Page 26 of Their Arrangement

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Not hungrily.

Not kindly.

Like he was measuring something.

And didn’t like what he saw.

I felt it in my spine.

In the heat that bloomed between my legs—humiliating, involuntary.

Because it wasn’t attraction.

It was survival.

I felt like prey.

Like a thing.

And somehow, it made my knees weaken.

He said nothing.

Did nothing.

Just watched.

Until I looked away.

Because I had to.

Because I couldn’t stand to feel that seen.

Not by him.

And when I finally glanced up again, he was gone.

But I still felt him.

Like fingerprints on the inside of my skin.

I stopped walking.

I couldn’t help it.

The air changed as Wolfe moved. It didn’t shift. It thickened. Like the building was holding its breath.

He pushed off the wall with the kind of quiet confidence that didn’t require power suits or titles. Wolfe didn’t move like a man in charge.

He moved like a man who had already claimed everything—and was deciding what to do with it.

He took one slow step forward.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t glance.

Just passed me.

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