Page 42 of The Arrangement

In the photo she’s dressed in nothing but a pair of light blue panties, her arm crossing her breasts just enough to cover her nipples. She’s smiling, her red hair tossed about her face. The picture is hot as hell; I pause for a moment to compose myself, my cock stiffening to attention.

I’m looking forward to ripping those panties off, I reply.

Another picture follows, this one with her thumb hooked under the waistband of said panties, teasing me by pulling on the waistband but not enough to give me a glimpse. I growl like an animal as I take in the sight.

Using all the restraint I have, I slip my phone back into my pocket and continue.

First work, then play.

The exchange, brief as it is, sharpens my focus. My eyes lock onto the door of the study, and I’m ready.

Mulling over everything as I approach my father's study, a decision crystallizes in my mind—Tory and Adelina need to get to know one another better. The thought alone sets my pulse hammering, a heady brew of anticipation and anxiety that dwarfs any apprehension about the impending family showdown.

Pushing the door open, I find myself walking straight into the heart of tension, the air thick with silent confrontations yet to unfold. My father greets me with a nod, his face a reflection of my own feelings about this forced gathering—irritation masked by a veneer of necessary family diplomacy.

Then there's Aleksey. He doesn't waste a moment, immediately taking the offensive, his disdain barely concealed. I attempt a greeting, a gesture of peace, but he's dismissive, treating my effort as if it's beneath him.

"Good of you to finally show up," Aleksey sneers, his words dripping with a venom that's all too familiar. Clearly, he's enjoying this, the opportunity to cast me as the wayward brother, the one stepping out of line.

My jaw clenches at his tone, every instinct urging me to hit back, to wipe that smug look off his face. But I hold back, aware that any outburst plays right into his hands. Father's watching us both, a silent arbiter of our sibling rivalry turned cold war.

"So, Aleksey, what's the urgent matter that couldn't wait?" I ask, forcing neutrality into my voice, even as I brace myself for his onslaught of accusations or demands.

He turns to our father. "Maksim's lost it, thinking with his dick instead of his brain," he spits out.

His words, meant to provoke, barely register. I brush off the jab. "Aleksey," I start, my voice low, controlled, "you brought our business into my home, risked exposing Adelina to it." The memory alone fuels my anger, but I'm keeping a tight lid on it, for now.

Aleksey, smug fuck as always, fires back, "Using your daughter as a shield now? That's low, even for you." He crosses the final line, suggesting Tory's nothing more than a transaction to me. "Is that piece of ass really good enough to pay a hundred grand for?"

That's it. Any semblance of control snaps. I'm across the room before I know it, my fist connecting with Aleksey's face in a satisfying thud. He reels, then comes back at me, his punch catching my jaw.

Father's shouting, trying to intervene, but it's white noise. All I see is Aleksey, all I feel is this raw, primal need to protect what's mine—Tory's honor, Adelina's innocence.

The room suddenly fills with the bulk of our father’s enforcers, their hands gripping us firmly, yanking my brother and me apart. I barely register the pain from the blow Aleksey landed; my focus is on the blood streaming from his nose—a small victory in a battle that shouldn't have been fought.

“Enough!” Father’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. "Never again, Maksim," he barks, his gaze drilling into me. "We stand together. Always." It's a reminder, a command, that our family's unity is paramount, no matter the personal grievances.

His eyes then shift to Aleksey, hard and unyielding. "And you, remember this—Maksim is your elder brother. His path is set. Yours is to support, not undermine." It's a declaration, laying bare the hierarchy within our family.

As the guards release their hold, I straighten, brushing off my suit, the taste of blood in my mouth a bitter reminder of the line I'd crossed.

“Enough of this bullshit,” Aleksey sneers as he grabs his coat. “I came here for a discussion, and now I’m being put in my place as the spare.” He strides toward the office door. "Enjoy your temporary seat at the table, brother, when you finally get it. We'll see how long it takes before you're begging me to take over." Aleksey makes his dramatic exit, the door slamming shut with a finality that seems to echo through the silent room.

The urge to chase after him, to confront the storm of accusations and threats head-on, surges within me. It's only the memory of my father’s stern command, his reminder of the fragile balance we're forced to navigate in this family drama, that holds me back.

I turn to face Father, the frustration and anger clear in my expression. "How am I supposed to just stand by and let him—"

"Enough, Maksim," Father cuts in, his voice firm yet weary. "Chasing after Aleksey will only escalate the problem. You need to be smart, not reactive."

I exhale slowly, trying to rein in the tumultuous mix of emotions Aleksey's words have stirred. "He's threatening everything we've built. Everything you've built with his adolescent temper tantrums," I argue.

Father sighs, then tosses me a handkerchief. I press it against my mouth, feeling the sting of Aleksey's blows, but it's his words, his blatant challenge to my future leadership, that left a deeper mark.

"So, this woman," Father begins, breaking the silence that had settled between us, "what's the story there?"

I meet his gaze, choosing my words with care. "I'm seeing her. It's serious." It feels like a confession, laying bare a part of my life I've kept shielded from the family dynamics. "She's going to be spending time with Adelina this weekend."

My father nods, a hint of a smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. "Good, good. It's about time you found someone." But then his expression sobers, the father in him giving way to the patriarch. "Just remember, Maksim, the family comes first. Always."

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