Page 64 of Their Arrangement
I wasn’t scared of being seen. I was scared of how much I wanted them to look. When the doors opened onto the Lawlor floor, the air hit different.
Sharper.
Cooler.
Like it had been waiting.
I stepped out.
And heads turned.
Not all of them.
Not loudly.
But enough.
A ripple through the air. A stillness at the corners of vision. My heels struck the marble in crisp rhythm. My hips swayed in the skirt’s forced precision.
I didn’t look at anyone.
But I felt it.
Felt the eyes.
The judgment.
The hunger.
The confusion.
And somewhere beneath all of it?—
The power.
It wasn’t mine.
But it was on me.
And in this moment?
That was enough.
One assistant looked me up and down. Blinked.
A man I didn’t recognize adjusted his tie. Another woman smirked like she’d seen a girl make a mistake and couldn’t wait to watch it fall apart.
I kept walking.
Felt the burn of my own thighs where the lace rubbed with every step. The pinch of the corset with every breath. The heel click that wasn’t quite steady enough.
But I kept going. Because that’s what they wanted. Because I didn’t know how to stop anymore. I hadn’t made it halfway down the hall before he appeared.
Royal.
Shoulder against the wall. Coffee in hand. Grinning like he’d been waiting hours just to eat me alive with his eyes.
“Well,” he said, his gaze dragging from my throat to my hips to my knees, “someone learned how to say thank you.”
