Shadows Embrace

The Arrangement

chapter 1

the bell over the bookstore door jingled at 5:57 like clockwork. for three years, four months, and eleven days. Silas Throne had come into turner's books at 5:57 like he has been for the last three years. he orders a black coffee he never drinks and stands in the history section pretending to read about war he's been in and won, all the while he watches you. you knew because you counted, even ordinary girls like you notice when aa man who looks like he was carved from charcoal and sin starts coming to a small rundown used bookstore like this. most days hes in a charcoal three-piece suit, sometimes even when the weather raise. like today for an example its 80 degrees in the small town of Montesano. he always pairs a blood red tie with his suits, its always perfectly knotted and a matching pocket square- the shade you later learned was called "Smoked Cherry" and it cost more than your rent. his hair in a high bun, black with a silver streak at the temple from something in Helmand he never talks about. black glasses, low on his nose, which he took off when he was tired and pinched the bridge. he had scars too some you could see and others you couldn't.

today was different though, instead of going to the history section like always, Silas came to the counter and sat an envelope down in front of me and said your name for the first time, 

"Elara." your name on his Toung makes you shiver involuntary; it was low and somehow possessive. like he had been saying it for years in his head. 

"Mr. Thorne," you said, wiping your hands on the apron you wore. "Black coffee, right?" a black coffee he always orders but never drinks. his mouth twitches. the closest to a smile he's ever given.

"No coffee today." he says as he slides the envelope across the counter to me. "Open it." 

you give he a strange look but do as your told, inside was a county letter, a red stamped lien- final notice- Thornfield house. the amount you couldn't pay even if you sold the bookstore, apartment, and the ugly China that you got from your grandmother. and cahiers check stapled to it, paid in full, Silas Thorne's signature, sharp and precise. your knees go suddenly weak.

"M-My house.... You...." you stammer unable to finish the sentence.

"Paid this morning at 0900," he said with a calm voice, like he was reporting the weather. "Your grandmother had a second mortgage with the DeLuca family at 14%, they were going to call it tomorrow, you would have lost the house and port." the port, Vale Maritime. a private deep-water port your grandmother owned since 1960, neutral ground for families, worth millions you didn't want and didn't know how to run.

"I-I didn't ask you to-" your voice cracked. you were 28 years old and lived a seemingly ordinary life. you were broken and your grandmother died three months ago; you lived in a studio apartment above the bookstore because the heat at Thornfield died and you couldn't afford to get it fixed.

"I know you didn't," he said "And that's exactly why I did it, you never ask for anything from anyone." he pulled a second paper from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. A marriage certificate, half-filled out. Silas Alexander Thorne, 34, Montesano. Elara June Martin, 28, Montesano. your hands shook as you take the document from him.

"What is this?" you ask, your voice rises slightly in shock.

"An Arrangement," he says, and for the first time in the three years he's been coming into this bookstore he looked nervous, "Marry me on paper for one year, my name goes on the house and port the Deluca family can't touch it. you keep Thornfield, you live there and not above a bookstore with mold. I-" he stops and adjusts his glasses. "I get to have you near. I have wanted you for three years, Elara, I just didn't know how to do this any other way. I'm not a regular man i dont do things the simple way even to get noticed or chosen. so i made sure you had to stay long enough to choose me." you stared at him for a very long time in utter speechlessness'. you set the document down on the counter and lay your hands flat on top of it.

"You've arranged a marriage?"

 "Yes."

"To have me?"

"Yes." no lie. that's what made him dangerous. he didn't lie "I am a mafia leader, Elara. Ex-Army ranger, captain of two tours, honorable discharged because I refused to leave my men behind. my family owns half of the county and thing you don't want to know about. I have a sister her name is Lena and she's 19; she lives hidden because people would use her to get to me. I now own a house with six bedrooms and no heat, not because I wanted it, but because I want you. I am not a good man, I am possessive and dramatic." he says all in one breath, like he was giving a briefing.

you should say no, you should throw the check at him then throw him out, but Thornfield was you house it was meant to be your home. and the Deluca family only wanted it to tear it down and make it into a parking lot. the house is old and is falling apart faster than you can fix it, the floorboards creaked and threatened to give out underfoot and walls that were cracked and peeling.

Silas looked at you like you weren't just some ordinary girl, to him you were breathtakingly beautiful, he looked at you like you were the bravest woman he's even known.

"What are the rules?" you whispered, you knew there were rules, there are always rules you've read enough romance books like to know.

"There are four rules," he said calmly pulling out a waterproof notebook out of his jacket pocket. "These rules are none-negotiable. rule 1) you will sleep in the master bedroom alongside me, rule 2) you don't answer the gate along after dark. you text me or my second Marco, my men died in Helmand for moving alone, I won't have you meet the same fate. rule 3) you wear my ring. this ring never comes off; it means armor no one will see it and think to mess with you. and rule 4) you don't lie to me, not about where you are or where you're going. you don't lie about who you're with or talk to. if you get scared you call me or Marco, if you want me to leave you alone you tell me to my face." he says as he writes. putting the cap back onto the pen. "Break a rule, I will remind you why I made it. I will find you and I will bring you back home and I will remind you of who your husband is." he said it like a promise instead of and order.

"One year?" you asked with a breathy whisper.

"One year on paper. after that if you want to go back to your ordinary life i will sign the divorce paperwork without a fight."

"And if I want to say?" I ask trying to put a little more backbone into my voice. Silas eyes closed behind his glasses briefly and when he reopened them, they were dark.

"Then you will stay forever, Mrs. Thorne." the name makes you shiver as the bell above the door jingles again as the wind blows hard when the weather turns and starts to rain. you picked up the pen he used with shaking hands. then i signed my life away for the next year. Elara June Martin-Thorne.

Silas exhaled like he had been holding his breath. he then reached out "hand," he ordered. once your hand was in his he slowly slid the gold band onto your ring finger before leaning down a kissing it. his lips were just as warm as the ring was from his pocket if not warmer.

"you belong to me now, Mrs. Thorne." he whispered, he leans his forehead close nearly touching yours over the counter, the scent of cedar and gun oil fills my senses. you should be terrified, and you were but you were also, for the first time since your grandmother died, not alone.

you had agreed to this marriage to save a house.

he had arranged a marriage to have you.

you both will learn that you got more then you bargained for.