Page 11 of The Arrangement

Quinn looked over at her with his dark eyes, still rimmed red. "Pepper spray me in my own home while I was naked?"

I groaned and leaned my head on my knees, willing the floor to just open up and devour me then and there. A silence descended on us, the only sound was the dripping faucet behind us.

"You know Wolfe?" His voice was low and hesitant like he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to know after all. If there was any possibility, the urge to fling myself out of a window became more and more ideal.

"Can we just forget about all of this, please?" I whined, still not allowing myself to look into my old classmate's eyes and instead focusing on an art piece on his wall across from us.

Quinn laughed, a deep huff that brought goosebumps to my skin. It was at that moment I realized he was still naked, save for the blanket he had grabbed when I had barged into his room just moments ago.

"No, I don't think we can, Clark," he teased, shoving me lightly with his stupid muscled body. "Didn't peg you for a mask kink, but I guess that just goes to show we don't really know our neighbors, do we?"

At that, I looked up with narrowed eyes. "And I didn't know my very affluent ex-classmate had a paywalled sex website. I thought you just brought those women home to fuck them, very loudly, I might add, so that I could never get a good night's sleep!"

Quinn lifted his arms in mock defeat, "Wow, and a slut shamer. Really killing me, Clark."

Growling, I hoisted myself off of his very clean tile floor and realized with immediate regret that my dry clean-only cashmere sweater was soaked in milk. Like I had the money for a dry cleaning bill right now.

"It's 2024; I'm not slut shaming you, Quinn. I am noise-shaming you, though." Blinking in the soft light of the apartment, I found my discarded bag and phone I had flung when Sebastian had stood.

"Seems like you don’t mind it so much when it's on the website," he teased, standing and clutching the blanket in one hand. "Oh, what are you subscribed under? I can see which videos you viewed most."

I tossed the kitchen towel at his stupid muscled chest and pointed a finger at him. "I'm not subscribed, you ass. I just watch the previews."Jesus Christ, what an idiot, I thought as I slapped my hand over my mouth.

His dark eyebrows raised, "Oh, and a cheapskate too, huh?"

I grabbed my bag from the floor and slung it over my shoulder. "We're done; you're not dead or being murdered, so I am going back home and forgetting all about this."

I heard his laugh as I all but ran out of his posh apartment and fumbled with my keys at my door, "Thanks for the rescue!"

All but screaming, I slammed the door behind me. What the fucking fuck had just happened?

I avoidedSebastian like the plague for the next two weeks. I had every step planned and ready to be executed like a well-written military plan. Bag? On my shoulder. Keys (sans pepper spray, going for brass knuckles next time)? In my hand. I found if I stared at the floor when Ileft the shared entryway I wouldn't even look at his apartment door, which was good. Wonderful even. Because if I didn't look at his door, I wouldn't think of his muscled body or how his tattooed forearm veins bulged as he fisted his coc—see? That's why I didn't look at the door.

Tonight, I was leaving later than usual. It was already dark out, and the wind was biting against my skin as I walked quickly down the sidewalk, the streetlamp’s yellow glow lighting my way.

Sarah had found about a dozen hours a week for me to stock the coffee shop overnight; the kid they hired wasn't out of high school yet and legally couldn't work that late. I nearly kissed my friend square on the mouth when she caught me between shifts at the bookshop heading to visit my grandmother.

So there I was, walking at 8 p.m. on a weekday back down to the coffee shop when I would usually be firmly planted in my favorite chair, watching TV or listening to an audiobook while I mindlessly scrolled social media. The keys to the cafe seemed stiff in my hand as I wrestled with the antique handle, breathing a sigh of relief as I was finally welcomed into the warm and dimly lit shop. Sarah had told me she could leave a few lights on so I didn't get murdered. She's always so thoughtful.

I clocked in and dropped my coat on the counter while I surveyed the few boxes that had been brought in from the back. It was maybe two hours of work here, three if I stretched it out and bit and dusted like Sarah had suggested. I know she was just trying to help because the place already looked spotless. Even the dark wooden countertops gleamed with furniture polish. Sighing, I slipped my earbuds in and turned on a podcast. Just some history one; true crime wasn't the best idea when one was in an old, semi-dark shop with large windows that looked out to the equally dark street.

The coffee smelled divine; even from within its airtight packaging, the imported light roast filled the whole place with its aroma. I restocked, refilled the espresso machine for tomorrow, and tossed any expired food into my tote bag.

Come on, it was 24 hours old. That cookie was just fine. Ifanything, I was saving the environment or something. Maybe a few quiches.

At almost two hours on the dot, I clocked out, unable to stretch out my length of work. It didn't seem right when they gave me a few hours here and there, plus free coffee. And the expired quiches, even if they didn't expressly add that into the perks on my onboarding.

Shoving a day-old gluten-free chocolate chip cookie that cost my hourly wage into my mouth, I tied off the trash and tossed it into the dumpster. I rubbed my hands together as soon as I was back inside the warmth of the shop. Jesus, it was cold out. Pulling on my jacket, I unlocked my phone, procrastinating my walk back home in the cold dark of the late October night. My car was still barely running, and I had canceled my car assistance to spare a few hundred dollars a month—I wasn't looking to add the expense of a late-night tow to my pile of unpaid bills.

My fingers hovered over the search bar while I looked behind me and out towards the windows. I gnawed at my lower lip as I finally typed in the all-too-familiar URL.

www.themaskedwolfe.com

Cupping my hand over my screen and dimming the luminance to near darkness, I was shocked to see Wolfe hadn't posted any new content except a short solo one. The preview was for the same video I had seen over two weeks ago. My eyebrows raised, but I quickly exited the browser and took a deep breath when I realized I couldn't delay that fifteen-minute walk any longer. Fifteen minutes felt a lot longer when it was under sixty degrees and dark as sin.

After locking up, I hurriedly walked down the sidewalk, passing various shops, including Hemingway's, as I made my way home. I had taken my earbuds out because I was a woman, and it was night. No matter how quaint or quiet a town was, it was no excuse to let my guard down.

It was at that exact moment that I heard the telltale sound of car tires crunching leaves on the road behind me. The sound of the car slowed, and I picked up my pace, desperately wishing that I hadremembered to buy new pepper spray, brass knuckles, or whatever else I could stash in my tote bag.

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