SWNOVELS The Arrangement: Chapter 1
‘Sorry if I’m off today. This is all so surreal.’
Ty leans on the counter, his eyes heavy with concern.
‘Please, who can blame you? One second you’re mourning at a funeral, the next you’re playing nurse to a goldendoodle with fleas. If you ask me, you’ve definitely earned the right to tell the world to fuck off. Maybe you should take the day off. I told you I’d hold down the fort.”
‘I appreciate it, but honestly being here is therapeutic.”
In the dim light of the cold afternoon, Paws and Play daycare feels more like a refuge than a business.
Ned was only thirty when a heart attack took him out of nowhere—no warning signs, no health issues, nothing. But his sketchy ties to the Russian mafia and his wild stunts put him in the line of fire. Honestly, given all the shady stuff he was mixed up in, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to the story.
Ty inches closer, his voice soft. ‘How are you really coping?’
I let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of his question.
‘It’s like a strange dream. I mean shouldn’t I be a frantic mess after the death of my boyfriend?”
Ty gives a soft chuckle. ‘With all due respect to the departed, Ned hardly merited the title of ‘boyfriend.’ You know how I felt about him—always self-centered, always looking out for himself. At least now you don’t have to stress about the inevitable breakup that was coming.’
‘Maybe you could give me a little more time to grieve before you lay out such truths?’ I say, half jokingly.
‘I could,’ Ty replies, ‘but I’d rather celebrate your funeral chic,’ his eyes gleaming as he surveys my outfit. ‘You transition from graveside to work, still outshining everyone in Wicker Park—it’s almost criminal.”
A genuine smile breaks across my face as I glance down at my funeral attire, hastily covered by my work apron. The absurdity of it all isn’t lost on me.
At first, Ned was everything you could wish for in a partner—charming, thoughtful, seemingly perfect. But as our relationship progressed, a different picture emerged. The charm gave way to deceit, the thoughtfulness to manipulation and the need to control all aspects of my life. I always felt like he was hiding things from me but I could never get him to open up to me.
Finally, I resolved to break things off with Ned.
But then fate intervened.
Now he’s gone.
I begin, filling a bowl for an energetic beagle named Benny. ‘I reviewed last month’s accounts, and for once, we’re not submerged in losses.’
“From red to black? That’s progress! Next stop, the land of green pastures!’ Ty chimes in with a grin.
‘Yeah, but how do we keep our heads above water?’ I sigh, watching Benny enthusiastically attack his water bowl.
‘Keep the faith, Tor. We’ve got a solid crew of regulars, and that’s more than a lot of places can brag about,’ Ty encourages, giving me a playful nudge. His voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper, ‘And speaking of assets,’ he nods towards the window, ‘check out the mystery mogul across the street. A little eye candy might just make you forget all about your dearly departed troublemaker.’
‘Ty!’ I exclaim, but curiosity wins, and I sneak a peek outside.
Across the street, perched nonchalantly on a park bench, sits a man who looks like he’s straight out of a silver fox G-Q photoshoot.
Broad shoulders fill out a dark, impeccably tailored suit, and his salt-and-pepper hair adds a distinguished touch that’s hard to ignore.
He sits with a poise that screams confidence, casually surveying his surroundings like he owns them. Definitely in his forties, and definitely distracting enough to momentarily blur the memories of any less-than-stellar ex.
Bad idea, Tory.
“The last thing I need right now is to complicate my life any more than it already is.’
Ty chuckles, turning his attention back to Lucy. ‘Girl, who said anything about complicating? I’m talking about a little harmless fun. You know, the kind where you don’t call him back the next day. And the guy’s clearly loaded.”
“What gives you that idea?”
“The suit – that’s bespoke all the way. And I’d recognize a Patek-Phillipe from across the city.”
Men with money have never attracted my attention, and the man across the street is no exception. Something else draws me to him, though, something I can’t quite put my finger on.
“What’s he even doing there, anyway?” I ask.
Ty shrugs. “Probably just enjoying the view. It’s not illegal to sit on a bench, you know.”
The man is a total enigma.
Handsome, yes, but with a strange, serious air about him I can sense even from a distance.
My heart tugs with curiosity, yet my mind is firm—there’s no room for distractions, especially not of the male variety.
Ty glances at his watch, a not-so subtle hint that he’s ready to be done for the day. ‘Looks like it’s about closing time,’ he says. ‘Got my evening stuff done. Need me to stay and help wrap things up? I can totally understand if you’re not in the mood to do the books for tonight.’
I shake my head, exhaustion pulling at me. All I want to do is go to bed and sleep. ‘No, you go ahead. You’ve done more than enough today. Seriously – over and above the call of duty.”
He pauses, his smile flickering with a hint of concern. ‘Sure? How about you come out with me and the gang for drinks? Might do you some good to unwind a bit.’
The offer tempts me for a fleeting moment—the promise of laughter and distraction. But fatigue, both physical and emotional, claims victory. ‘I’m just too tired. I’d be a total Debbie Downer. But thanks. As soon as these two get picked up, I’m going home.’
Understanding dances in his eyes, and he steps forward to wrap me in a hug, a brief but comforting embrace. ‘Alright, take care of yourself, Tor. We’ll catch up later. And please, please call me if you need anything. I know Ned was… well, Ned. But this is still a loss. Don’t underestimate it, okay?”
“Okay. And thanks again.” I smile at Ty warmly, letting him know his words and efforts are appreciated.
As he steps out the front door, I can’t help but glance toward the mysterious man still seated outside. The moment Ty disappears, the stranger’s gaze lifts, meeting mine through the glass. A jolt of something— apprehension mingled with an inexplicable attraction—tightens in my stomach. His eyes, dark and intense, seem to pierce through the distance, leaving me feeling exposed and oddly fascinated.
With a shake of my head, I turn away, leading the dogs to the door as their owners show up to pick them up. I then make sure the door is locked before flipping off the front lights. The comforting routine of closing up offers a semblance of normalcy, a distraction from the unsettling exchange and the draining day.
Retreating to my office, I aim to finish the day with one last task—an email to our clients, thanking them for their understanding during the brief chaos of Ned’s passing. He’d handled the behind-the-scenes business of the shop, so there was no need to break the news in a heavy sort of way. I get to work, the familiar click of keys under my fingers soothing, a mundane task that grounds me.
Mid-sentence, the sound of the back door opening breaks the silence. Assuming it’s Ty, perhaps having forgotten something, I call out without looking up. ‘Forget your keys again?’
But the silence that follows isn’t right. Ty would’ve responded with a joke or a quip, filling the room with his presence. A prickling sense of unease crawls up my spine, the earlier tension resurfacing as I realize the heavy silence might not be Ty’s to break.
Stepping out of my office, the quiet of the shop presses in on me, unsettling in its emptiness. No sign of Ty or anyone else. Confused, I pivot back toward my office, the faint echo of my own footsteps a stark reminder of how alone I am.
Just as I sit down, I feel a presence behind me. I gasp when I find the man from the park bench and leap out of my chair.
He stands like a statue, filling the doorway with his imposing form. Up close, he’s even more alluring.
And intimidating.
He’s tall, his frame blocking out the dim light from the hall, broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist. His dark hair is cut short, practical yet somehow managing to add to his rugged allure.
A scar marks the right side of his neck, evidence of a life I can barely imagine, yet it does not detract from his looks; if anything, it lends him a sort of raw, undeniable edge.
Dressed in a tailored suit that seems at odds with his bouncer-like build, he exudes an air of calm, professional composure almost more potent than if he’d carried a gun.
My heart races, fear mingling with a reluctant fascination as I instinctively reach for the scissors on my desk, gripping them tightly enough to feel the metal bite into my palm. He notices the movement but only smirks, as if my attempt to defend myself is more amusing than anything else.
‘My condolences for your loss,’ he says, his voice smooth, betraying none of the tension zinging through the air between us. His tone is rich, deep, so resonant I can feel it in my bones.
‘My loss? How do you know about that?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, the scissors gripped tightly in my hand.
He takes a step closer, and I fight the urge to step back. ‘I’m an acquaintance of Ned. And I’m here to let you know that he left behind a sizable debt with our organization and used this business as collateral.” He gestures to the building that surrounds us. “I’m here to collect.’
Our organization.
Doesn’t take a genius to know what that means.
The words hit me like a physical blow, my mind reeling at the implications. ‘You think I have his money?’ Fear drips from my words, despite my attempts to project confidence. The scissors in my hand feel more useless by the second. Trying to use them as a weapon would end up with me disarmed and bent over the desk, his hand on the back of my neck.
His gaze is unwavering, analyzing my every reaction. ‘ The debt needs to be settled.’
The reality of my situation crashes down on me, the danger Ned has left in his wake now standing in my office, embodied by this calm, dangerously attractive man. My grip on the scissors tightens, not out of any real hope of defense, but because it’s the only action I can take in a situation that feels increasingly beyond my control.
I’d known Ned was involved with the mob. Hell, as much as I hate to admit it, his mob ties were one of the things that attracted me to him. I’d always had a thing for bad boys, immature though such an inclination might be. But he was a low-level guy, not high up enough in the ranks to get himself wrapped up in any real, dangerous intrigue.
Or so I’d thought.
Shock paralyzes me for a moment. The idea that Ned, despite all his faults, would get us caught up in something like this, to put my business—my dream—in such danger, is almost too much to take.
‘Sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
There is something about him, something that urges me to speak to him with deference.
He nods, as if he’s already factored my ignorance into his calculations. ‘Maksim Morozov,’ he says, correcting with a calm that belies the bombshell he’s just dropped. “Call me Maksim. And you’re Victoria Olsen. Though your friends call you Tory or Tor.”
God, how much does he know about me?
I shake my head, desperation edging into my voice. ‘Listen, Maksim, I don’t have any money to spare. This place isn’t exactly a gold mine. We’ve only just started to see a profit.’
His eyes flicker to the scissors I’m still clutching, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. ‘I’m not going to harm you. You can put those down while we chat.’
I’m not convinced, my grip tightening rather than loosening. ‘I think I’ll hold on to them, thanks. It’s not every day a strange man corners me in my office demanding money I don’t have.’
Something shifts in Maksim’s gaze then, a flicker of respect, maybe, for my refusal to be cowed. It’s disarming, unsettling even, to see this hint of approval from a man who represents a world I want no part of.
‘Ned died of a heart attack,’ I blurt out.
Maksim’s expression is unreadable, his eyes holding mine in a steady gaze that gives nothing away. ‘I know. And I’m sorry for your loss, as I said. All the same, there’s the reality of the debt. I’m here to collect, and that’s what I intend to do.”
I’m standing on a precipice, the ground crumbling beneath my feet, and Maksim Morozov, with his calm demeanor and dangerous allure, is the enigma at the heart of my turmoil.