Page 138 of Their Arrangement
I touched the desk. Fingertips flat. The same way I had in his office. My breath caught. Shallow. Staggered. I was still that girl. Still bent in silence. Still split in places no one could see.
Apinglit up my screen.
I jumped.
Wolfe.
Conference room. Ten minutes.
No subject.
No signature. Just a command.
Another one.
And I hated how fast my pulse jumped.
I didn’t know what he wanted. Didn’t care. Because my body already knew the shape of my next fall.
I looked down at my thighs. Shifted in my seat. Heat bloomed again. Not from fear. Not from shame. From hunger.
Because Barron hadn’t fucked me. But I’d never been more owned.
18
WOLFE
She cameout with her head down. Not in shame. In something worse.
Afterglow.
I watched her from behind the glass. She didn’t see me. No one ever does—until it’s too late.
Her blouse was rumpled. Two buttons undone. Her lipstick smudged at one corner. She adjusted the top of her skirt like it still clung too high.
And I knew. I didn’t need proof. Didn’t need a camera. Didn’t need to ask. I fucking knew. My jaw locked.
I pressed two fingers against the edge of the windowsill to keep from breaking something.
She walked like her legs were shaking. Like her thighs were too slick to move comfortably.
And Barron?
His office door was still open. Not wide. But wide enough.
Wide enough for the assistants to glance up and glance away. Wide enough for the boardroom two doors down to gosilent. Wide enough for every single person on this floor to know.
He didn’t close it.
Because he wanted them to know. And that? That made something in my chest crack. I turned away.
Because if I looked one second longer, I was going to put my fist through the glass. Behind me, a security notice pinged. A digital signature from a logistics handler we’d buried two years ago.
I didn’t check it. Didn’t open it.
I didn’t care. Because the only thing I could see was the silk of her blouse sticking to her chest. The way she adjusted the skirt like it still held the print of someone’s palm. My brother’s palm.
I gripped the edge of the console. Hard. Knuckles white. Control bleeding at the edges.
