The Arrangement Anthology 2(102)

"We're all the same. Have you realized that? Me, you, Jon the jerk, Bryan, and Sean. Peter seems normal." I make a face.

Trystan laughs. "The man swing dances. Plus, he has Sydney. He's happy and that's the antithesis of normal." We both laugh before Trystan takes a long slow pull of air through his open mouth. "I'll kill him if he hurts you." He's dead serious.

"I know."

We stare at each other, but no one speaks. I have no idea what's between us. All I can notice is how much he seems like Sean sometimes. It's like Trystan is a mirror of Sean's past. I suppose that's what Trystan sees when he looks at me. The girl who got away, the woman whose name didn't quite slip past those pink lips last night. I feel bad for him. Hell, I feel bad for me. We're both love-struck and the person we hold dearest is gone. I get the feeling Trystan told her to take a walk the same way I told Sean I couldn't do this anymore. I want tender touches. I need hugs. I can't go on with the constant roughness and head games.

I'm not sure who could.

I touch Trystan's hand, which makes him drop his gaze and look at the touch. "There's no such thing as destiny or soul mates. Luck comes to those who take it. I'm taking it. Please understand."

"Oh, I do. All too well, actually. If you're not back in five minutes, Bob is coming. If Bob doesn't come back, I'm coming, and you don't want me in there."

I smile like he's cute, until Bob shakes his head. "The boy has a temper."

"Stop calling me that." Trystan and Bob seem to have known each other for a while. I wonder if Bob was around when the papers found out the heartthrob Day Jones was actually Trystan Scott.

"Yes, sir." Bob grins at Trystan and they both laugh. Then, Bob points a sausage of a finger in my face. "Five minutes, Miss Stanz. That's it. And try to find out more information than what your gut tells you, since it seems to be misleading you at times." Bob offers a smug look before opening the door.





CHAPTER 11

I'm standing before Henry's huge house. A towering black door, with panels of glass and wrought iron nearly twenty feet high, rises before me. My heart beats faster. If he's been trying to kill me, will he be dumb enough to shoot me on his porch? I lean in and ring the bell.

I have no idea what I'm going to say, if I should be direct or do something else. I should have thought this part through more, but something told me that I couldn't come up with a plan. I'd have to play it the best I could, because I have no idea how he's going to react. On our last visit, Gabe kicked the crap out of him after he tried to beat me to death. Okay, I see Bob's point a little clearer now, but I'm not letting Mrs. Ferro have a thing to hold over Sean's head, not if I can help it.

The door opens and a man in a suit is standing there. He's older, thin, and has a white mustache with grayish skin. He looks ill. Even so, he stands with perfect posture, just like Henry. "Yes?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Thomas." Suddenly, I feel under dressed. I'm wearing jeans and Trystan's shirt with a pair of old Chucks. I straighten like I belong here and don't drop my gaze. Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I add, "He's expecting me."

"Come in." The man steps back and leads me into a massive foyer of marble and stone. Everything is white and cream rock. It's cold and beautiful at the same time. "I'll tell him you're here. A name, madam?"

"Avery." I look around at the artwork on the walls, the paleness of it. There's no color to be found, not here. It's almost as if he wanted to present a sterile version of himself before letting his guests into his house. I wonder if each room is different, if Henry will lead me to a rainbow room because that's what I'd like most or if the entire house is like this.

A massive staircase is to my left and a moment later I hear footfalls coming from above my head. When Henry comes into sight, I freeze. Fear pumps through my veins the way it did before. I have three minutes before Bob shows up. Talk fast. Say something.

"Henry, it's good to see you."

His eyes scan my body. "So this is what you look like during daylight hours. Creatures of the night are typically deceitful, but this transformation is remarkable. Give my compliments to your employer."

"Miss Black will be grateful to hear it."

He grins like a wolf about to devour a pack of sheep. "Not that boss, the other one. Or haven't you heard who you're really working for?" He taps his finger to his chin and cocks his head to the side. "Innocent or naïve? Those two traits walk hand in hand, and with you it's so hard to tell."

"Wow, that was flattering." My brows lift and my snark comes out. I can't help it. He's still standing four steps above me, looking down on me like I'm trash.