Page 6 of A Practical Arrangement

Grant

“Oscar,I need you to dig into Doug March's financial records. Look for any discrepancies and also check a trust fund account under the name Ella Quinn March.” My voice echoes in the limo’s cavernous backseat as I bellow into the phone, my anger simmering just below the surface. “Find out if she's still enrolled at Columbia and if there have been any recent withdrawals or suspicious activity. And while you're at it, contact that private investigator we used a couple of years ago. We need to know if Doug is involved in any shady dealings,” I demand, my words dripping with venom. If what that girl claimed is true, not only will I fire Doug immediately, but I'll do everything in my power to make his life a living hell.

“What is this about?” Oscar understandably questions my motives, but I'm in no mood to justify them.

“Just do it. I’ll explain later.” I toss my phone on my seat and remind my driver to hit the gas.

According to Ella’s friend, she likely took the subway back to her apartment near Morningside. It’s only her second night living in her friend’s cramped apartment, but she plans to move to Nantucket when her aunt returns from a European vacation. Her parents have refused to house her in her time of need.Which is another reason I plan to knock Doug on his ass on Monday. What kind of father steals from his daughter and places her in such a vulnerable position? I can’t allow it.

My driver pulls up to the curb and parks, the engine humming softly as I step out of the car with a renewed sense of urgency. My heart beats faster with each step toward the building, its dark facade making it appear even more menacing in the dim streetlights.

In my haste, I hadn't thought to ask Gale for a key and now I realize I may not be able to enter. Ella is likely still upset with me, and who knows how long until anyone else arrives at this late hour? Panic sets in as I consider my options. This is no place for a young woman to live, but I’m unwilling to let her leave to Nantucket. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but this is the first time I’ve had hope she might become mine.

“Oh my God! What are you doing here? Haven’t you embarrassed me enough for one night?” The sound of Ella's voice, sweet yet tinged with anger, greets me like a familiar melody.

I quickly scan the area and find her shouting from the crosswalk coming my way. Her cheeks look flushed with frustration, but she doesn’t run away when I greet her at the edge of the sidewalk.

I extend my hand, but Ella slaps it away. I deserve her wrath, but it doesn’t deter me from following her toward the door. “Please, listen to me, Ella. I had no right to insert myself in your business, but you need to understand what kind of club it is. I just didn’t want you to put yourself in a compromising position.” I plead my case with half-truths, hovering over her like a crazed maniac. The truth is too difficult to admit, even to myself. How do I tell a woman I’m supposed to keep at arm’s length that I would have burned that club to the ground if I’d seen her leaving with another man?

“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Whitlock. But I can take care of myself.” Ella digs through her purse, searching for her key. “Could you hold onto these for me?” She hands me her phone and lipstick before continuing her search. “And just to be clear, you're not coming inside with me.”

I nod absentmindedly, my attention drawn to the continuous notifications on her phone. Six come in a row, forwarded from a number I recognize as The Secret Garden, but their message is hidden. My brow furrows with concern, worried that she offered her phone number to multiple men before we met at the bar. When a seventh notification pings, I hand her the phone and suggest she check her messages. “Someone is trying to get a hold of you.”

Ella’s eyes grow wide as she taps the screen and scrolls through the notifications. “It’s just Gale. She wants to make sure I got home safe.” When she blatantly lies to my face, my gaze narrows with suspicion. What is she hiding?

“Goodnight, Mr. Whitlock.” Ella yawns, exhaustion evident in her voice. She runs a hand through her disheveled hair and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “I’m tired and need to go to bed now.” With a determined look, she turns the key and pushes the heavy door open. I stand there, lingering in the doorway, unsure of what to do. She turns back to me, giving me an almost pleading look as she waves her small hand, gesturing for me to let her close the door completely. “You don’t have to worry about my safety,” she reassures me, “or what my father thinks of me frequenting these clubs. I promise you; he won't care.” Her words are laced with defiance and confidence as she tries and fails to close the door.

I extend my arm and keep the door slightly ajar, boldly inviting myself in. "I had no idea about your father's behavior, Ella. You don't have to resort to becoming a kept woman. I am more than willing to cover your tuition and provide you with aplace to stay." My offer is genuine, with no ulterior motives, but she immediately misconstrues my intentions.

“Oh, I understand now. You want me to beyoursugar baby instead? Is that why you came here? Trying to get a sneak peek before you put in the winning bid?” Ella shows her phone screen with seven different bids, each one higher than the last, all competing for a chance to go on a date with her.

“Sugar baby?” My heart leaps into my throat and I stammer nonsense as I try to explain myself.

But Ella doesn’t give me a chance. With a strong push, she knocks me off-balance, rushes inside, and slams the door behind her.

Why do I keep making things worse?

Chapter 8

Ella

“Ella!Wake up! Holy shit, wake up!” My eyes fly open at the sound of Gale's excited voice. She hovers over me, her wild hair framing her face as her hands shake my shoulders with a strength I didn't know she possessed. The smell of sweet apple liqueur fills my nostrils as she pushes me to the side and climbs onto the futon next to me.

With a sheepish grin, Gale apologizes. "Sorry, girl. My heart is pounding like a drum and my head is spinning," she admits. "I had a bit too much to drink and should have been more cautious about getting a ride from two men I hardly know. But they were kind enough to let me sit in the front seat with their driver, Bunny, who used to be a cop. She's a real salt-of-the-earth type." As she speaks, Gale's words come out rapid-fire, leaving me stunned and struggling to keep up with her train of thought.

“Bunny?” I rub my eyes and sit up, scanning the room to ensure we’re alone and check if she locked the front door behind her.

"Forget about my story," she says, eager to share her news. "After I shower, I'll tell you all about my night. Your news is way more exciting." Her eyes sparkle with anticipation as she leans in closer. "About thirty minutes after you left, your silverhottie, Mr. Whitlock, stormed into The Secret Garden like a raging bull. He and his bodyguard pushed and shoved their way through the staff, demanding they close your auction. When they hesitated, he bid two million dollars on you!" Gale's voice rises with excitement. "That was more than double the highest bid, and they immediately closed your auction. It was insane." She pauses, looking almost worried. "He may have threatened them to do that, I'm not sure."

A shiver of both fear and excitement runs down my spine at the thought of Mr. Whitlock's possessiveness. Why is he acting so crazy?

My heart palpitates like a caffeinated hummingbird as I process the insane amount of money at stake. Two million dollars? My mind spirals with thoughts of what Grant Whitlock could possibly want from me for such an outlandish sum. I stumble out of my makeshift bed and hurry to the kitchen. "Gale, you've really done it this time," I mutter, pouring myself a tall glass of water. “Anyone who spends two million is probably not the type to waste time on fancy dates and smooth talking—he'll want to get straight to business and make sure he's getting his money's worth. There’s no way I can provide someone with a two-million-dollar experience.”

“Oh, Ella, you're building a whole conspiracy in your mind! It's just a date. These guys are loaded with cash and two million is just pocket change to them. Sure, they might be hoping for a littlesomethin'-somethin'after dinner, but according to Duncan, they're more interested in taking it slow because they want a real connection. These arrangements can last for years, and these sugar daddies spoil their ladies in exchange for some occasional arm candy. It's not modern-day slavery, it's all business. You can leave whenever you want." With that, Gale leaps out of bed and tosses her shoes across the room, shaking out her hair as she strolls into the kitchen.

“Why would he do that? I outright accused him of trying to derail the auction because he wanted me to be his sugar baby, and he was offended. It doesn’t make sense he would then leave here and prove me right.” I take a gulp of water, frantically trying to make sense of this bizarre situation. Does this make me a kept woman? A pampered pet? Neither have ever been career aspirations.

Gale snatches my glass and chugs the last drops of water before striding off to the bathroom. "If I were you, I'd brace myself for a call or a visit from your Mr. Whitlock, who is not nearly as charming as his little brother. Don't even think about dozing off. Give me a quick moment to freshen up and I'll tell you all about my bizarre night. You'll never believe it—I can hardly believe it myself.”

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