Page 19 of A Forbidden Arrangement
The diner glows at the corner, a soft blue light spilling through the window. The bell over the door jingles as I push it open, the smell of bacon grease greeting me. Connie is already behind the counter, hair teased high, lipstick a little crooked, but her smile bright as ever.
“Early again?” She raises a brow with a look of concern.
Heat creeps up my neck. “Habit, I guess.”
She waves a rag at me and steps aside to grab a stack of menus. As she passes, her hand lands on my arm in a brisk pat. Quick, practical, but the contact lingers in my chest long after she moves away.
I tie on my apron, tuck the order pad in my pocket, and start wiping down tables. The door swings open again, and Amanda, one of the other waitresses, breezes in with a bright smile. “Morning.”
“Morning.” I’ll never be able to express just how much it means to me that these two women have welcomed me into their lives.
Amanda winks, moving past me to grab a pot of coffee.
The diner starts to wake around us. Boots scuff across the floor, chairs scrape, voices rise and fall in easy waves. Farmers with sunburned necks. Truckers with heavy-lidded eyes. Families crowding into booths, kids banging spoons on the table.
I pour coffee, write down orders, balance plates up my arm the way Connie showed me. The work is busy, but a good busy. The kind that keeps my hands moving and my mind quiet.
For a while, I almost forget the weight pressing down on me, and I almost feel normal.
“Sweetheart, look at you. Only here for a few months, and you fit right in.”
The words come from one of the regulars, an older man with a wide-brimmed hat. He’s retired now, but his weathered hands tell the story of the years he’s worked in the town’s plant, where they manufacture car parts. As the only decent-paying job, more than half of the people here either work or have worked there.
He winks as I set his plate down. I smile, thank him, and turn back toward the counter. My chest feels full in a way that almost hurts.
The diner quiets in the lull between lunch and dinner, the clink of silverware fading as the last customers leave. I wipe down a booth, rag moving in small circles, when the confident voice of a news anchor cuts across the silence.
“Breaking news. A major business deal was announced this afternoon…”
My head lifts before I can stop it. The screen above the counter flickers, colors bleeding together before sharpening into a face I know too well.
My stomach drops. His smile is the same as it was in the alley, wide and slick, full of teeth. The same smile that haunts my dreams.
The anchor’s voice carries on, naming him. Elliot Marlowe. Heir to Marlowe Corporation. The words scrape raw against my nerves. The room seems to sway, tables stretching farther away, Connie’s movements at the counter blurring.
Then another image cuts through the haze.
A crush of cameras, lights flashing, and for a second, I don’t recognize him. Then, his clear gray eyes catch mine through the screen, and my stomach plunges.
Xander.
Smiling beside Elliot Marlowe, their hands clasped like men who’ve known each other a long time.
The rag twists hard in my fist, fabric biting deep until my knuckles burn. Heat tunnels up the back of my neck. My vision prickles, narrowing, darkening at the edges.
I stumble through the kitchen’s swinging door, my shoulders clipping the frame. The air in the back is hotter and suffocating. My fingers fumble for my apron strings, but they slip free again and again. My hands shake too hard to knot anything.
Xander’s smile won’t leave me. The palm of his hand in Elliot’s. My mind claws at the image, desperate for sense.
The mouth that kissed me. The arms that made me feel safe. All of it tainted now, standing shoulder to shoulder with a killer.
My stomach turns at the thought that they’re connected. That Xander knows Elliot is chasing me.
The safety he wrapped around me burns away, leaving nothing but fear.
Chapter 10
Xander
