Page 121 of Their Arrangement

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I didn’t breathe for twelve full seconds.

15

CLOE

The knock came justafter six.

No one ever knocked that early.

I opened the door to find no one there—just a black garment bag draped over my doorframe, like it had been hung with care. Like a gift.

Or a trap.

A velvet-wrapped box sat beneath it. Tied with a deep red ribbon. A cream-colored envelope perched on top, my name written in bold strokes, no signature.

I carried it all inside like it might vanish if I blinked. Set it on the bed like it might bite. I opened the envelope first.

No note.

Just a card.

Wear this. No excuses.

My pulse kicked.

The ribbon came undone with one pull—sliding like silk between my fingers.

Inside the box: lingerie.

But notjust lingerie.

A corset of black lace and satin—boned, delicate, and obscene in its elegance. A whisper of matching panties, more suggestion than coverage. Stockings. Garter clasps with gold accents. A blouse—blush pink, so sheer I could see the curve of my palm through it. A high-waisted black pencil skirt, perfectly tailored. Expensive. Precise.

There was no signature.

But I didn’t need one.

I knew.

Barron.

I should’ve been furious. Should’ve thrown it back in the box. Should’ve said no. But instead, I touched the lace like it might moan for me. Slid my fingers down the curve of the corset and imagined how tightly it would hold.

And something… shifted.

Not shame.

Not fear.

Desire.

Raw and slow and new.

I stripped slowly. Laid my clothes on the chair with trembling hands. Paused. Looked down at my bare skin. The small curve of my stomach. The subtle dip of my waist. The bruises that still lingered on my thighs from nothing but tension.

I stood in front of the mirror in nothing but the morning light and bare skin. Then reached for the corset. Lacing it was hard. Brutal. Every pull drew my waist tighter. Every pass of the silk ribbon sent a new flush to my cheeks. My breath shortened.

And I liked it.

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