Page 97 of Arranged Control
Because if I’m right, I know exactly who Molchanie is.
Chapter 31
Alina
“Iknow it’s going to be hard, but please wait here.” I lean across the car and kiss Seamus on the cheek. “Can you do that for me?”
“The last thing I want is to leave you alone right now.”
“I won’t be alone. My father’s place is protected.”
“I’m not sure anywhere is protected fromher.” He touches my leg, and I can see the tension in his face. He wants to make sure I’m safe, but I need this right now.
“Please, Seamus. For me.”
He nods sharply. “Thirty minutes. Then I’m coming in after you.”
That’s not ideal, but I don’t argue. I kiss him again before leaving the car and hurrying up the front steps to my father’s house. I use my personal code to get through the gate and into the front foyer, slightly surprised that it still works. Men are lurking, tired-looking guards, and they give me surprised looks as I march back toward my father’s study.
Word of my arrival should be making its way back to him. Which means I don’t have much time.
I start tearing the place to shreds.
This room was sacred when I grew up. The thought of entering my father’s space without his express permission would’ve been impossible. I was always such a good girl back then, and I never would’ve broken his rules, not even if it meant saving my own life.
Now I’m starting to understand the cracks in my family.
The little spaces where I’ve fallen through.
I start at the bookshelf. I’m looking for one specific photograph. It’s a picture I haven’t noticed in a very long time. I rifle through books, riffling the pages at random. I find old money, ticket stubs, and a few torn pieces of paper, but not the picture.
Next, I go through his desk. It’s like desecrating an important crypt. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’m moving in a waking dream. I can’t stop myself, not even if I really tried. I flip through papers, over files, across junk, and still there’s nothing. I sit back, glancing at the door, my heart racing into my throat. If I don’t find it before my father gets here?—
One last idea.
I go to the picture frames. It’s not in any of them, at least not outwardly. Mostly they show my father, my brother, and a few of me, alongside important members of the family and a few powerful politicians.
I pop out the backs and check to see what’s hiding behind them.
There are more old photos. Pictures I haven’t seen in ages. A few show me and Taras when we were little kids. I was such a baby and Taras was a sullen teenager. It’s no wonder we’ve never been close. He basically helped raise me.
I’m about to give up when I try the last frame. It’s all the way at the top, almost out of reach. I hear footsteps in the hallway, and my hands are shaking as I slip out the back and find an old, faded image.
The photo is of two people, a man and a woman. He’s got dark hair and a wicked smile. I recognize my father instantly. It’s winter wherever they are. His arm is across the woman’s shoulder. She’s nearly his height with blonde hair and deep blue eyes, a lot like mine. I can see so much of myself in her: the same nose, the same jaw, the same cheeks.
“What the hell are you doing, Alina?!” My father stands in the doorway, staring at me with his mouth hanging open. Rage fills his face, and his forehead turns bright red. “You know damn well you aren’t allowed in here without my permission.”
I can’t take my eyes off the photo. “This is her, isn’t it?” I have to lean back against his desk or else I’m going to fall over. I feel sick. My legs go weak and my stomach twists. “You knew, didn’t you? This whole time, you knew?”
His rage stalls. He comes into the office and shuts the door behind him. “I don’t have any clue what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me.” I keep staring at the woman in the picture. I’ve only ever seen her in this picture and only once when my father was drunk years back. He took it from the backing and told me to take a long look at it. There were tears in his eyes. I’d never seen him that emotional before, which is why the moment stands out.At the time, I just assumed it was the drink making him act that way.
“Who do you think you’re talking to, girl?”
“I spoke with her tonight. I saw her face.”
His face pales. The anger completely drains away like leaves in the wind. “How did you find her?”
