Page 52 of Arranged Devotion
Because that’s what Dad wanted, right?
If I made a scene about them, I’d only prove to my father that I couldn’t be trusted and wasn’t as perfect as I pretended.
Now I know for sure I’ve been used my whole life.
And I’m not going to do a damn thing about it.
That’s the part I can’t get past. I keep waking up in my father’s house and going in to work. I keep on doing my job, even knowing that I’m digging my own grave. My father keeps letting me do it too. He keeps putting the shovel in my hands.
I hardly notice the man who sits beside me. He’s in a short jacket, jeans, nice sneakers. I’m thinking about the mountain of work on my desk when the stranger leans closer and speaks, his voice tinged with a Russian accent.
“Pretty day today, isn’t it?”
I look over. He’s middle aged and lean. His hair is light with some graying streaks. I give him a polite smile. “Yeah, it’s a good one.”
“Perfect day for a pic-nic lunch, I think.” He exhales, stretching his back. “Do you eat out here often, Regan?”
I go still, smile plastered on my face. My head starts spinning. Do I know this guy? Am I forgetting him from somewhere? He knows me—he used my name—but I can’t place him at all.
“I’m sorry, do we know each other?”
“No, no, I’m being rude, I know. My name’s Max Baranov. It’s very nice to meet you.”
I don’t move a muscle. Panic hits a wailing pitch. I know that name, even if I’ve never met the man attached to it.
Max Baranov. Vera’s older brother.
We’ve never met before. My understanding is he’s significantly older, at least ten years or more. I can see the resemblance: same hair color, same sharp facial features.
But what terrifies me is his smile. It’s completely empty.
In high school, there were rumors about Max. He got kicked out for hurting someone, people whispered. He beat up a younger kid over some misunderstanding. He stabbed a girl for cheating on him. He stole, bribed a teacher, and brutally eviscerated a janitor. He was the devil, they whispered.
Vera didn’t talk about him, at least I never heard it.
“Oh, you’re…” I clear my throat, trying to act like this is normal. “Hi, Max. I’m Regan.”
“Yes, I know who you are. I know you very well. My sister speaks highly of you. You and Vera were in the same class, weren’t you?”
I dip my chin. I grip my salad bowl hard to keep my hands steady. “We weren’t close back then.”
“No, and I bet you’re even less close now.” His gaze is steady and unnerving. There’s no amusement in his eyes, no indication that he’s doing anything more than having a casual conversation with a boring and slightly disinteresting acquaintance.
“What can I do for you, Max?” I want this conversation over. If we weren’t in a very public place right now with lots of people nearby, I’d be afraid for my life.
But he wouldn’t murder me in front of a dozen witnesses, right?
Probably not?
“I have a gift for you, as it happens.” He pulls a plain manila envelope from his jacket and angles it toward me.
I don’t take it. “What’s that?”
“Let’s call it a dossier. Plus a thumb drive containing some interesting information.”
“Why are you giving me that?”
“Because your boyfriend—“ He cracks another fake smile. “Sorry, yourexboyfriend gave it to me, and I think you’ll find itveryinteresting.”
