The Arrangement (unenhanced Edition) by AnnaRCase (good novels to read TXT) 📕

Just like her nights of self-pleasure, Amberleigh’s daily life had fallen into a routine of sorts. First on the daily agenda was to practice her guitar loudly when Mr. Duvall was around. That was her favorite part of the day really, as she liked to drag her guitar up the roof top garden, where he wasn’t allowed to leave her unsupervised. She tried to choose the most annoying songs known to man and butcher them over and over. It was his job to watch her after all, might as well make him earn his pay

After her jam sessions, she’d hit the kitchen with Leo for a few hours. Where things were not as fun as they used to be. Leo was still moping over fucking things up so badly with Elle and all those unresolved issues. Not to mention his feelings for Amberleigh, which were forbidden and inconvenient.  Amberleigh would try and cover the awkwardness with stupid jokes while Leo would be cordial and laugh. But it was often painful and clear things weren’t the fuckin same between them.

After lunch, Amberleigh would work on her Italian so she could understand all the bitchy things Angelina said unware the hired whore was deciphering more and more of it. Angelina was not a very nice person and only disliked Amberleigh less than she did the other maids. Angelina had even been so kind as to give everyone in the Penthouse pet names in Italian of course. Amberleigh was dubbed as fake tits, which actually wasn’t true. But kind of flattering actually.

Angelina liked Grayson, probably because he treated her like she was invisible, but she hated Leo. It seemed she’d been subjected to his singing one too many times and to add insult to injury, believed herself to be a far superior cook. But hating people was a common theme with Angelina, and often for tiny infractions, such as the sound Maria’s shoes made across the marble floors.

Amberleigh’s afternoons were spent knitting socks for Maria’s children while she watched reality shows to feel better about herself. To be fair what she was knitting, sort of looked like socks anyway, but it was still a working progress. Her favorite shows were about people with hoarding tendencies and strange addictions.

Before dinner, in the hours Leo and Grayson pretended she didn’t exist, Amberleigh would hit the gym, though it seemed both her work out buddies had perfected the art of avoidance. Avoidance of being with her in the confines of the gym room anyway. Or any room for that matter. But it was clear, they were both still working out to keep their amazing bods. At least she could still look but not touch.

                Dinner was an always an awkward affair without fail. Leo was hellbent they would all eat together family style and talk about their day. During which Grayson would only half-listen, give one worded answers, while the majority of his time around the table was spent with his eyes glued to his smart watch. Leo would get pissed over it and attempt to get them all in a conversation about some safe topic. Amberleigh would have little to add to the conversation as five-year-olds had more exciting lives than her these days.

                After dinner, she’d help Leo clean up the mess, while Grayson locked himself in his room to brood and work again. They’d make plans of what she wanted to learn about the next day for her cooking lessons. She would retire to her room, shower, fuck herself, then Grayson would appear around midnight or so. Boring, missionary, passionless sex would follow. She’d finish herself off, watch TV until she fell asleep. Then repeat the whole cycle again.

                Well at least until what was supposed to be day five of their baby making window, when Grayson hit pause on that fuckin cycle when he didn’t come home from work that afternoon. It wasn’t anything new as far as Amberleigh was concerned.  Just seemed the billionaire was falling back into his normal habits.

                She helped Leo prepare dinner. She watched him shoot Grayson some texts. Watched Leo get increasingly annoyed by his friend’s lack of response. And by the time, Grayson was thirty minutes late for dinner, Leo was going from being pissed to edged with worry over his friend’s absence.

                “Okay, let’s just eat. We’ve waited enough time for him. Dig in,” said Leo.

                Leo served her a generous portion of Alfredo on her plate while she drizzled her salad with oil and helped herself to a breadstick.

                “Looks delicious. I’m starved. I’m sure Grayson will turn up soon enough. Even if he doesn’t it wouldn’t be the first time he stayed out all night Leo.”

                Leo’s eyes went back to his watch as he shook his head, “No. This isn’t like him. He always sends me a text to let me know if he’ll be late or staying over somewhere.”

                Amberleigh took a bite of her pasta which naturally fuckin melted in her mouth. Leo wasn’t even touching his food. It was clear he was legit worried. But Grayson was a grown ass man, probably just being inconsiderate, nothing more.

                “I’m sure there’s no need to worry Leo…Maybe he hasn’t responded because he’s a bit busy. Like fucking someone busy.”

                Leo took a deep breath and got up from the table, “I’m going to try calling him again. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll call his office and find out what time he left.”

                Amberleigh saw no good reason to let perfectly good pasta go to waste, as Leo left the kitchen, she ate her whole plate of food. Grayson was just out fucking someone, probably Courtney Van Tessin. He was nothing but a selfish asshole who would let his best friend worry himself silly, rather than just take two seconds to respond to a text. But why was Leo so worried in the first place?

                Lots of twenty-five year old dudes stayed out all night or half of it. What made it so alarming that the billionaire did the same thing? What wasn’t Leo telling her here? Did it have something to do with all those pill bottles in Grayson’s room? Was Grayson sick? And if so, with what?