Page 5 of The Arrangement
Chapter 2
Chloe
Three … Four … Five … Six …
The elevator dings, and the doors open to the executive level.
A rush of sandalwood-scented air floats into the lift and guides me onto dark hardwood. An oversized desk anchors the space, and a copper-colored airplane hangs from the ceiling by an invisible wire. It’s classy with a touch of fun.
“Did you get your muffin?” Brandi asks from behind the desk.
“Is that a serious question?”
She laughs. “Jason came up a few seconds ago and said not to let you get distracted. You’re to go straight to his office.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
Her eyes sparkle as she settles against her seat, awaiting the next move in my latest situation involving my boss. Our back-and-forth amuses Brandi. It amuses me, too.
Jason and I met the summer I turned seven. My parents had just divorced, and my mother began housekeeping for Jason’s mother, Rory. Rory was kind enough to allow Mom to bring me with her. I spent those long, sunny days romping through thevast Brewer property with the two youngest kids, Bianca and Tate.
It was the best summer of my life—especially one scorching July afternoon.
Tate was making me pitch a baseball to him in a grassy area next to the pool. My arm was getting sore, but I wasn’t about to complain. I wound up, launched the baseball at the makeshift plate, and stepped on a bee.
I screamed bloody murder.
Then, out of nowhere, one of Tate’s older brothers scooped me up in his muscled arms and carried me like a princess into the kitchen. Through my tears, I committed everything about Jason to memory—the scent of his sweat, the kindness in his eyes, and how safe I felt with him. He was my hero, and I’ve been slightly smitten with him ever since.
I tap my raggedy fingernails against Brandi’s desktop. “What are the odds that I could get you to lie to him for me? Tell him I had to go to HR for an emergency. Or that I got up here and got violently sick and had to head home for the greater good of humankind?”
“What in the world did you do this time?”
I grimace at the memory. “Can’t tell you. But rest assured, it was something I’ll have regret dreams about for the rest of my life?—”
A buzzing sound cuts me off. Brandi snickers as she pushes the speakerphone button.
“Yes, Mr. Brewer?” she says.
“Don’t tell him I’m here,” I whisper.
“Did I just hear Chloe?” he asks.
My eyes go wide. “What the hell? Do I not have any privacy today?”
“Get back here,” he says.
His tone is firm and rough. Yet a hint of mischievousness is embedded in the words, making me smile—and raising my temperature.
“Yes, sir,” I say sweetly, turning toward the hallway leading to his office. I’m stopped by a tissue being thrust at my side.
Brandi hits a button, and Jason’s call is disconnected.
“Wipe your mouth. You have a tiny blue stain in the corner right there.” She touches the side of her lip. “I can’t let you go back there looking like you sucked off a cartoon character.”
I take the tissue from her. “This is why you get paid the big bucks.”
“Sure.” She laughs, holding out a small wastepaper basket. “You can repay me by telling me what this is all about.”
