Page 32 of The Arrangement

My phone had vibrated late the night before. I couldn't stop my stomach from flipping when I saw Clark's name pop up on my notifications; I was immediately filled with nervous anticipation. What if she hated it? What if I made our already tense dynamic worse, and she wanted nothing to do with me?

I shook my head; it's not like we had anything to do with each other as it was, unless a package was delivered to her unit by accident or we shared tense words in the halls. So I opened up the text and released a breath of relief at the words. Georgia was game and coming to my apartment tonight.

I had slept restlessly, going over in my head what I’d need to do to make her feel comfortable and all the different marketing strategies I could employ to announce her on my platform. I had well over 10k subscribers, plus the social media accounts, so I would need to do a teaser to get people excited for something new.

I woke up this morning and deep-cleaned my apartment before heading off to the gym. I usually went five days a week; my body being a huge part of my business meant I sprung for a membership at the nicest gym I could find in the city. My usual 9-to-5 job was my least favorite thing to do, but I knew I was lucky to have it.

It was colder than ever as the sun was barely peeking over the tops of the trees. I had only a few hours of relative peace before going to work at Quinn Real Estate, a division of The Quinn Foundation. Most of my job consisted of filing paperwork and assisting with possible real estate locations for our smaller businesses. My grandfather had told me, even though I’d had my real estate license for over five years now, that I wasn't "ready" to take on any big projects.

However, I had lived here my entire life and knew most of the people in this city through networking, college, and, unfortunately, my grandfather's name. He would set me up with smaller businesses looking for retail spaces so I tried to do good where I could, helping local companies find good quality buildings or rental spots for their needs. Hell, I even set up The Grind right next to Hemingway's, knowing that the coffee/book combo would help boost both businesses.

So, for now, I sat behind a desk, working on handling incoming potential clients as an account manager. It was simple and something I could do with my headphones in, so I didn’t complain too much. A knock at my office door had me spinning in my chair to see Thomas Fletcher leaning on the doorframe, coffee in hand.

"Want to grab lunch?" He asked, shaking the empty coffee cup in my direction. Though I had a few inches on him, Fletcher had an unmistakable aura of confidence that drew people to him like flies to honey. He was an amazing salesman and also happened to be one of my best friends, along with one of only three people in the world who knew about my alter ego, Wolfe.

Realizing at that moment just how hungry I was, I agreed and logged off my computer to join him. "Where are you thinking?" I asked, and as we walked outside, I was surprised by the mild temperature.

"So, how're things going with your new friend?" Fletcher asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. I rolled my eyes before looking both ways to cross the street to the local dinner.

"You know I don't talk about my relationships with my collaborators," I reminded him as we jaywalked across the downtown street.

"Oh, so it's a relationship?" he asked brightly, laughing as he saw my narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, a working one, Fletcher, something you wouldn't know anything about." I opened the door and stepped immediately into the cafe, where the aroma of freshly cooked burgers welcomed me.

"Whatever, when's the last time you actually hooked up with someone outside of your 'work'?" Fletcher asked as he grabbed a menu we didn't actually need.

Sliding into a booth in the back, I shrugged. "I have too many things going on for a girlfriend right now, man, you know that."

Fletcher huffed a breath in a laugh. "I didn't say a girlfriend, Quinn; I said a hookup." Our conversation halted as the waiter took our orders and brought out some water.

Our food was out quickly, another reason we loved this place. Greasy smash burgers and full-sized pickles were hitting the spot today.

Fletcher sighed around his burger, "So what can you tell me?"

I shrugged in a noncommittal fashion. "She's easy to work with."

My friend shook his head, and the rest of the meal was full of senseless banter, talking about upcoming client events and a networking meeting later in the month.

"I just got put on a pretty big sale, so I'm stoked about it," Fletcher admitted with an excited expression as we walked back. "It's still in the works, but it'll be a huge commission. Keep an eye out for Erkarst when you’re going through the customer accounts, will ya?”

Clapping him on the back, I replied, "Hell, that's awesome, man. You deserve it." He had been working at the company for a little over a year and really wanted to move up, so I was genuinely happy for the guy.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I ignored it until I was at the safety of my office, seeing Clark's name on my screen.

Clark: Still on for 7 p.m.?

Me: Yeah, I'll see you at my place.

I hated the way my stomach flipped and I hoped to God this nervous energy would leave me after we had a few filming sessions under our belt, because I still had such a sense of unease working with someone new. But deep down, I knew as much as Clark was simply tolerating me, she wouldn't do anything to sabotage my work. It just wasn't in her nature, which is why I wanted to work with her in the first place.

Now what the fuck was I cooking for her dinner?

Steaks werewhat I was cooking for dinner. When my mother began working her second job, I was the oldest and, therefore, the one who could use the stove without parental supervision. I loved cooking, and I had a special recipe for steak that pretty much just included a lot of butter. The apartment smelled heavenly, and I threw a random bag of frozen vegetables in a separate pan to sauté; when you grow up living on the poverty line, you learn how to make a 99-cent bag of frozen vegetables into a delicacy. I was no longer on that line but keeping my money busy in stocks, savings and putting it away to keep Maria out of Charle’s clutches had me living modestly, at least for now. Charles would ask questions if I bought a high rise on the beach. Even though I totally could. Besides the taxes you pay on my kind of income? Yikes.

I popped the cork off a bottle of wine with my teeth, blowing it into the sink. I was just plating everything when I heard a knock at the door, a tad less timid than last time but still hesitant.

The door opened easily now that I had fixed the sticking latch and revealed Clark, hands pushed deep into her jeans pockets, her green sweater seeming to bring out the rich brown of her eyes.

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