Page 12 of The Arrangement

He nods, giving Howard one more scratch before turning his attention to the rest of the shop. I glance through the windows that look out onto the front of the store. Ty and Nicky are watching with careful eyes. Ty holds up his phone, mouthing “call the police?” I shake my head.

"I wanted to see the business Ned used as collateral, while it's still open," Maksim says, his gaze sweeping across the shop with a curious intensity.

With a shake of the shovel, I gesture to the chaos around us. "Well, it's not all that glamorous, as you can see. But it's mine and I love it," I assert, pride swelling in my chest for the world I've built.

His smile then, unexpected and disarmingly handsome, sends my heart into a frenzy. It's unsettling how a simple expression can unravel me, can make me forget, if only for a moment, the complexities and shadows his presence in my life represents.

“It’s good to take pride in your work, to be in pursuit of your own goals.” He glances over his shoulder at the city outside. “So many people out there… they’re going through the motions, not sure why they’re doing what they do.”

“Thanks for the inspirational words,” I say, a tinge of sarcasm to my voice. “Is there anything else?”

Maksim's gaze snaps back from the window, locking onto mine with an intensity that feels like a physical touch. I’m being impatient, urging him to leave, but he doesn’t seem at all affected, as if the world runs on his time.

"People like us," he pauses, a subtle emphasis on 'us', "we make our own fate."

His words hang heavy in the air "People like us, huh?" I reply. "And here I thought I was just a small business owner, not a mob enforcer."

He doesn't flinch at my words; if anything, his smile widens just a fraction, as if my snark is exactly what he expects, what he admires.

"Forget it," I go on, not sure I want to hear the end of that thought. "Was there anything else, or can I get back to work?" My tone is sharper than I intend, a defense mechanism against the turmoil stirring inside me.

“You and I both know there’s something else. Let’s talk.”

Chapter 6

Maksim

"Ialready told you, I don't have the money."

I narrow my eyes, a slight tilt of my head as I consider her words. "You've got quite the tone for someone in your position," I say, my voice low, carrying a weight meant to remind her of the gravity of her situation.

“And you’ve got quite the tone for someone barging into my shop demanding I pay you a debt that isn’t mine.”

The air between us crackles with tension.

"How much do you have?" I probe further, stepping into the space she's filled with attitude.

Her resolve falters under the pressure of my inquiry, my directness. My nearness. To my surprise, a tinge of remorse washes over me, seeing the fight in her eyes dim. It's unexpected, this feeling, and unwelcome in my world where emotions can be liabilities.

"I'm just about broke," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper, the fierceness from moments ago replaced by a vulnerable honesty.

It's rare for me to feel anything close to regret in my line of work, but watching her, a woman fighting tooth and nail for what she loves, stirs something unfamiliar within me.

"We need to find a solution," I say, the hardness in my tone softened, just a fraction, by the glimpse of her struggle. It's not in my nature to offer concessions, but something about Tory makes me reconsider the usual paths I'd take.

"I have nothing," she says again, each word heavy with defeat. " Every penny goes back into this shop. I don’t even pay myself. Ty’s the only full-time employee I can afford. I also have a part-timer.”

I glance over my shoulder. The one named Ty is in sight, but the other employee isn’t sitting with him.

This news catches me off guard. I've had eyes on her, surveillance that's told me a lot, but I hadn't bothered to check the footage from her office recently. The fact that she's sacrificed personal comfort for her business speaks volumes. It's a dedication I hadn't fully appreciated, a grit that commands respect even in my world.

"The only way I could get close to paying off the debt would be to sell the shop," she continues. "And I won’t do that."

Her admission hangs in the air. It's a moment of raw honesty that strips away the adversarial dynamic between us.

I'm silent for a moment, processing her situation, the depth of her predicament. Selling the shop, her dream, isn't just a financial transaction; it's the surrender of her very essence, something she's unwilling to do. And unexpectedly, I find myself not wanting her to face that choice.

"There might be another way," I say, the words surprising even me. My life, my business, it's not known for leniency or second chances. Yet here I am, contemplating alternatives for a woman who's defied me at every turn.

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