The Arrangement: Chapter 3
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The Arrangement
A Cal Kestis Fanfiction
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Summary:
A/B/O.
18+ for Smut.
Cal presents an unusual job offer to his favorite hitwoman.
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Chapter 3: The Offer
The spilled groceries spread across my backseat delay me from confronting the Alpha in my home. Bulky bags hang from each arm as I struggle towards the navy blue door. I kick it open, rougher than I should, causing the tarnished copper doorknob to slam into the stone wall.
Cal jumps at the racket but settles when he sees me struggling to navigate the tight entryway. I drop the groceries on the counter and that stupid bag of fruit topples again, rolling across the breakfast bar in every direction. Cal maintains his position in the living room, his hands tucked inside his pockets, tracking an incoming orange that stops its escape at his feet.
After hunting down most of the fruit, I shove them into a wooden bowl and approach Cal to pick up the stray orange. I snatch it, wipe it once on my faded shirt, and toss it with precision into the fruit bowl before whipping around to face my intruder.
The orange bounces off the rim.
My face falls as I hear the bowl tip and spill the fruit across my kitchen floor. The spherical objects scatter across my kitchen floor. Next time I’m getting bananas.
Cal presses his lips together, amusement clear in his green eyes. “You know—”
I interrupt him. “Why are you here?”
He puts his hands up to placate me. “There’s no need to lash out.”
“You broke into my house.”
“It was unlocked,” he says, “plus, you actually did break into my home last night.”
I take a deep breath, bite my tongue, and march back into the tiny kitchen to put the groceries away while stepping over the displaced fruit.
“Why are you here? More importantly, how do you know where I live?”
“Obviously I had you followed home last night,” he says. “I had to make sure you didn’t wind up dead in a ditch with your car full of evidence of a crime I paid you to commit.”
“Doesn’t explain why you’re here today.”
“I wouldn’t have shown up here today if you hadn’t insisted on getting drunk last night.”
“Then you shouldn’t have offered me a drink.”
He sighs, looking anywhere but at me. “I have a job offer for you.”
I return the perishables in my hands to the peeling countertop, giving Cal my full attention now that he has finally said something of interest. I move to the sofa, beckoning him to follow. He glances at the old floral patterned fabric and opts to stand.
“You’ve seen the tabloids.”
“Have I?” My eyebrows raise at his inaccurate assumption.
He ignores me, quoting a headline, “Ireland’s most eligible Alpha is getting old.”
“How tragic.”
He scowls at my nonchalant remark. “My parents have been less than happy with my lifestyle for years. The new headlines are giving them justification to take control of my love life.”
“Sounds like your comeuppance for sleeping around so much,” I say, checking my short nails.
“Oh, so you do keep up with the tabloids coverage of my love life.”
There is a brief exchange of glaring and smugness. I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to think of something clever. I’m too slow and he continues.
“As I mentioned last night, I have no desire to settle down. But my mother…” He trails off.
I slap my thighs and stand up, understanding his predicament. He startles at the sudden movement.
“Alright, I’ll do it. But it’s gonna cost you. Way more than the previous jobs I’ve completed,” I say.
His eyes scan over me, as if trying to read my mind. “I suspected this would cost more. But I haven’t told you the exact nature of this job.”
“Cal-orie, I don’t require a sob story to do my job,” I say. “You want your mother dead, and I’ll make it happen.”
“WHAT? I don’t want my mother dead! What is wrong with you?”
“What do you mean ‘what is wrong with me’? You said you had a job offer!” I raise my voice right back while taking a step back.
“Yes, I do, but not for that!”
A heated silence passes, and he relaxes, but I don’t. How dare he act like I’m the unreasonable one. I storm back into the dimly lit kitchen and finish putting the last few groceries away, including the fruit. He follows me into the tight quarters.
“I can see how maybe I didn’t preface this conversation correctly,” he says.
“Who do you want me to kill?”
I attempt to keep my attention on anything but him. But I can see him nervously shifting out of the corner of my eye. It’s unusual to see an Alpha showing appeasement behavior.
“It’s not,” he says, “a typical job.”
“Then I’m afraid I’m not for hire,” I say, then take pity on his submissive demeanor. “If you tell me what it is, I may have contacts who can assist.”
He frowns, but remains blocking the only exit to my kitchen. “I wouldn’t be comfortable using someone new,” he says, “it’s high stakes and a lot of money, and I you’re the only person I trust.”
My ears perk up at the sweet promise of a lot of money. But I’m still mad and I don’t trust his sudden change of character. So I busy myself with cleaning the counter to avoid looking desperate.
I’m not saying a damn word until he tells me what he wants.
“Since you always commit fully to any job I’ve given you,” he says, “no matter how ridiculous you have to be to do it right.”
“I’ve never been ridiculous!”
He smiles as I whip around to face him. Not the practiced smile I’ve seen on the covers of the tabloids. He appears amused, and I assume it’s at my expense.
“What do you call using Tony to complete a kill?”
I tap my temple twice. “Creative problem solving.”
Cal’s light chuckle transforms into a full laugh, as if he remembered something. “I did have the pleasure of meeting Tony while waiting for you to arrive.”
I grimace and turn away, returning to my unnecessary housework.
“It’s surprising how lifelike they make those things look. Clearly, the color isn’t remotely accurate, but the anatomy certainly is. I’m surprised the base has a kno—”
The dirty rag I’ve been using hits him in the face, stopping his words. He shakes it off, looking unimpressed, and it falls into a heap at his feet.
“Right, anyway,” he says, “as I was saying, you are a professional, and I trust you to do every job exactly as I requested. Hell, there’s been no suspicion of my hit being a professional kill. They think it was gang related.”
“I take pride in my work,” I say.
“Precisely, so I’d like to pay you handsomely to do an excellent job of getting my parents off my back.”
Cal’s holding his breath. His lack of typical confidence while simultaneously buttering me up is putting me on edge. I shake off the paranoia and lean a hip against the counter.
“What sort of job is this?”
“I need you to be my girlfriend for about a year,” he says.
“No,” I say, “nope, no way, absolutely not.”
His expression doesn’t change, as if he’s waiting for me to finish. I charge forward, trying to escape the kitchen - but he doesn’t clear a path.
I don’t really want to squeeze by him, so give up my attack and retreat. “How does this help your situation?”
He smiles, a fake one, and relaxes. “All I need is for you to date me publicly and seem like you’re ‘the one’. I’ll make it look like I’m getting close to proposing, then you cheat on me. We go through a messy and very public breakup and my parents leave me alone for the rest of my life as I ‘mourn’ you,” he says, using air quotations for emphasis.
The tinnitus in my ears grows louder each second we stare at one another. This is a horrible plan. I’d give up an entire year of my life to wind up slandered by the press.
“I’m not doing that,” I say. “See yourself out and don’t contact me again unless you have an actual job for me.”
Cal crosses his arms, still not moving out of my way. “Please, it’s not like you have anyone, anyway. I already vetted you last night.”
“Wow, so that’s why you were asking those weird questions,” I say. “Of course, that’s why! Obviously, the Alpha who uses women to warm his bed would exploit me, too.”
“I don’t use women! They always leave satisfied. They know exactly what, and who, they’re getting into bed with when sleeping with me.” Cal defends himself as though I’ve insinuated that he kicks puppies.
“Gross! Don’t tell me that!”
“What I’m saying is I’m not trying to use you. I’m asking for your reliable help in exchange for a lot of money.”
“How much money?”
He softens his tone, speaking to me as if I’m a frightened animal. “I’m open to negotiating.”
“What’s your starting point?”
“The amount I would spend on an engagement ring. Divided out into monthly payments for the entire year.”
“How much is that?”
He takes a breath, appearing more like himself, or at least, the self I am familiar with. The one that lacks remorse when asking me to kill strangers that are in his way.
“Three months’ salary,” he says.
I don’t dare react. I don’t know exactly how much he makes, but I know his family is filthy rich. Three months’ salary for him is likely a lifetime amount for me.
“Four months,” I say.
He scoffs and raises his voice back to its normal volume. “You want fours months’ salary? You’re trying to leave me starving!”
“Oh, please! I know for a fact that you don’t live on the money you earn monthly. You probably have a Scrooge McDuck vault of money that you swim in for exercise each morning.”
He smirks, dropping his sob story act. “I suppose you’ll have to find out if that is a part of my morning routine by dating me.”
“Yeah, sure, maybe…for four months’ salary.”
He sighs and holds out his larger hand. “I will agree to your unreasonable terms.”
I don’t accept the damning handshake. “I need to think about it.”
“Are you serious?” The cocky expression falls from his face.
“Of course I’m serious. This is no small decision. It’s a year of my life I’m giving up!” I huff and walk towards him, shoving him back towards the front door.
“Doesn’t seem like a loss to me.” He glances around my small home as I push him through the threshold.
“Get out! I’ll reach out when I’ve made my decision.”
I try to slam the door closed, but he sticks his polished shoe in the door.
“Oh, and I fixed that horrifying laptop of yours!”
“It didn’t need fixing! It was fine!” I yell back. “Move your foot or I’ll start stomping!”
“I better hear back!”
“You will!”
He moves his foot and I slam the door closed, locking the deadbolt. I wait a few moments to hear his engine turn over and his tires kick up the rocks of my driveway. I march into the kitchen, taking a piece of fruit from the bowl, and throw it as hard as I can at the fireplace.
It bounces off the center stone of the firebox, rolling under my couch.
Fuck.
Song for the chapter: Love Me For The Weekend by Party Pupils & Ashe
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