Read The Arrangement 18 Online
Authors: H. M. Ward
The Arrangement 18
THE ARRANGEMENT
Vol. 18
H.M. Ward
H.M. WARD PRESS
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by H.M. Ward
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.
H.M. WARD PRESS
First Edition: Feb. 2015
ISBN:
9781630350659
Sean towers above me, his toned body backlit by the chandelier hanging overhead. If he’d said anything else, I would have thought he was an angel in that moment. Repeating the phrase, he kneels down and whispers, “You shouldn’t have come.”
There’s not a drop of strength left in my body. I can’t fathom why Sean answered the door in the first place. Where’s Jeeves or whatever they call him? He’s Constance’s right arm. That guy was supposed to take me to the craziest Ferro of them all. That would have worked. I had to choose a side, and it’s clear that I didn’t pick Sean.
Even so, Sean moves closer, trailing his fingers along my temple, and smearing through the blood staining my skin. Those blue eyes pin me in place. I can’t move, or speak. I can’t tell him why I’m here or what I intended to do, although I suspect that he already knows. Those luscious lips of his are smooth and his jaw isn’t locked tight.
I must be delirious. Why isn’t he mad?
He whispers again, “Why do you do this to me? It’s like you decided to make my life a living hell from day one.”
That’s rich, I made his life hell. “Are we talking proximity or prostitution? Because I sure as hell never thought I’d be this close to a Ferro, or spread my legs for one, ever again.” I’m taunting him, pressing buttons that will set him off. I can’t help it, my defenses are up.
Sean makes a deep sound in the back of his throat and cocks his head to the side. “Irony.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
“Stop speaking like a hillbilly. You know how lusty that makes me.” Sean’s lips twitch as if he’s trying not to laugh.
He should be mad, but he’s not. I don’t get it.
Holding up a finger, I wave it between us and then press it to his nose. Those cobalt eyes remain locked on mine, ignoring my touch. “Boop.”
“Oh God. Was this your plan? To come to the mansion and boop my mother on the nose?” He laughs, amused for real. Sean shakes his head, like I’m a pathologically needy black hole—I suck everyone and everything into my mess of a life, if they get too close. Sean’s been sitting on the edge, carefully balancing himself—until now. His demeanor shifts as he scoops me up into his arms.
“Where are we going?” I thought this was his bedroom.
Sean’s hand covers my lips, silencing me. “Shhh. I don’t want them to hear you.” With that, Sean turns on his heel and retreats, taking me from this room, and carries me into a darkened hallway.
My eyelids feel like lead and I can’t help it, they droop as my cheek falls against his chest. I finally ask, “You’re not mad?”
Sean is quiet and then smiles. “No.”
“I came to your mother instead of you. You know what that means. Right?” I should probably shut up now, but I can’t.
He nods once, carefully, as he pads down hall after hall. We pass no one, which is odd. No maids, no servants of any kind.
Sean sucks in air and glances down at me. “I did the same thing, thinking it would save you. I can only imagine what you thought the Ice Queen could do. Mother has a way of overpromising and under delivering. For example, she promised me a particular name the night of Trystan’s concert, and I promised her something in return.”
His voice trails off as we come to a set of massive wooden doors. They tower above us and each panel is carved intricately and laced with iron. There’s iron lattice work, scrolls, and twisting decorative bars.
I reach out, sliding the pads of my fingers over a piece of metal. “Was this on purpose? All the iron? An old lady told me that Ferro means iron in Italian.”
Sean smiles. “I’m not certain. Mother didn’t elaborate whether it was a preference for the Old World style or family pride. Either way, I’m glad you like it, because my rooms are nothing but wood and iron.”
My heart turns to ice and drops to my toes. “Your rooms?”
Sean nods, sensing my reaction. He tightens his hold on me, and repeats those words once more, “You shouldn’t have come.”
The interior of the Ferro mansion is a labyrinth. I couldn’t find the front door again if I tried, and Sean’s rooms don’t appear to have another exit, aside from the massive double doors. I struggle to get out of his arms. Between his cryptic words and the serene look on his face, I’m more than mortified.
Swallowing hard, I ask, “I didn’t think you lived here anymore.”
“I don’t.” Sean continues walking with me cradled against his chest, passing from one lavish room to the next. His rooms are dark red, gold, and filled with leather and iron. Each velvet drape hangs from twenty feet up and extends all the way down to the floor. They’re closed, sealing out the light. Golden tassels adorn the pillows on a brown leather Tantra Chair. Leather cords are wrapped around the legs and tucked neatly underneath. It’s the only piece of furniture in this room.
My jaw drops and I stare at it. Sean notices, “When I turned twenty-one I was given funds to redecorate my quarters. This is my favorite room, although the box is long gone.”
I stare at the chaise lounge and stiffen in his arms. The memories of the box come racing back, making me shiver in a bad way, and then my stomach twists as if disappointed. What the hell is wrong with me? I didn’t like the box.
“Poor little rich boy only got a sex room for his birthday.” I make a pouty face, but I can’t hold it in place. When we enter the next room, the ceilings stretch higher. Ornate moldings, covered in gold, accent the deep red finish on the walls. Golden drapes cover these windows, but they are pulled back enough to let in a little bit of light. That sliver of light lands directly on the biggest bed I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s the size of two king beds pushed together.
The burgundy crushed silk coverlet lies over a fluffy down comforter. Tall spires of iron and wood stretch into the air, the tops adorned with swags of cream and blood red silk. They tangle together and hang down the poles, forming puddles of fabric.
An antique carpet covers a hand carved floor that looks an awful lot like ebony. I can only imagine how much the floor alone cost. As I look around, my senses are filled with things that are rich and lavish. Dark bookcases line another wall. They also appear to be custom and hand carved. The Ferro family crest adorns the top of each case. It’s inlaid with gold filigree on the center bookcase, surrounded by red stones that I can only assume are rubies. This is more opulent than I would’ve ever thought. The ceiling is obviously 24 karat gold leaf. I can see each little patch and know someone took hours upon hours applying each one by hand. Over the years, it’s developed a beautiful finish.
Opposite the bed are more large iron doors with ornate twisting metal, inlaid with mirrors so I can’t see what’s beyond.
“Would you believe me if I said I’ve never done more than sleep in here?” Sean smirks and gently sets me down on his bed.
“Liar.” I try to tease, to smile, but I’m pretty sure I look like I’ve been dragged through the Pine Barrens after falling off a donkey. I’m schmexy.
Sean leans over me, allowing those dark eyes to move from cut to cut. When he gets to the ones on my hands, he lifts my wrists and looks closer. “And why would I lie about it, Miss Smith? Especially when you are laying here in obvious distress on my bed?”
A smile crosses my lips. “You sleep here?”
“When I sleep, yes. And if I owe my mother a favor, I tend to stay close by.”
“What favor do you owe her?”
His dark lashes lower and he glances to the side after dropping my wrist. “I promised her that I’d get rid of you.”
Jerking upright, I’m ready to bolt from the room, but Sean steps in front of me. Grabbing my shoulders, he stops me. “Stop and listen before you make any decisions. Avery, trust me here.”
I laugh bitterly. “You lied to me, abused me, bought me, sold me, and trapped me. Did I leave anything out?”
“Yeah, one important thing—I saved you. I bartered for your life. I promised to get rid of you if Mother gave me the name of the person trying to gun us down. I’d assumed it was me they were after. I assumed too many things, and since I had no other options, I agreed. The problem came when I learned the gunners name was Marty. I backed him into a corner one day and that’s how we ended up working together. He wouldn’t let them hurt you—the dumb ass fell in love with his mark.” Sean smirks. His hands trail down my arms as he stares at me. “I can’t say I blame him.”
“So, you reneged on a promise to your evil Mother?” He nods. I feel sick. I was gonna come here and ask Constance for help, meanwhile she was trying to think of ways to get me chopped up and shipped away. It makes me wonder why he’d cross his mother and I can’t help it, I have to ask, “Why?”
“Why do you think?” I’m not sure, but I don’t say it. I still don’t know if he’s being friendly, or poising me so he can inflict the most damage.
When I don’t answer, Sean continues. “Masterson might have been an asshole for falling for you, but I was worse. I trusted Black to give me a girl I could handle. I thought you’d come one night, and be gone the next morning. But, things didn’t work out that way. Now, I can’t stand the thought of seeing you leave. I’m too late. I already know that. I did too much, and went too far. I don’t expect anything from you. But, if you’ll let me, I’ll get you to safety and you won’t be alone.”
My brows scrunch together. “You’re sending me away with a blind date? How nice of you.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. This is not what I want to hear.
Sean is being uncommonly kind, especially for him. “Avery, this isn’t the time to argue. Besides, you two are good for each other.”
“Ahhh,” I nod, catching his meaning, “Trystan. You think I belong with him.”
“He’s the safer choice.” Sean seems serious when he says it, like he thinks I actually have a better shot with Trystan than with him.
It makes me irate but I temper my rage, holding it just below the surface. “I don’t understand. You’d rather see me in the arms of another man?”
“No,” his voice is barely a whisper, and sounds almost like a confession. “But I messed up too many times, and I keep telling you that I can’t be the guy you want—the guy you need. Trystan can. He’s going to ask you—”
“Shut up about Trystan. He’s not the one I want. I want you.”
Sean steps away and shakes his head. “It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late. I do anything and everything, for a price. Remember, Mr. Jones?” My voice is even, confident. A pen and pad of paper catch my eye. I pace over to them and scrawl my terms onto the pad. Then I hand it back to him.
Sean glances at the paper and then looks up at me. “Are you coming on to me, Miss Smith?”
“Don’t be absurd.” I’m so sleepy that I can’t tell if I’m thinking clearly. But it seems like a good idea, so I go with it. “It’s a business contract, nothing more, nothing less. I heard you’re a business man.”
“I am, which is why there needs to be an additional clause...” Sean takes the paper and adds something.
When he hands it back to me, my stomach flips. “Those aren’t the usual terms.”
Sean smirks at me. “I’m an unusual man. Besides, fucking a married woman once in a while would be hot. And in the meantime, you have your best friend close by.”
My heart pounds harder. I didn’t come here expecting this, but I’m not backing down. I snatch the pen and add a few terms and then push it back at him. “Oh,” tapping the pen to my lips, I add, “and my fee is doubled since your terms are so specific.” I don’t expect him to go for it. I think I’m just calling his bluff—because marrying Trystan Scott is insane.
“And let me guess, you’re cutting Black out of the deal?” Sean watches me with those blue eyes, slowly sliding them up and down my body as I write.
I don’t look up. “Maybe.”
“She’ll come after you if she finds out.”
“Is that a threat, Mr. Jones?” I step toward him and raise a brow, holding the paper in one hand.
“It is. If you don’t follow through with your end, Black will find out and you won’t like what happens next.” The threat doesn’t feel hollow, but the smile on his face negates his menace. Sean’s hand strokes the edge of my cheek and dips down my neck, lingering above my chest.
We’re back at the beginning, and it kills me.
I thought we’d come so far, but I’m back to signing contracts and agreeing to be his sex toy. That’s exactly what the terms stipulate—I belong to him and agree to do what he says—including being Trystan’s girlfriend and maybe more.
Softly, I ask, “Trystan knows?”
Sean nods, and moves around behind me. Whispering in my ear, he says, “Sign it.” His hands are wrapped around my middle and his warm breath makes me want to melt into him. I want so many things in this moment, but the one that screams the loudest is that I wish he was real, I wish this was real.
I’m caught in the middle with no way out, and unsure as to whether or not Sean means to harm me, so I take the pen and scrawl my signature across the page. I don’t think he'd hurt me, but after everything that’s happened, who the hell knows? I can’t chance it. Even exhausted, I have to keep playing along and trying to see where this road ends.
Sean snatches the paper away, and then tugs me to him. “Your payment, Miss Smith.” He takes large bills from his wallet and tucks them in my waistband. “The contract is complete.”
My stomach has fallen into my shoes. I can’t believe we're back at the beginning again. It’s like the first night I worked for Black and walked over to his table. When he realized I was the call girl, he was furious. He thought he'd been played by someone he trusted. That must be what I’m feeling now. Swallowing hard I ask, “So, now what?”
“Now, I give you something that I know will make you smile.” Sean turns to his desk and pulls out a small present. “Open it.”
“You bought me a present?” I stare at it, not bothering to hide the disbelief on my face. This is weird. I don’t know what to make of him.
It’s as if Sean can read my mind, because he says, “Just open it. Remember, you belong to me. Do as I say and don’t ask questions.” Sean folds his arms over his chest and leans in closer, obviously excited.
As I rip the paper, I mutter, “If this is a dog collar, we’re going to have a serious conversation—oh my God.” It’s a dark frame and under the sheet of glass is a diploma with the name AVERY ANNA STANZ, complete with signatures and an embossed stamp.
I stare at it in disbelief. All the air has been stripped from my lungs and I can’t breathe. I sacrificed everything for this and it still slipped between my fingers. I can't even manage a full sentence. “How? I never finished my finals. How did you get this? Is it even real?”
Sean laughs. “Yes, it’s real. You worked your ass off for that. I told the Dean that your roommate died and that it was your final semester. He said that there was a bereavement policy that would allow you to pass your classes, which in turn earned you the degree. Someone just had to file the paperwork.”
“You filed the paperwork?” He nods. Suddenly I feel sick. I worked my butt off for this and it’s tainted with blood. My mouth is hanging open, staring in shock. “So, this is because Amber died? I get to graduate and her family gets nothing. Sean, this is wrong, I can’t accept this—”
He takes my hands gently, as if he knows I'm about to lose it. I’ve been held together by a thread for so long and it’s beyond frayed. “Avery, you earned this. If Amber and her boyfriend lived—if no one was hunting you like a fucking animal—then you would have gone to class. You would have gotten higher grades than the university gave you.” He reaches for my shoulder, lifting a strand of hair, letting it slip between his fingers. “There’s a reason they have that rule in place, and it’s for people like you. You worked so hard and have come so far, despite everything that was thrown your way. Most people would have quit. You didn’t.”
My voice is too high, but I can’t help it. “I can’t take this. I didn’t earn it. They died, Sean. Because of me.” A tear escapes from my eye and rolls down my cheek. It splatters on the glass, obscuring my name. “I don’t deserve this.”
Sean wipes away another tear before it can drop. His warm hands cradle my face, but he doesn’t force me to look up. Instead, I stare at the diploma while a whirlwind of feelings cyclone together inside my chest.
My parents were supposed to be here. They would have been proud. I had plans for graduate school and plans for life, now none of them will happen. At least that’s what I thought. Getting the diploma changes things, but when I look at it, I don’t see my struggles or my accomplishments—I see blood on an eyelet bedspread and the blank look on Amber’s lifeless body.
At some point I start prattling these things, bearing my soul to Sean in a way I’ve not done in a long time. I wipe away a tear. “How am I supposed to be proud of this when every time I look at it the only thing I see is death?” I laugh nervously and avoid his gaze. “Now isn’t a good time to return me, or throw back any of the dumbass things I’ve done lately. Don’t push me Sean, I can't handle it.”
Sean shifts his stance. He’s been listening to me, closed off, with his arms plastered to his chest. However, with my last statement, his arms drop to his sides and he steps forward, closer. “I’m sorry things didn’t happen the way you wanted. I’m sorry you feel like their blood is on your hands, but it’s not. I also know that I can tell you that for twenty years and you won’t hear it, so hear this—I never, ever thought I’d be this close to you again.”
He suddenly falls silent, so I glance up. His eyes are on the carpet and his hands are in his hair, as if he doesn’t know what to say. “I pushed you away, too hard, too many times. You deserve better.”
We stare at each other for a moment. Neither of us speaks. Time stills and this feels like one of those points that matter. I can blow him off and we can go back to the squabbling or I can do something else, something different and see where it leads.
My face scrunches up as I try not to cry. Stepping forward, I put the diploma down and step into Sean’s space and press my body to his chest, hoping his arms will come up around me. He’s not good at comforting, and this embrace reminds him of Amanda, I know it does, so I’ve avoided it—but not anymore.
Slowly his hands lift and find my back. He slides them into place and holds onto me.
I go on, bearing my soul. “Naked Guy was a douchebag, but I wouldn’t have wished that on him. He tried to hurt me, plus he launched those videos of me sexting all over. But Amber—she didn’t deserve it. If every bitch in the world was shot, there’d be less than a dozen women remaining and a lot of horny men.”
Sean stifles a giggle and nearly chokes, but he seems to sense what I’m thinking. “Listen to me, Avery. Amber was a cop, and she knew the risk going in. Her death isn’t on your shoulders, and you shouldn’t feel badly about getting your degree either. You worked for it. You sacrificed everything, every moral, every virtue, so you could have this degree.”
I feel so conflicted. My past and my present have collided together. “I know, but now that I have it, it wasn’t worth it. If I could go back and undo everything, I would.”
“Everything?” His voice is light, nervous. He knows I’ll tell him the truth.
Once I met Sean Ferro, my life became an untamed mess. I dropped the reigns the night he kissed me. Everything has run wild since then. I never thought I’d be standing here inside the Ferro mansion, next to this man, and yet here I am.
Pulling back, I look up at him. “Let’s not be coy anymore. If you have a question, ask it.”
“You know what I’m asking.” He stiffens, and the line between his brows deepens with worry.
“That’s like saying,
you know I love you
.” I say the last part in a dumb guy voice.
Sean smirks. “I don’t sound like that.”
“Then, ask me, Mr. Jones and I’ll tell you the truth. What is it that you really want to know?”
Sean has a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow. It feels like I’m torturing him, but if we’re wading into new waters here, we’re going together. I take his hand and try to catch his eye.
His voice comes out so soft, so insecure, that it nearly tears me in two. “Do you wish we never met?”
