The Arrangement: Chapter 28

Sitting at Maksim’s kitchen counter, I’m hit by a beam of sunlight. It’s kind of cinematic. Everything’s bright, warm, and peaceful. I glance down, and whoa, my belly’s massive.

Adelina’s buzzing around, her energy like a little sunbeam of its own. She suddenly stops and looks up at me with those big, curious eyes. ‘Can you feel the baby kick?’ she asks, her voice brimming with excitement only kids can muster.

I can’t help but laugh, nodding. ‘Yeah, want to feel?’

Her face lights up, and she nods eagerly, inching closer. As she places her small hand on my belly, waiting, I love how these moments slow everything down. And sure enough, our little kicker decides to say hello, right on cue. Adelina’s eyes go wide as saucers.

‘Wow!’ she gasps, and we share a look of both wonder and laughter.

Maksim saunters in, somehow looking like a million bucks in gray slacks and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up just so. He heads straight for the coffee, then turns to us with that smile.

‘Ready for our day out, my two favorite girls?’ he asks, all casual like we’ve been planning this for ages.

I’m sitting there, blinking at him because I don’t remember any plans. Since when were we going anywhere? I’ve got this weird fog in my brain, making it hard to keep up. Meanwhile, Adelina’s practically vibrating with excitement, bombarding Maksim with questions about what we’re going to do.

Irina walks in, tossing a playful jab Maksim’s way about forgetting his third favorite girl. We all laugh, but mid-giggle, a wave of dizziness hits me and I have to grab onto the counter. My head’s spinning, and suddenly, the room feels way too warm.

As Maksim, Irina, and Adelina dive into their conversation, I’m feeling more off by the second. I make a move to stand, but my legs aren’t having it. They’re like jelly. I clutch the counter harder to keep myself from hitting the floor.

‘Hey,’ I try, aiming for their attention, but my voice seems to vanish before it reaches them. They’re wrapped up in their chat while I struggle to stay vertical.

Feeling a notch away from terrible, I raise my voice, ‘Guys!’ Nothing. It’s like I’m not even there. Panic starts to nibble at my edges because this isn’t just feeling sick; this is wrong on a whole new level.

I’m yelling now, over and over, but it’s like I’m invisible, mute. They’re standing so close, but it’s as if I’m far away. Something’s really, really wrong.

Down I go, right to my knees, the kitchen swirling around me like a carousel gone wild. Maksim, Irina, and Adelina are still in their own world, their voices now twisting into sounds that don’t make any sense to me, as if they’ve flipped to a language I’ve never heard.

I’m trying, really trying, to push myself up, to get their attention, to make them see me down here, but my body’s just not cooperating. It’s like my muscles have checked out, leaving me stranded on this spinning kitchen floor.

Then it’s over, and I’m waking up to the lovely ambiance of a car trunk. I look around, getting my bearings, realizing I must’ve passed out.

Talk about a rough wake-up call. Every inch of me hurts, and I immediately go into mom mode, hands on my belly, freaking out over the little one in there.

Here in the dark, it’s just me and my racing thoughts—and, of course, the baby. I’m trying to come up with some kind of plan, but honestly, it’s like trying to nail jelly to the wall. I’ve got to believe Maksim’s on the case, that his protective mode is going into overdrive. But as this car hums along, taking me who knows where, I’m left hanging with nothing but my worries, and this little life inside me, both of us heading into the unknown.

The car slows to a stop and my heart rate ticks up a notch. As the engine goes silent and footsteps signal someone’s approach, my body kicks into a fight-or-flight mode that’s all about fight right now.

As soon as the trunk cracks open, I’m a missile, launching myself at Nicky with all the grace of a stumbling toddler. We hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, my attempt at a heroic punch turning into a clumsy swipe.

‘Really, Tory?’ Nicky grunts, dodging my hand with a twist of his head, my palm barely grazing his cheek instead of smashing his nose.

I’m panting, furious. ‘You’re going to pay for this, asshole.’

He chuckles darkly, a sound that sends chills down my spine. ‘I’d like to see you try. Keep it up, and I’ll break your jaw. Maybe that’ll shut you up.’

My heart’s racing, adrenaline pumping. ‘You think you scare me?’ I spit back, though my bravado is wavering.

‘I should.’ He’s looming over me now, the threat hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

I’m caught in the thick of it, my survival instincts clashing with the stark reality of my situation. Fighting Nicky seemed like a good idea for a hot second, but now? I’m in over my head, flailing in deep water.

Nicky grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet, intent on dragging me inside. Instinctively, I yank back. ‘Don’t touch me,’ I snap, glaring at him.

He reaches for me again, and panic surges. I twist away, making a break for it, but he’s too quick, grabbing me firmly. He raises his hand, and for a split second, I brace for the impact, but he stops himself. The air between us crackles with tension; it’s clear he’s not playing games.

‘What the hell is going on?’ I demand, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘Who the hell are you, Nicky?’

He lets out a frustrated sigh, his anger simmering just below the surface. ‘I worked some jobs with Ned,’ he says, as if that explains everything.

Ned. The name of my ex hits me like a ton of bricks. Nicky is just another criminal, a ghost from my past life with my ex, now haunting my present.

‘So, what? You’re a low-life crook just like him?’ I can’t hide the disdain in my voice.

Nicky’s expression hardens. ‘I’m not the one you should be worried about,’ he warns, his tone icy. ‘There are bigger players in this game, Tory. And you’re in deep.”

Great. Just great. From one bad situation to a nightmare, courtesy of my stellar choice in men. Now I’m stuck with Nicky, the bridge between my messed-up past and this increasingly terrifying present.

His voice cuts through my thoughts. ‘Ned left a mess, Tory. A big one. People are still trying to clean up after him, and that loan? It’s not going away.”

Suddenly, it clicks. Nicky showing up at my business wasn’t luck or happenstance. It was all planned. A cold realization washes over me—I’ve been a pawn since the start. My past with Ned is like a shadow I can’t shake off, dictating my life without my say.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “Feel free to call me by my real name – Nicolai.”

His voice is different, tinged with a slight Russian accent that hadn’t been there before. The depths of his deception is clear – Nicky or Nicolai or whatever the hell his name is has been playing me from the start.

I’m seething inside, itching to lash out, to fight back against this manipulation. But reality hits. I’m not just responsible for myself anymore. There’s a baby in the picture now. My instinct to protect my child overrides the fury, tempers the desperation.

As Nicky leads me, I take in our surroundings. The houses, grand and imposing, remind me of Maksim’s place. We’re in a neighborhood that feels eerily familiar, the architectural style mirroring Maksim’s own home. Confusion and fear knot inside me.

‘Where are we?’ I demand, my voice tight with unease. ‘What are you planning?’

Nicky doesn’t answer, his silence ominous. The pieces aren’t adding up, and every step toward this house, so similar to Maksim’s, plunges me deeper into a maze of questions. The sense of being trapped in someone else’s scheme tightens around me.

Walking through this house with Nicky and his sidekick, I compare it to Maksim’s. Where Maksim’s place has a sort of elegant vibe, this house screams ‘trying too hard’ with its over-the-top flashiness. It’s like someone took the concept of luxury, dialed it up to eleven, and then threw in some glitter for good measure.

Maksim’s home, for all its grandeur, feels lived-in, welcoming. You’ll find Adelina’s toys scattered around, her drawings on the fridge—signs of a real family. This place? It’s like walking into a magazine spread for the rich and tasteless. I spot a staff of model-like women dusting and fussing over the decor, and guards that look like they eat nails for breakfast stationed at doors.

As they usher me upstairs, I’m taking in every detail, trying to make sense of where I am. The disconnect between this place and Maksim’s home only adds to my confusion and unease. There’s an impersonal, show-off quality here that sets my teeth on edge.

The procession stops at a door, and I’m led into a room that’s as lavishly decorated as the rest of the house, but with a distinct lack of warmth. It’s just so sterile, despite the opulence. I’m trying to keep a brave face, but inside, my anxiety is spiking. What’s waiting for me here?

The moment I’m ushered into the office, it’s like stepping onto the set of some alpha male fantasy. Everything screams overcompensation, as if the decor is trying to shout ‘I’m a man!’ without a shred of subtlety. The walls are adorned with trophies and weapons, each one more aggressive than the last.

A massive desk of dark, polished wood dominates the room, looking more like a medieval banquet table than a place of work. Behind it sits a chair so unnecessarily large, it could double as a throne for a king with a serious inferiority complex.

And there’s Aleksey, the man himself, perched behind that imposing desk like he owns the world. He’s the embodiment of this room—trying too hard to project power and dominance. As he gestures for me to take a seat, I can’t help but think of those nature documentaries where the animals puff themselves up to look bigger. This room, with its ludicrously macho vibes, feels like his version of puffing up.

Oversized paintings of lions and bulls reflect his false sense of pride, and the scent of rich, musky cologne permeating the air feels like a caricature of masculinity. It’s as if he asked himself, ‘What would a stereotypical, douchey alpha male do?’ and then did exactly that, but times ten.

Aleksey casually throws his feet up on his oversized desk, as if to underline the macho circus that is his office. He nods at the chair across from him, a smug smile playing on his lips.

‘Take a seat,’ he says, his tone implying it’s more of a command than a suggestion. ‘We’ve got a hell of a lot to talk about.’