The Arrangement: The Seduction (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

  Text copyright ©2014 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by H.M. Ward. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements of The Arrangement remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of H.M. Ward, or their affiliates or licensors.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  A Note From The Author

  About the Author

  Carly's Booklist

  The Seduction

  Carly Philips

  Prologue

  Music blares through my headphones as I study for an exam in one of my advanced business courses. It’s my senior year in college, and I’m so close to the end I can taste it. Taste it. Hah. Considering I want nothing more than to be a chef one day, that’s the perfect line. One step at a time though. Finals first.

  I move my head to the beat of the music, letting the words on the page rhythmically enter my brain. I’m weird, but that’s how it works for me.

  Suddenly I think I hear my father’s yell. I rip off the headphones and listen.

  “Chloe, get yourself down here now!” He doesn’t sound happy, and I scramble off my bed, rushing to see what he wants. It’s never a good idea to keep either of my parents waiting.

  In the kitchen, my father paces back and forth while my mother stands, hands at her waist.

  “It’s about time,” Dad says.

  “I was studying.” I glance at my mother. Her face is pale, and my dad looks furious. My stomach flips, and I wonder what I did to upset them now.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “What’s wrong? Joseph, she wants to know what’s wrong.” My mom’s voice reaches a high, anxious pitch, and she gestures to the laptop on the counter. “What kind of trash allows herself to be caught on video having sex?”

  “What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But my stomach roils, and I know I just might throw up.

  My boyfriend, Scott, and I recently started sleeping together. He’s my first, and taking that step was a big deal. I might be twenty-two, but I waited. He knows what it meant to me. He wouldn’t record something so personal. So special. Would he?

  “See for yourself!” My mother points to the laptop again. Steps over in her designer heels and clicks play.

  My face flashes quickly across the screen. I recognize the dress. As if in a dream, I see Scott untie the strap on my halter in a move I thought at the time was sweet. Images keep coming. Memories, my memories, flicker across the screen, raw and painful.

  I can’t bear to watch and I look away.

  “Oh no. If I have to see it, so do you,” Marion, my mother says.

  I fold my arms across my chest, pressing hard against the building pain, and glance at the screen. I try to turn numb as the awful movie continues, my body out there for anyone to see.

  “How?” I ask. “Who sent it to you?”

  “It’s gone viral,” my father grits out.

  My mother tucks her perfect blonde hair behind her ear. “Violet’s daughter showed her, and she thought I should know and be prepared.”

  What about me? Didn’t anyone think to break it to me gently?

  I glance at the screen. It’s more graphic than I can handle. Devastation and betrayal shoot through me. “Shut it off!” I cry, tears in my eyes.

  “Gladly.” My mother slams the computer top down, ending that part of my torment.

  “I didn’t know,” I whisper.

  “As if that matters. It’s a disgrace. Humiliating. How can your father show his face at work? At the country club? How can I?”

  I glance at my father. He won’t even look at me. My mother has no such problem and glares with utter disdain. I’ve always felt like a mistake they tolerated in life, and somehow I learned to cope, but this was beyond. Their reaction now held no compassion or sympathy. Just pure anger and disgust.

  “What should I do?” I ask, my voice breaking just like my heart.

  My father remains silent and unmoved.

  “Get out,” my mother says. “I can’t stand to look at you.”

  As I run from the room, fresh tears slip down my cheeks unchecked.

  Chapter One

  Four Months Later

  I define my life by the main event. Before the sex tape and after it went viral. It’s ridiculous when you think about it. I’m not a household name. I don’t have big tits or a big ass. I’m not interesting to look at, yet I can’t go anywhere on campus without people staring or laughing. Guys wink and make lewd comments. Girls shake their heads and look down at me.

  Get a life, I want to yell at them. Don’t you have sex? Just because my jerk ex-boyfriend decided to post us doing it on the Internet doesn’t make me a porn star. A laughing stock? Yeah, I have to live with that one.

  I rush home from class, grateful my roommate isn’t there.

  After the scene with my parents, I decided to give my mother what she wanted and get gone. I asked to live on campus, and they agreed. I’m sure they’re grateful to have me out of the house. They jumped on allowing me to leave fast enough.

  I actually wanted to go to culinary school, but the parents refused to go for that. They wanted me to get a business degree so I could do something useful with my life. I still want to please them, though I never will, but at least I’ll be able to use a business degree if I ever open my own restaurant — another lofty goal of mine. So I am going to graduate in May and get my degree. They’re happy to pay for room and board now and pretend the sex tape never happened and I don’t exist.

  Something good came from the nightmare though. It forced me to take a good look at my pampered life and do something about it. The day I moved out, I found a job. I’m determined to make money and learn to stand on my own and prepare for my future. I work at a restaurant that has a bar and grill on one side and finer dining on the other. It’s attached to a hotel in Soho.

  Although I spend a good chunk of time waitressing in the bar side, I also get experience filling in in the kitchen and learning from the chef.

  I’m in my dorm room and I change for work. Tonight is bar work. Black short skirt, tight black top with a low-neck vee, the words The Tavern glittering across my breasts. I’m grateful for comfortable black sneakers I’m allowed to wear while on my feet all night.

  I glance down and remember I need to change my bra. I switch out the regular everyday one for the pop-up special that gives me just the right amount of boobage. As much as I hate it, I rely on the cleavage for better tips. The more I show, the better the girls look, and the more money I make. It’s a hard line to walk, flirting and acting friendly with customers without sending out the wrong message. I might be sex-tape girl, but I don’t want guys to think I’m easy just because I just trusted my ex.

  Just as I finish tying my shoes, the door opens, and Lacey, my roommate, walks in with her best friend, Jules. “Going to work?” Lacey asks.

  I nod.

  “I’m using the room tonight. Find somewhere else to sleep,” Lacey says.

  She’s not pleasant. Since, before this semester, I lived at home, I pretty much got stuck with a roommate nobody else wanted when I moved into a dorm so late in the year.

  I ro
ll my eyes, not willing to just give her what she wants too easily. “Can’t you stay in your boyfriend’s room?”

  Lacey shakes her head, her long hair whipping around her face. Drama queen.

  “Nope. I have a nine a.m. exercise class, and I need to be here to get ready. Deal with it.” She runs a hand through her keratin-straightened hair.

  Like me, Lacey comes from money and can buy whatever she wants. Unlike me, her parents adore her and think the world revolves around her oh-so-special self. So when she wants our room, she expects me to give it up.

  “Whatever,” I say, knowing I’ll lose this fight. She will lock me out no matter what I say, so I grab a bag and shove clothes in for overnight and tomorrow. I’ll just stay with my friend Robin. We met freshman year, and she’s the best friend I have here. Not even the sex tape drove her away.

  A little while later, I walk into the darkened bar. My boss, Tank, runs the bar side while his brother, Trevor, handles the actual restaurant. They couldn’t be more different, and I think that’s why this type of setup works. Tank is a teddy bear with a tough name. He’s a middle-aged ex-Marine with a big heart and bigger mouth.

  He waves at me as I put my things away. “Hey, Chloe-girl!”

  “Hi, Tank.” I tie an apron around my waist and gather an order pad and a pen.

  “Home Yankee game tonight. Hoping for a big crowd.” He points to the big screen television behind the scarred wooden bar.

  “I hope so too.” I could use the tips. I’m lucky my parents didn’t cut me off after the sex-tape scandal, but they said one more embarrassment and they’d do it. I definitely believe them.

  Which was why I decided it was time to stand on my own — as much as someone whose entire schooling is paid for by her parents can. I know I’m fortunate, and I appreciate what I have. But money can’t buy the things that are important, like love and respect. My parents give me neither.

  I actually think it runs in the water in the high-class neighborhood where I grew up. We live next door to Constance Ferro, a woman who scares me even more than my own parents, and that’s saying something. Her sons are decent guys. I’m closest with Sean.

  Once I got past my ridiculous crush on him when I was sixteen and he was twenty-four, he became like the big brother I never had. I think he knew how bad things were in my house and felt sorry for me. I can go to him for anything. He hasn’t had it easy. There was a big scandal when he was accused of killing his wife. He was acquitted, but it didn’t matter to me. I never believed it and still don’t. But everyone else does, and he seems willing to let that stigma stand. Because of that, he hates New York.

  The whole situation makes me sad, and I won’t give up on him. Until recently, he was rarely in town, but thanks to his on-and-off fiancé, Avery Stanz, he’s here more lately, and he was around when I needed help after the sex tape aired. Turns out Avery had been through something similar. They talked me through handling things, and he even gave me a quick hug before tucking me into my car. He reminded me to be strong. I am now, and I’m happy to be living on my own, even if it means dealing with selfish roommates and leering college guys.

  Over the next hour, The Tavern fills up fast. Tank was right. The baseball game brings in a huge crowd. I rush around taking orders, delivering drinks, and ignoring come-ons. And then it happens. The tingling along my spine and the distinct sense of awareness that tells me he’s here.

  He doesn’t have a name. He’s Hot Guy to me and to the other waitresses. And I do mean hot. I noticed him two weeks ago. The first night he came in, he sat in a dark corner in the back of the bar, his gaze obviously on me. I saw the green of his eyes from across the room, and a sizzling sense of awareness rocked through me. His blond hair is longer than on the appropriate guys I used to date, the ones who my parents approved of. Not that I gave them anything for their trouble. No, I saved that present for my asshole ex, and boy, did he make me regret it.

  Back to Hot Guy. I turn, and sure enough, there he is. His gaze burns through me. With his black fitted tee shirt and shaggy sandy hair, he screams trouble, and I’ve had enough lately. My body doesn’t seem to agree, and every time I look at him, a zap goes through me. He’s rough around the edges and definitely older than me.

  I don’t normally react to men on a visceral level, but I’ve never seen one like him. He’s so freaking sexy, and while other guys have to work hard for my attention, he had it from the get-go. I’m just not sure he wants it. Talk about mixed signals. He stares at me but doesn’t make a move. And since he never sits in my station, I take that as a hint.

  He’s not interested. I ignore the dip in my stomach and assure myself this is a good thing, since after the sex tape, I’ve sworn off all men.

  Hours later, my legs ache and I’m rubbing my back when Tank yells for me to take a break. I’d go out back for fresh air, but I don’t like to walk alone to my car after work as it is. The restaurant clientele is long gone, and the bar crowd isn’t always safe. I’m not going to tempt fate by hanging out alone out there during a break when any sleazeball can come by and harass me.

  Harassment happens anyway. I serve a rowdy group of guys I recognize from the university. One in particular is handsy, and he annoys me. I’m serving their second round now, and I hope it’s their last.

  I lean over the table to place drinks in front of the far end when I feel a hand squeeze my ass. “Let go,” I say through clenched teeth. “Unless you want to see where Tank got his name.”

  His friends whistle and make fun of him for getting turned down.

  “She’s a tease and a cunt,” the guy mutters. “Everyone knows she’s a slut. See?” He pulls out his phone.

  I know what’s coming, and I cringe as he plays my sex tape for his friends to see. I straighten my shoulders and ignore him, swallowing back tears. I need this job, no matter how big of an ass he is. I can’t make a scene, but I can deliberately wait to serve the jerk last.

  “Guess you’re not up to her low standards,” his friend says, laughing.

  I place the last drink in front of him, slamming it hard. Beer sloshes over the sides, onto the table. I already lost any shot of a decent tip with this group, so I really don’t care.

  “Hey, bitch, you spilled on me,” the jerk says as he jumps up, his hands balling into fists.

  I look from the liquid that drips off the table to the nice wet spot in the center of his jeans. Then I grin. “Yeah? Maybe it’ll cool you off, lover boy.” I turn and walk away without looking back.

  This night sucks and can’t end fast enough.

  “Rough time?” Callie, another waitress, asks. She’s older than me and bulkier. I think she works out in her spare time. I’m not sure. I don’t know her that well. Since I split time between school and work and study when I can, I don’t have time to socialize outside of work.

  I nod. “A bunch of drunk assholes over there.” I jerk my thumb in their direction.

  “Want me to take the table?” she offers.

  I smile at her. She’s one of the nicer people I’ve met here. “Nah. I can handle them. But thanks.”

  “I feel bad. I’ve got the hot guy in black, and you’ve got the assholes.”

  I shiver at the reminder. “He’s still here?” I’ve been too busy to focus on him.

  “He is. And he asked about you.”

  “He did?”

  Callie nodded, her smile wide. “He asked if you were involved with anyone.”

  I blink in total surprise. Butterflies take off inside my stomach. Though I shouldn’t, I glance over my shoulder. He’s watching me. As if he knows we’re talking about him, he raises his bottle in acknowledgment.

  “See?” Callie’s voice rises in excitement for me. “He’s nothing like the immature guys who normally come in here. I bet he doesn’t even know about you and … you know.”

  I’ve already confided in her. I had to during my first week, when someone called out insults and I felt the need to explain.

  “Not sa
ying the words doesn’t change the fact that it happened. Sex tape. You don’t think he knows that I’m a porn star on the Internet?” I feel the disgust and self-loathing I normally keep at bay slide into me.

  According to my mother, now no decent man will want anything to do with me. But who says Hot Guy is decent, a little voice inside me asks. Maybe he’s a bad boy who would be interested in someone like me. Someone who makes stupid mistakes and bad choices.

  You’ve sworn off men, the more rational side of me argues. I rub at my temples.

  “He’s not in college. Chances are he has no idea. Now stop being so hard on yourself.” Callie picks up the drinks Tank places on the bar and sets them on her tray.

  “Tell me you’d be patting yourself on the back for a job well done if you were me?”

  She laughs. “Chill. That’s all I’m saying.”

  We go back to work. The night finally comes to an end. I’m the last one to finish wiping down my station and get myself together. I think I’m moving in slow motion thanks to the exhaustion seeping through me. I make sure my cell and tips are in my purse, sling it over my neck and shoulder, and start to head out.

  Tank is on the phone, arguing with his girlfriend, when I wave good-bye. He winks at me and goes back to his conversation.

  I walk into the parking lot. I live in the city and could take the subway, but that scares me more at this late hour than parking back here. Besides, if my parents are willing to continue to pay for the car and parking by the dorm, I’m not about to argue. The time will come when I give up the rest of the luxuries they provide, but I’m not ready. Not yet.

  The humid summer air wraps itself around me, unwanted and uncomfortable. The cool breeze of my air conditioner is so close. My small BMW sits close by in a darkened corner. I wait until I reach the door before hitting unlock on the remote. A sense of unease ripples through me as I reach for the handle.

  “Hey, bitch.”

  And now I know why.

  Bile rises in my throat, and I grip the car handle. Do I open it and try to jump in to escape? I don’t think I’d make it inside.