The Arrangement: Chapter 3

His suggestion hits me like a slap in the face.

I want to leap at him with the scissors still clutched in my hand, just for the insult of it, to cut that stupid grin right off his face for even thinking I’m that type of woman.

Fury boils over, and I let him have it.

‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ I spit out, the words sharp as knives. ‘You could be behind Ned’s death, for all I know, and here you are, propositioning me? What an asshole! Asking for sexual favors to erase a debt? Hell fucking no!’ I’m pacing back and forth now, every word fueled by shock, anger, and disbelief. I don’t take my eyes off him. ‘That debt isn’t even mine, so there’s no way in hell I’m paying it in any form.’

Maksim just watches me, that infuriatingly amused look plastered on his face as if this whole confrontation is a game to him. It’s maddening, the way he manages to look both dangerous and undeniably sexy with just a smirk.

I throw another truth at him, hoping to wipe that smug look off his face. ‘Ned is dead. I have no clue what he did with the money he borrowed.’

His response is cold, detached. ‘Ned’s death is of no consequence to me.’ He pauses, his eyes locking onto mine. ‘He told me the money was for this business you two opened together. That’s what matters. And that makes it your responsibility.’ He glances back at the kennel area.

The revelation of what Ned did feels like another blow that knocks the wind out of me. It’s not just the audacity of his proposition now; it’s the sinking realization of how deep Ned’s lies have dragged me.

The gravity of the situation settles in, the danger, the betrayal, all of it weaving a noose around my neck. And Maksim seems to think it’s all so goddamn funny.

I don’t back down, my voice steady, laced with steel. ‘I never saw a dime of that money. That man? He expected me to pay him for the privilege of his help when we were together. This mess? It’s not my problem.’

Maksim moves closer, his presence towering, undeniably threatening. ‘It very much is your problem,’ he counters, his voice low, a dangerous edge to each word. ‘You own the business where the money was supposedly invested. You will pay the debt.’

Time seems to slow between us, a silent standoff. I refuse to break eye contact, refuse to show any hint of weakness. And though his stance screams threat, there’s an undercurrent of something else between us—lust. It’s there, unmistakable in the way he looks at me, a raw desire that’s as surprising as it is unsettling.

His gaze holds mine, intense, charged. The air between us crackles with an energy that’s hard to define.

Despite the danger, despite the anger, I’m acutely aware of him—not just as a threat, but as a man. A man whose interest in me is more than just professional. The realization sends a thrill of power through me, even as it complicates everything further.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Maksim breaks our intense stare-off. But it’s clear he’s doing so on his terms, not because I’ve won any sort of victory. My heart hammers against my ribs as he reaches into his suit jacket. I’m half-expecting to see the glint of a gun. Instead, he pulls out a fancy pen, the kind that looks more at home in executive boardrooms than a pet daycare.

He leans over the counter, scribbling something on a notepad I’ve left out. ‘I’m writing down two numbers,’ he explains without looking up. ‘First, the amount you owe. Second, my business line.’ He pauses, finally meeting my gaze again. ‘Call me when you figure out how you’re going to pay me.’

Then, he steps closer, way too close. The heat from his body envelops me, and I’m suddenly aware of his scent, expensive cologne and something inherently masculine. He towers over me, his presence dominating the cramped space. It’s intimidating, how small and vulnerable he makes me feel, a sensation that causes a confusing rush of fear and arousal to bolt through me.

‘Expect another visit soon,’ he says, his voice low, sending shivers down my spine. He turns to leave.

Despite everything, despite my anger, my fear, and the indignation boiling inside me, I find my gaze trailing down, unable to resist stealing a glance at his retreating form, how gorgeous his ass looks in those perfectly tailored slacks.

As the door closes behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the scribbled numbers on the notepad, I’m forced to confront the reality of my situation.

Frozen in the aftermath of his departure, it takes me several long seconds to snap out of my daze. Annoyed with myself, I rush to the back door through which he entered and exited, slamming the lock home. I chastise myself for the oversight of leaving it open, especially today. As if on cue, rain starts to fall, a soft patter that quickly grows into a downpour.

It takes every ounce of my will to finally move away from the door, my steps heavy as I approach the notepad he left on the counter. The number he wrote down, his handwriting impossibly neat, is stark against the white paper—a figure so high, it might as well be a sentence rather than a sum. Tears of frustration blur my vision, a mix of anger at Ned, at the situation he’s left me in, and a bewildering attraction to a man who should repulse me on every level.

What am I going to do? The question echoes in my mind, a relentless tide of worry and despair. Ned’s betrayal feels like a knife in the back, a wound made all the worse by the realization that even if he had lived, my store, my dream, was nothing more than collateral to him—a means to an end he had no hope of fulfilling.

Exhausted, emotionally spent, I drop into my chair at my desk, my gaze inadvertently catching the Murphy bed. A stark reminder of the many nights I’ve already sacrificed for this place. With a sigh, I bury my face in my hands, the weight of the world pressing down on me.

As the rain beats down outside, I ponder the impossible choices ahead, the paths I might have to walk, and the parts of myself I’m only now beginning to understand.