Page 142 of Their Arrangement
Then I walked out. Because when I finally touch her? She won’t just saythank you. She’ll fucking beg.
I didn’t go back to my office. I walked. No destination.Just distance. The break room door swung shut behind me. But I could still feel her eyes. Still trembling. Still flushed. Still wet for someone who didn’t even lay a hand on her.
I made it to the garage. Got in the car. Didn’t start it. Didn’t reach for the key. Just sat there. Staring at the wall like it owed me answers I already hated. The ache didn’t go away. Not the one in my cock. Not the one in my chest. I pulled out my phone. Scrolled back to the message.
Thank you.
Still there. Still echoing. Still hers.
I didn’t delete it. Couldn’t. I read it again. Then hovered my thumb over her name. I didn’t call. But I wanted to. Not to hear her voice. To hear what she’d say if I told her to kneel.
I let the phone fall to the passenger seat. Leaned back. Closed my eyes.
And for some reason, I saw Camille. Barefoot. Smiling. Standing in my kitchen like she owned it and the whole fucking world. She used to tuck her hair behind her ear when she was thinking. Tilt her head. Say something that made it easier to breathe. She was light. And she was mine. Until she wasn’t.
Cloe isn’t light.
She’s a fuse.
Lit.
Burning.
Beggingfor someone to strike.
And fuck me?—
Iwant to be the one who does.
The man wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in the building. Not on this floor. And definitely not walking toward my office with that smug, entitled smile like he belonged.
I intercepted him at the elevator. No words at first. Just presence. Just pressure. He stopped when he saw me. Raised his hands like I was holding a gun.
“Wolfe,” he said, too familiar. “Didn’t realize this floor was off-limits.”
“It is.”
I didn’t raise my voice. Didn’t need to. Because the look in my eyes said what my fists were already itching to confirm. He worked for us—but just barely.
A diamond handler out of Antwerp. Good with border customs, bad with boundaries. He was supposed to stay off-site. Always. Never show his face in the tower.
And yethere he was.
Arrogant. Polished. Late forties. Toned in a way that said he paid for it. His shoes too shiny. His watch too loud.
“You should’ve called,” I said.
“I thought we had an arrangement.”
“Youthoughtwrong.”
He smirked. That was his first mistake. I stepped closer. The smirk faded. That was his second.
“You don’t walk into this building unless you’re summoned. You don’t breathe near my people unless I give you air. And you don’t ever speak my name again like we’re fucking friends.”
He didn’t reply. The elevator behind me opened. Perfect timing.
I gestured with my chin. “You’re leaving.Now.”
