The Arrangement: Chapter 12

Waking up this morning felt like emerging from a fog, especially when I reached out, half-hoping to find Maksim still beside me. But, of course, it was just me, clinging to the lingering scent of him.

But on my desk—a note from him. My irritation melted into a fluttery excitement. Maksim is an enigma, wrapped in a bit of mystery. His words on paper are sweet, but he’s all intrigue and hidden depths in person. It’s both exasperating and exhilarating, especially since he managed to give me so much pleasure and so many orgasms without even burying himself deep inside me. The man’s got skills I’ve only ever dreamed of.

Lying in bed, holding onto that note, I’m fully immersed in the Maksim experience. He’s a blend of mystery and warmth, a man who, despite his shadows, brings a light into my life I’m still trying to comprehend. Lost in these thoughts, I’m genuinely excited about what the future holds.

Getting up, I tuck the note away like it’s a treasured secret. Maksim Morozov is a puzzle, complex and intriguing, and I’m more than ready to discover all his hidden facets.

As I’m trying to shake off the sleep and get my day started, I find my mind drifting back to Maksim. Specifically, his voice—there’s something about the way he spoke, all firm and commanding, that’s stuck with me. In the heat of the moment, him telling me what to do, commanding me… I never pegged myself as someone who’d be into that. But, surprise, surprise, I was way into it. It was hot, feeling safe, being tuned into someone else’s lead, especially when that someone is as dialed in as Maksim.

There’s this rush in letting go, in trusting him enough to take the reins. It felt like I was in these incredibly capable, albeit slightly dangerous, hands. And the more I think about it, the more I realize I’m itching to dive deeper into whatever this is. There’s a whole world of experiences Maksim hinted at, and my curiosity’s got the better of me. I want in, even though every sensible part of me is waving red flags and warning signs.

But, caution be damned, there’s this part of me that’s just craving more. More of that control, more of that release. It’s a tightrope walk between what I know I should do and what I want to do. And right now, want is winning by a landslide.

So, with that whirlwind of thoughts making a mess of my brain, I hustle to get dressed. It’s a new day, and apparently, I’ve got new interests to contemplate. I’m just smoothing down my shirt when I step out of the office, right on cue to see Nicky walking in, arms loaded with coffees.

Even with the promise of a fresh coffee and the start of a regular day’s work ahead, my mind’s still half-tangled up with thoughts of Maksim. Thoughts of last night and, if I’m being totally honest, thoughts of what could happen next.

Nicky throws me for a loop. ‘You know you’re not due for another hour, right?’

I can’t help but question him, my eyebrows arching up in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

He just grins, setting down a coffee in front of me. ‘Thought I’d get a jump on the day, you know? Figured I could lend a hand,’ he explains, all casual like it’s just another Tuesday when he’s decided to be an early bird.

I’m about to dive into a whole spiel when he’s already making tracks to the back, presumably to gear up for the day ahead. So there I am, coffee in hand, a bit stumped. Nicky’s a great guy, but I really don’t know much about him, beyond the basics and the fact that he’s a solid worker.

Shrugging off the confusion, I take a grateful sip of the coffee – Nicky’s timing is uncanny; I needed this. Then, it’s down to business. I flip open my laptop, pulling up the schedule for the day. A small, relieved smile creeps up on me when I see Howard the Great Dane’s name missing from the list. Don’t get me wrong, Howard’s a sweetheart, but man, his bathroom breaks are something out of a horror movie.

The phone’s ringtone pulls me out of my scheduling reverie, and as I make my way to the back office. ‘Hello, Paws and Play, this is Tory,’ I answer, still with a half-smile plastered on my face.

‘Hi, Tory, it’s Ellen. Listen, I’m feeling under the weather today, so Meatball won’t be coming in. I’ll still cover his day, of course,’ says one of my regulars, her voice full of sniffles and apologies.

‘Oh, Ellen, I’m sorry to hear that! I hope you feel better soon. And don’t worry about Meatball. We’ll miss him, but your spot’s here when you’re both ready,’ I reassure her, slipping into my best caring business owner mode.

‘Thanks, Tory. I really appreciate it. See you soon,’ she replies, a bit of relief in her voice.

‘Take care. Get well soon!’ I hang up, chuckling softly to myself about the oddities of running a doggy daycare. You get attached, not just to the pets, but their people too.

The sound of the front doors swinging open catches my attention. ‘Nicky, could you get that?’ I call out, expecting to hear his footsteps or at least a shout back. Silence. Weird. Shrugging, I wrap up my call log and head out myself to see who’s just walked in.

I push through to the main space of the shop, eyes scanning, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever just breezed through the door. But it’s like a ghost town – not a soul in sight. And it hits me: no one’s scheduled to drop off their pup for another thirty minutes.

After the whole whirlwind with Maksim, I’ve been religious about locking the front door, a little slice of common sense in my otherwise unpredictable life. But Nicky, bless his heart, must’ve spaced on that detail. Seriously, where the heck is he?

‘Nicky?’ I call out again, louder this time, my voice echoing in the empty space. Silence. Not even the echo of my own footsteps for company.

The realization that I’m standing in the quiet shop alone, with the door probably swinging in the wind thanks to Nicky’s oversight, sends a ripple of frustration through me. I make a mental note to have a chat with him about security protocols, about locking doors. But first, I’ve got to find him. It’s not like Nicky to just vanish.

With a sigh, I start a more thorough search, peering behind counters, checking the back rooms, even poking my head into the tiny storage closet that barely fits a vacuum cleaner and a shelf of cleaning supplies. But nada. Nicky’s pulled a Houdini on me, and I’m not amused.

‘Great, just what I needed today.”

As if materializing from the shadows themselves, two men emerge abruptly, seizing my arms with a ferocity that sends waves of shock and terror coursing through me.

“You’re coming with us,’ one of them declares.

The cold certainty in his tone makes it clear this is no random altercation. This is targeted, deliberate, and I’m the focus of their unwelcome attention.

My initial shock morphs into pure adrenaline-fueled resistance. I’m kicking, screaming, thrashing like my life depends on it because it might just. ‘Nicky! Help!’ I yell at the top of my lungs, hoping he’s somewhere close, hoping anyone’s close.

In the chaos, I manage to sink my teeth into one of the guy’s arms, a desperate move that pays off when he yelps in pain and loosens his grip. But my victory is short-lived. In the scuffle, I lose my balance, my head connecting with the sharp edge of the counter. The world goes black before I even hit the ground.