The Arrangement: A Novel Novels & Stories

We were in Arran’s alchemy chamber with a powerful scent of chemicals, herbs and steam occupying the chamber. Half of the chamber was filled with books of herbs, alchemy and medicines, while an enormous desk occupied the rest half. Glass flasks containing various liquids in bright vivid colors were connected with glass pipes, with fumes rising from a few of them. While Arran had scattered the test tubes and the set up slightly when he was searching the drawers under the desk for the vial of poison. I had imagined this moment exactly as it was playing out. But I never imagined Diana in it. Diana wasn’t supposed to be here.

“He knows the arrangement.” The arrangement. The word he used for the configuration of the house, the organized fact of my mother at the center of the dinner table and the agreed terms of whatever it was they were to each other. The arrangement. And inside the arrangement, arrived eight weeks ago with a bag and a book and no plan to become what she had apparently become: me. “Does he know about me specifically,” I said. A pause. “No,” he said. I nodded. The rosemary in its corner. The thirty-year plant, the thickness of the old wood at the base, the thin new growth above it, the smell of it in the cold air even without being touched.

If my name is picked, then I have to be one of the ten girls that lines up for him to inspect, like a prize a child might choose at a carnival or something. And then he'll get to choose any one of us he desires. I brace myself as our pack leader draws straws. Please don't pick me, I think. Please don't pick me! Please don't... Our Alpha draws a name. Mine. I stare at him, confused. He looks back at me, eyes cold and merciless. "Katia, come here,” he says. I feel like I'm in a dream as I walk over to him, my eyes downcast.

she whined, green eyes glinting with mischief. She had news for me. "What brings you here, Anabelle?" I asked, already bracing myself for whatever chaos she was about to unleash in my meticulously organized office. Lillian had worked hard earlier on the day to make sure it looked as presentable as it did. My office was immaculate, thanks to her. Every paper and file was placed neatly in its designated spot on the desk and shelves. The papers were perfectly aligned and stacked,I'd have sworn she used a set square while arranging them. Lillian had a rather unique way of arranging things. Folders were color-coded and arranged by alphabetical order. The pens were lined up in a straight row on my

(Thanks)²³ 😁 If you liked it, kindly help to recommend also. I love you all. And, kindly drop a review on this book. Your opinion counts. Thank you. #Hisarrangedwife #MiaandAce❤️ #Africanauthor #Sogratefultoyouall! #Thanks!💕 ---- Here's an addition to my note.😁👇 Alright, I just wanna inform you that I've started my new book; Billionaire's Surrogate. Currently, 12th of July, there's a total of 22 chapters available. And, I'll be updating about 2 long chapters/ 3-4 short chapters a day. Sorry if something goes wrong in the process of updating it.

I grabbed the arrangements from the counter and the floor and the windowsill and I carried them out in pairs, in armfuls, single-handed when my grip was good enough, and I stacked them in the hallway in a growing pile of white petals and dark green stems and that thick unbearable smell that was filling the corridor now and probably traveling down to the floor below and I did not care at all. I was mid-carry, a large floor arrangement cradled against my chest with petals pressing against my chin, when the elevator at the end of the hall opened. Then Kieran stepped out. He was wearing the charcoal coat, the one with the lapels that his tailor had cut to make his shoulders appear even more arch

And I stood in the small back office of Aldwick Books — too large for the room, too unsettled for the afternoon — and understood, with the particular clarity of things you cannot unfeel once you've felt them, that the arrangement had stopped being simple. Possibly some time ago. I had simply been the last to notice.

Chapter 1 BRYNN'S POV He has chestnut brown hair that curves neatly on the forehead. His shiny white skin clashes with the vibrant magnolia printed shirt he has on. He's cradling the new VS's showstopper in his arms and casually framing a kiss on her neck, slowly parting her gorgeous black hair to the small of her back. She looks ethereal. He looks distracted. Ryker is staring hard at me. I'm sipping my chardonnay at this lonely boat cruise I happened to be invited to at the last minute. The stars are gleaming and abundant in the night sky. It's possibly standing in as the head manager of this colossal management company that comes with its own outrageous perks.

I ordered another cup of coffee and settled into the chair, the warmth of the cup seeping into my hands, for once offering a sense of comfort. We began to converse, words flowing effortlessly between us. As conversation swirled around us like a cozy sanctuary, his gaze sharpened, as if observing the weight upon my shoulders. "Why do you look so sad?" he gently enquired, his expression one of genuine concern. I paused, uncertainty tugging at myheart. For some unknown reasons a flicker of trust sparked inside me, and I took a deep breath, deciding to open up to this stranger in the coffee shop. "It's complicated," I finally admitted, my voice tinged with vulnerability. "I'm caught in an arrang

You just had to be thrown off your feet. The books in my store were arranged Alpha-numerically, each genre perfectly spotlighted to complement the eye of the inquisitive reader who wants to pick up a book that is different from their usual. For a book hoarder, my store could be seen as a mine filled with undiscovered wealth and mysteries.