going from the previous time. Knowing I’m soclose to getting the item I need to free me and Nikolai from the Salvatores and get our lives back uncoils the knot that’s been in my stomach since the second we found out about the debt. I should be ecstatic, but the sensation is tainted by the fact this marks the end of Bash’s and my deal.
I turn into the small room. The same floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the wall, and the table stands proudly in the middle. My shoes freeze in place like they’re cemented to the floor.
Everything I wanted is about to happen; all I have to do is open the case and grab the Kokoshnik Tiara. This needs to happen—my brother’s happiness depends on it. Hell, our safety depends on it. So, why am I hesitating?
Actually, there’s nothing that says my deal with Bash is over just because we fulfilled my end. He still needs someone to trick his brothers, right? At least for the next bit. At least until I can sort out how I’m feeling and let him go.
“What are you thinking about, Princess?” Bash’s voice is a low purr, his breath brushing against my exposed neck.
Startled, I stumble forward, but he catches me around the waist before I can fall. “Easy there. It’s just me.”
The relief I feel at his touch tells me just how screwed I really am. He called me his addiction. What exactly does that make him?
“Let go of me. We’re supposed to be sneaking.”
Bash snorts and gestures to the table. His eyes gleam with mischief when he says, “After you.”
“Infuriating bastard,” I murmur under my breath.
“What was that?” he asks with a soft laugh.
I internally roll my eyes and step up to where the glass case still sits in the same spot. I have the code; all I need to do is grab the item and get the hell out of here. Preferably with all myfingers and toes intact. Someone’s covered it with a black velvet cloth, and tingles shoot up my arm as I reach to remove it.
Something isn’t quite right about this entire thing. Why would anyone go out of their way to cover the tiara that’s been sitting here since before I was born?
There’s a slight shake in my fingers as I grasp the corner of the fabric and lift it. Dread slams into my stomach with enough force to make me choke.
There, in the center of the glass case, is a piece of card stock that says, “Kokoshnik Tiara moved for cleaning.”
My head shakes from side to side, quickening as reality sinks in. I was so close. I wobble on my feet and catch myself with a palm on the table before I can topple over.
“What is it?” Bash asks hesitantly. He’s still behind me, but he’s not touching me anywhere.
I turn to him, opening my mouth and then closing it before trying to speak again. “It’s no…n…not here. The tiara’s not here. They…” My voice cracks. “They moved it.”
Pressure builds in my chest as I struggle to take in a breath against the weight of reality.
I don’t believe this is happening. It should be here. It has to be here.
“Anastasia.” Bash grips my arms and shakes me.
His gaze is on me, eyes full of something I can’t read as they search mine. “I’ve been calling you.”
I swallow hard. “It’s not here.” A strangled sob escapes from the back of my throat, and I collapse into his chest. I want to hide inside of him and pretend like this isn’t real.
Bash guides me back so that he can see my face, he looks torn apart as he watches me.
He cups my cheeks and brushes my tears away. “I’m so sorry. If I’d realized…”
I sniff. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
His brows pinch together, and his forehead touches mine. “I fucked up. I never want to see you cry.”
