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Page 88 of The Perfect Deception

“No, they never were. I didn’t have friends in high school. I was too smart to fit in. They used me back then to try to pass their classes and they’re us­ing me now to get re­venge.”

“Then why are you help­ing them?”

She met his gaze and re­fused to cower. “Be­cause in this in­stance, the truth is more im­por­tant than any­thing else. I’m not a part of them, I never was. And I’m not par­tic­i­pat­ing in their pay­back. I’m sim­ply pass­ing along in­for­ma­tion that you need to hear.”

“What about what I need to hear?”

The voice made her drop her teacup, which shat­tered in the saucer and spilled tea on the ta­ble be­fore drip­ping onto the Aubus­son rug. Mr. Man­del yelled for the maid, but Dina froze, star­ing at Adam.

He never vis­ited his dad. That was the only ben­e­fit she’d seen to meet­ing at his house. He wasn’t sup­posed to be here. Her body tem­per­a­ture plum­meted be­fore ratch­et­ing up and mak­ing her sweat. She opened her mouth, re­mained silent, and closed it again.

The woman en­tered with a rag and cleaned up the mess. Adam re­mained in the door­way, lean­ing against the jamb, feet and arms crossed. Only the tic of his jaw told Dina he wasn’t as re­laxed as he pre­tended to be.

When all traces of the spilled tea were gone, Mr. Man­del set­tled back in his chair and fo­cused his gaze on Dina, seem­ing to ig­nore Adam. If only it were that easy for her.

“Why?” Mr. Man­del asked.

Dina frowned, try­ing to keep her fo­cus on him. “Why, what?”

“Why are you giv­ing me this in­for­ma­tion?”

“Be­cause it’s the truth. Adam didn’t shirk his du­ties or lie. It wasn’t his fault on ei­ther of the ac­counts. She made it up. And with the proof, you can get him his job back.”

“What’s in it for you?”

The ques­tion came from Adam and she had to con­trol her breath­ing be­fore she an­swered. “Noth­ing.”

Mr. Man­del was star­ing at her like she was a brand new species of in­sect. She re­fused to squirm.

“Thank you for bring­ing this to me,” Mr. Man­del said. “Can I get a copy of these texts?”

“You can have them. I don’t ever want to see them again.” She sent him the screen­shots and when he con­firmed re­ceipt, she deleted them from her phone. “If you’ll ex­cuse me, I have to go. Thank you for the tea and I’m sorry about the mess.”

As she passed through the door­way, Adam grabbed her arm, but she yanked it away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Dina.”

Hear­ing her name on his lips was like a knife through her chest. With­out wait­ing for him to say any­thing else, she rushed out the door and drove away.

“What the hell did you do?” Adam shouted to his fa­ther as he watched Dina leave him—again. Dammit. He’d set this whole thing up so he’d been the one to leave. And now his fa­ther had in­ter­fered. The fa­mil­iar hol­low feel­ing filled his chest and bands of pres­sure squeezed, mak­ing him pic­ture an empty bag with a tie around it, slowly squeez­ing all the air out of it.

“What didIdo?” his fa­ther asked. “There you go again, blam­ing all your prob­lems on ev­ery­one but your­self. Why don’t you ask your­self that ques­tion?”

His fa­ther strode out of his mother’s par­lor, into his of­fice and grabbed a bot­tle of scotch off the side­board. Adam hated this room al­most as much as his mother’s par­lor, ex­cept he’d en­ter this one. He fol­lowed his fa­ther and watched him pour a fin­ger­ful into a Glen­cairn tum­bler and toss it back. He could al­most feel the burn in his own throat, but he shook his head. He wasn’t drink­ing. Not un­til he got an­swers from his fa­ther.

“What was Dina do­ing here?”

“I be­lieve you over­heard at least part of what she said. She told me she had some­thing to tell me.”

“And you just hap­pened to in­vite her over right be­fore the time you’d told me to ar­rive?”

“Two birds, one stone.”

“What the hell is that sup­posed to mean?” Adam paced the room, too ag­i­tated to sit still.

“It means you need to fix things with Dina and she was go­ing to be here.”




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