Page 35 of Arranged Devotion
“This.” She gestures between us. “We’re going to meet for the first time when my father arranges it. As far as I’m concerned, we’re strangers. Do you understand?”
“I love roleplay. Will you spank me too?”
“How about I put on heels and crush your balls?”
“Oh baby, don’t tease me. I’m trembling.”
“Sick fuck. Where are we going?”
“Right this way, my darling wife.” I release her wrist and start walking. I don’t look back because I know she’s following. Regan’s a lot of things, but she isn’t stupid.
We really do need to talk.
I take her a few blocks south to a seedier, less touristy block. A small Greek diner is tucked in the corner of an old crumbling brick building. Inside is relatively clean, though very outdated; the place is beginning to fill up, but I grab a booth in the corner. Regan slips onto the seat across from me reluctantly, placing her bag beside her.
The waitress comes over with coffee and practically drops it on the table. Some slurps over the rim. “You’re back. Great.” She puts a hand on her hip. “What do you want, Liam?”
“Hey, Hal, you look great.” I beam at her joyously. “I was thinking the usual.”
“Great, a bowl of Italian Wedding soup with some extra spit.” She cuts her eyes to Regan. “You with this idiot?”
“Um, unfortunately,” she says, bemused.
“Good luck with that. Want anything to eat? Spit free, I promise.”
“Just coffee, thanks.”
Hal storms off. I watch her go trying not to squirm with giddiness. God, I love it when people remember me.
“What’d you do to her?” Regan asks.
“Got in a fight one night when she was on duty.” I raise my eyebrows. “There was a lot of blood. It was fun.”
She rubs the bridge of her nose. “Are you always like this?”
“Charming? Yes.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but smartly decides not to. Instead, she takes out her phone and sets a ten minute timer. “When this goes off, I’m out of here, so you better start talking.” She sits back with her arms crossed.
Where the hell do I even begin? Hal returns with more coffee, which gives me a moment to think. When we’re alone again, I put my hands on the table, palms-up, in a gesture of peace.
“This wasn’t my decision,” I say, then grimace. “Well, not all my decision, anyway.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I wastechnicallygiven the option?—“
“I fucking knew it.” She almost knocks over her mug as she gestures wildly at me. “You knew the whole time, didn’t you?! And you didn’t say a word about it before you?—“
“Regan, I swear, that first night I had no idea.”
She hesitates but only for long enough to process.
Then she looks even more pissed.
“But you knew the second time! You bastard! You could’ve warned me, but you didn’t. Instead, you let me… you let me…” Her cheeks turn bright red and she squirms in her seat.
“I let you fuck me? I let you get off? Enjoy yourself? Have some fun for once in your life?”
