Page 6 of The Arrangement

"Sorry, the door jamb is messed up. Anyway, bathroom’s over here," Quinn grunted, looking a bit awkward as one of his hands rubbed at the back of his head like he wasn't sure what to do with me now that I was inside, shivering on his tile floor.

I nodded, clutching my towel close to me as I followed the gesture. Neither of our apartments was very large—maybe 900 square feet—but he had organized his so that it seemed spacious and open. Modern and masculine, but with a warmth to it I couldn't quite explain.

The bathroom looked the same as mine, save for the clawfoot tub, which was replaced with a tiled shower. I locked the door behind me quickly, questioning my decision for the hundredth time as I turned on the faucet. But the water was hot, and the soap that had dried on my skin was beginning to itch, so with a deep breath andanother check to the locked door, I dropped my towel to the floor. I sighed as the hot water rolled over me, scrubbing at my skin and tipping my head back to allow the delicious water pressure to cleanse the suds from my hair. Despite the temptation to stay under the spray a bit longer, the collection of men's bathroom products reminded me that I was in my neighbor's shower and should leave as soon as possible.

It was definitely one of the quickest showers I had taken in my life, and I scrubbed my damp skin just to dry it enough for me to slip sweatpants over my hips. The t-shirt was oversized but clung to my back, my long hair plastered to the clothing. Dragging a towel that was rolled underneath the bathroom vanity to sop up the puddles I had dragged in, I looked around the small space for a place to throw it. He had to have a hamper in there somewhere. I felt a bit weird opening his cabinet, but I didn't want to leave a wet towel for him to pick up, especially when his apartment looked like…well, how it looked. I found a black plastic hamper hiding behind the cabinet door, where mine was as well. As I tossed it in, I paused, because next to the folded washcloths was something black. I looked over my shoulder like Quinn was just waiting behind the shower curtain to catch me snooping. I don't snoop. But I am curious. Hesitantly reaching out I picked up the black fabric left sitting on the white wash clothes, like it had been tossed in complete disharmony to the room around me. Something in my stomach flipped as I realized what the course material was sitting in my hand.

A mask. Not just a mask, but a black balaclava.

I dropped it like it was on fire before quickly picking it up and stashing it back where I found it—and staging it to look like it had been completely untouched.

I rolled my towel up under my arm and waited for a beat, listening to the room outside. It was dead quiet. What if Quinn was a serial killer? That would explain why his place was so clean. Killers were clean freaks, right?

"You good, Clark?" A deep voice rumbled from beyond the bathroom door, startling me away from the cabinet and the evidence of my curiosity.

"Yes, yes! I'm done," I stammered, hoping that I sounded innocentand not like I had just found a ski mask thrown in his cabinet. Maybe he was a skier? There were mountains close by, right?

Opening the bathroom door to the rest of the apartment sent goosebumps rising over my skin, the humid heat leaving me as soon as I stepped outside of the small room. I took hurried steps towards the front of the house, no longer taking my time to stare at the unfamiliar surroundings but focusing instead on the white-painted front door.

"Thanks again, Quinn," I called, trying to sound normal as I peered around the corner into the living room, where he was lounging on that black couch with his phone in hand.

He waved his hand, barely looking up from his device as though he was reading an extremely important email. I took the out and quickly darted back to my apartment, the cold tiles of the hallway like ice on my now-warm feet.

Door locked, wet hair clinging to me, I let out a sigh of relief before allowing a groan to escape me. What the fuck was that?

A few hours later,and with freshly towel-dried hair, I shot an email to my landlord that I knew he probably wouldn't read until noon the next day and collapsed into bed, my mind still reeling with what I had found in Quinn’s bathroom. I also felt ridiculously guilty for my curiosity on top of it. The man had been kind enough to let me use his bathroom, a woman who only ever called him by his last name and traded brusque barbs within the hallway. It was none of my business.

I had a million things on my mind, too much even for Wolfe to quiet. But Wolfe wasn't the one on my mind; it was Quinn. The spotless apartment, the obviously high-end appliances, art, and general aesthetic of an apartment I had never once thought to wonder about. The most I had ever thought about the man was how annoying he was, bringing over every woman in the city it seemed. And not just having house guests but fucking them hard enough that I could hear the very amorous cries at every hour.

And the mask. My thoughts immediately went to Wolfe, and evenin the privacy of my room, I blushed scarlet. That sex worker had turned something as innocuous as a mask into something that stirred a very primal part of me. Though the thought of that grave, deep voice made me want to pull my vibrator out of my side desk, I refrained. I wasn't an animal, after all. The cup of tea I had brewed almost fifteen minutes ago to help the chill that had seemed to settle in my bones sat untouched on top of the book I had been meaning to read for over a month.

I settled myself in for the night, lukewarm tea in hand as I finally cracked the spine of a novel that was to the point of collecting dust.

I didn't even think about Wolfe, Quinn, or the mask. At least, that's what I told myself as I banished the images from my mind as soon as they materialized. You know, like a responsible adult.

Chapter 4

Sebastian

Four months. That's how long I have been living in this apartment, and with barely a nod in my direction. So tell mewhy now, after I hear a scream loud enough to wake the dead and a crash that I can only assume was a body hitting the floor accompanied by banging that, to be honest, I could not identify with a gun to my head. As I ran out of my unit and banged on the door of Unit 1, I hoped that scenario wouldn't be the end result just because I was trying to be the good guy.

"Clark! You okay in there?" I yelled, wondering if I should just call the cops and maybe not cause a panic for the entire building. After a couple more knocks, the door was suddenly ripped away from me mid-knock and replaced with a short, angry-looking Clark with one eye closed like a pirate and a towel hastily wrapped around her. She was soaking wet, with a trail of suds running down her very bare legs.

"Are you okay?" I asked in puzzlement because, honestly, I had no idea what I was looking at right now. "I heard a crash and screaming?"

"Yes, I'm okay!" Georgia snapped, rubbing her eyes furiously. "My water just turned off, and the pipes were banging and?—"

"Did you pay the bill?" I asked,because—to be honest—that happened to me so often. I finally put the damn things on autopay because what the fuck else was I supposed to do? Not have water or heat?

"Quinn, I am twenty-six years old,” She retorted angrily, looking at me as if I was an absolute neanderthal. “Of course I paid my water bill."

"Okay, well, if you're okay…" I muttered and pushed off from the door frame back to my apartment as I heard the door slam shut behind me.

It really is true what they say about shorter women; they are angry as hell. I mean, okay, technically, she wasn't short, maybe pushing 5'8, but I was about shy of6'4, and she barely came up mid-chest. So, you know, short.

After reentering my unit, I lazily went and turned on my faucet just to make sure it was just her unit that had lost water and not the whole building. Shrugging when my water came on with a problem, I turned my attention back to my TV.

I had just bought the monster plasma screen thinking my last one was too small, as I’d had problems seeing the images clearly, only to find out I had a slight astigmatism that needed corrective glasses for TV or reading. But win-win because I still got a big-ass TV, and Natalie told me I looked "distinguished" in glasses, so I really couldn't complain.

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