The Arrangement
810 Words
Valentina couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.
She replayed it in her mind over and over, from the warmth of Damien’s lips to the way he looked at her afterward—like she was the only person in the world.
It was frustrating, distracting, and completely unfair.
“You’re ridiculous,” she told herself, staring at the blank canvas in front of her. “He’s just a guy. A really annoying, ridiculously handsome guy.”
The worst part? She wanted to see him again.
Her phone buzzed, and she grabbed it, half hoping it was Damien. But it was Mia.
Mia: Coffee? Or are you still brooding over your billionaire crush?
Valentina rolled her eyes and typed back:
Valentina: I’m not brooding.
Mia: Uh-huh. Be there in 10.
When Mia arrived, she didn’t bother knocking. She barged into the studio carrying two lattes and a box of pastries.
“Okay,” she said, plopping down on the couch. “Spill. What happened at dinner?”
Valentina groaned. “We talked. We ate. He kissed me.”
Mia nearly choked on her coffee. “He what?”
“It was just a kiss,” Valentina said quickly. “And then I left.”
“Was it good?” Mia asked, waggling her eyebrows.
Valentina hesitated. “It was... really good.”
Mia grinned. “I knew it. You like him.”
“No, I don’t,” Valentina protested. “He’s arrogant and overconfident, and—”
“And you like him,” Mia finished.
Valentina sighed. “Maybe a little.”
Mia laughed. “Girl, you’re in trouble.”
Later that afternoon, as Valentina worked on a new painting, her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Damien.
Damien: Dinner. My place. Again.
Valentina: No. I have work to do.
Damien: You can work tomorrow.
Valentina: Some of us don’t have a billion-dollar safety net.
Damien: And some of us don’t take no for an answer. 7 p.m.
Valentina stared at the message, torn between frustration and excitement. He was relentless, and she hated how much she liked it.
By the time she arrived at Damien’s penthouse that evening, she was already rehearsing ways to tell him to back off. But the moment he opened the door, all her carefully planned speeches flew out the window.
He was wearing a sweater and jeans instead of his usual suit, and his hair was slightly tousled, like he’d been running his hands through it. He looked casual, comfortable, and annoyingly good.
“You’re late,” he said, smirking.
“You’re pushy,” she shot back, stepping inside.
“And yet, you’re here,” Damien said, closing the door behind her.
Valentina ignored him and made her way to the living room, where a fire crackled in the fireplace. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the coffee table.
“This isn’t dinner,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“I thought we’d keep it simple,” Damien replied, pouring her a glass of wine.
Valentina hesitated before sitting down. She took the glass he offered but kept her guard up.
“Okay,” she said. “What do you want?”
Damien sat across from her, his expression serious for once. “I want to know more about you.”
She blinked. “Why?”
“Because you’re fascinating,” he said simply.
Valentina laughed, shaking her head. “I’m not. I’m just an artist trying to make a living.”
“You’re so much more than that,” Damien said, leaning forward. “You’re talented, passionate, stubborn as hell... and you drive me crazy.”
Valentina’s heart skipped a beat. “Damien—”
“Let me finish,” he said. “I know I can be... intense. And I know you don’t want to be swept up in my world. But I don’t want to let you go, Valentina. So let’s make a deal.”
She narrowed her eyes. “A deal?”
“No expectations,” Damien said. “No strings. Just us, enjoying each other’s company. No pressure, no rules.”
Valentina stared at him, her mind racing. It sounded simple, but she knew better. Nothing about Damien Renaud was simple.
“And what happens when it gets complicated?” she asked.
Damien smiled faintly. “Then we figure it out.”
For a long moment, Valentina said nothing. She didn’t trust Damien—not completely—but she couldn’t deny the pull she felt toward him.
“Fine,” she said finally. “But if you start acting like you own me, I’m out.”
“Deal,” Damien said, holding out his hand.
Valentina shook it, ignoring the spark that shot up her arm.
“This is a terrible idea,” she muttered.
Damien’s smile widened. “Maybe. But it’s going to be fun.”
- Writer
