The Arrangement: A Novel Novels & Stories

After that he let me sit down while he carried on his conversation with other people. "Now back to Clementine's question," spoke Beverly as she sat down in the chair besides me and crossed her legs, "how did you and Mr Aebischer meet?" I just shrugged, exhausted form keeping up a charade, "arranged," was what I said. "Ah, just as we suspected," Clementine said as she looked around the room, "almost every single couple in this room was arranged. Myself, Beverly and Emma are arranged to rich assholes who can barely wipe their assholes without getting tired."

"What do you mean your things are kind of in my room,Why?" "The other bedrooms don't have any beds,I set my room up so he could stay there."I walked closer to him as he stood by the stairs."It's going to look weird if I'm caught in a different room than you are,Jeremy." "You're worming your way in to my bed,Vanessa. That kiss ment nothing,You realise that,Don't you?" He's so arrogant it hurts just to look at him sometimes."I'm not trying to worm my way into your bed. All I care about is people finding out about this Arrangement.My brother would never look at me the same again if he found out about this."

I walk around through the shelves, it was all arranged in alphabetical order of genre, within each genre, and the books were arranged in the order of the title’s first letter. Everything looks so organized and clean, I entered my favorite aisle that is literature. As soon as I entered, I took a step back, because there stood a boy with worn out black leather jacket and hair styled to perfection looking through the books like a small boy in candy store. “Please close your mouth; flies may enter your pretty mouth.” I close my mouth immediately and my cheeks turn red in embarrassment. He starts chuckling looking at my state and I swear I heard him say, “Cute”. Or it could just be my overthinkin

"Since the beginning. All the details. The apartment, the chef's labels, Ji-yeon's choices. How much of what's happened has been— arranged." He was quiet long enough that she heard the building settle around them, the specific sound of an old structure in a cold night. "The practical things," he said finally. "The apartment, the logistics. Those were arranged because they needed to be." A pause. "The rest of it I couldn't have arranged if I'd tried." "The rest of it," she said.

And soon it would explode. “What are you trying to say Padre?” “The Van Tessins tried to snatch that Godwin kid Giovanna. Eight years ago, but they botched it. The kid got away and made it to his car. They chased him Figila right over that cliff. The Van Tessins are responsible for the death of Adam Godwin…” ***End of book 2, story continues in The Proposal (Book 2 of The Arrangement Series)***

“Tonight’s our last night - our last chance to do this before it’s too late, and we get figured out.” “Liviana, there’s nothing to figure out.” Leona sighs. “Arranged marriages are common in this world. People won’t bat an eye if or when they find out that yours and Blaze’s marriage is exactly that, an arranged marriage.” “Maybe not.” Liviana shrugs. “But what will they do when they find out we lied to them? Lying isn’t very trustworthy and I’m not sure they’ll want to be in business with someone they view as untrustworthy.”

~~LENA~~ The heat hit us the second Niccolò shattered the remaining glass in the window frame with the butt of his pistol. It wasn't a roaring inferno yet, but a thick, heavy, chemical smudge that tasted of melting plastic and old bond paper. The air was a yellowish-grey soup, hanging low under the corrugated steel roof of the shipping terminal. Niccolò slipped through the opening first, dropping into a low, tactical crouch on the oil-stained concrete floor. I followed immediately behind him, the sharp edge of the black steel box cutting into my side as I hauled myself over the sill.

Shelves are divided in two parts; a few on the left and the others on the right, with a walkway in the middle to access both sides. I move further inside, nearing the first shelf on my right. One look at the book arrangement and a smile appears on my lips. The books are arranged in an alphabetical order. I further confirm this by moving to the shelf on the left, the books on there start with the letter C on the top and D at the bottom. Walking to the back of the room, I near the open window, where a gasp flies out my lips. There’s splattered blood on the wall, dried and forgotten. When was the last time anyone walked in here?

She reorganized her bookshelf twice. Not by color this time — she'd already done color, that was a September system, and she was in November now, and November required something different. She tried alphabetical by author, which was sensible and correct, and lasted approximately twenty minutes before she started moving things around by feeling, which was less sensible and more honest, and ended with Didion next to Baldwin next to a dog-eared Marilynne Robinson she'd read four times and a slim collection of poetry she'd bought at Margins and hadn't opened yet.

I had never stepped foot inside Nicholas’s study before, and I rarely saw Odessa or Alfred venture in there either. As I pushed the door open, my eyes widened at the sight before me. Everything about the room screamed luxury and advanced technology. From the glass floor to the sleek table at the center of the room. When I stepped further inside, running my fingers along the smooth surface of the desk, the faint scent of leather and cedar lingered mingling with the faint scent of Nicholas' cologne but he wasn't in the room. The walls were lined with shelves that stretched to the ceiling and as I got closer, my eyes widened a bit at how meticulously arranged the books were. They were arranged