Page 175 of Their Arrangement
She doesn’t look up. But she knows. I wait until lunchtime. Let her sweat. Let her shift in her chair, legs crossed too tight, fingers tapping the desk like she can drum hernerves away.
At 12:04, I send the message.
Office. Now.
No subject.
No punctuation.
She replies in less than ten seconds.
Yes.
She knocks once before entering.
Doesn’t speak.
Closes the door behind her. Stands in front of me like she’s already learned how to breathe quiet. Like she’s ready to obey.
Good girl.
“Undo the top two buttons,” I say.
She hesitates.
Then does.
One.
Two.
The chain gleams.
Thin.
Dark.
Delicate against her throat.
The garnet rests just above her sternum, like it was made to press against the beat of her heart. Because it was.
I step forward.
Reach.
Hook one finger under the chain.
Lift.
Not hard.
Just enough to make her tilt her chin.
“You wore it.”
She nods once. Eyes wide. Unblinking. I circle her slowly. My hand never leaves the chain. It moves with her. Across her shoulder. Down her back. Like a leash she hasn’t been trained to pull against.
“Why?”
