The Arrangement Audiobook Novels & Stories

This morning, he was even in the car. Unfortunately or fortunately, he hasn't made any more moves to touch me since then. "Excuse me, I have an appointment with Mr. Stone" A female voice snaps me out of my train of thoughts. I look up to see a beautiful young woman smiling sweetly at me. "Your name please?" I ask opening up Hunter's schedule folder on my computer. "Dr. Keller" She responds making me scroll up and down trying to find her name.

She knew she could do nothing but agree. When I arrived on the veranda, I found Auden sitting quietly reading a book. There are a few people who are assisting us with moving our things so that Auden does not have to act any longer. I have a lot of important things to ensure and keep safe, which is why I assist them. There are some important papers that cannot be entrusted to other people. We put the boxes down on the sofa in the living area. I'll organize these later when everyone is here. I handed the juice to Kenny and so did I. While drinking I couldn’t take my eyes off the man outside and still quietly reading.

I said glaring at her, she rolled her eyes at me and shook her head at my behavior as the black Mercedes arrived. “You could have at least let me know of your plan” Kiara said as Vladimir opened the door for her, the white Jeep just stopped behind the Mercedes. “You would have been like, no, that would scare the woman” I said mimicking Kiara’s voice, she glared at me. “First, I don’t sound like that, and second, yes, you would have scared the woman”

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

Why would Nero ask for my things to be moved to his room when he had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me. Anxiety built up in my chest as I got closer to his door. It was now a room I had come to hate. Nothing good ever happened it except pain and torture. I took a deep breath, and raised my hand to knock on his door. “Come in” I jumped a little from the sound of his voice. I pushed the door open and walked inside, concluding that today might be the last time I ever get to be alive. The room was darker than usual and as promised, I could see that the maids had my things arranged in the same manner they were before I moved out the last time.

Oh crap, so this was how he planned to lay things out—just dump it all on the table and then sort out the pieces. It was the same way he put together a puzzle—zero logic or planning. James was not an outside-edge-first kind of guy, and he never looked at the picture on the box. No part of this scenario could go well. If I thought I could hold my breath during the entire revelation, I would, just so I didn't miss a single word. It was a sadistic kind of anticipation that my husband wouldn't fare well in.

The boy had commandeered what appeared to be an entire shelf’s worth of books, arranged in an elaborate configuration around him that I couldn’t immediately identify as structure but he was clearly very invested in it. He was talking while he built, a continuous, confident narration of his own process that required no encouragement and no audience response, just a voice that had apparently decided the room needed filling and had taken on the responsibility enthusiastically. Margaret stood near the far bookshelf, arranging some books on the lower shelves with the expression of a woman who had made peace with the reorganization of a room she had maintained in careful order for decades. Arthur

I needed to do something normal, something routine, to scrub the lingering sensation of Maya’s breath against my ear from my skin. I pulled a stack of textbooks out, Biochemistry, Anatomy, Organic Chemistry, and placed them on the desk, aligning the spines perfectly with the edge of the wood. Thud. Thud. Thud. The rhythm was soothing. It was the sound of order. It was the sound of the next four years going exactly according to plan. Behind me, the rustle of fabric was too loud, too deliberate. I didn’t turn around. I focused on lining up my highlighters in a color scheme, yellow, orange, pink, green.