Page 22 of Their Arrangement
Not right away.
But I felt him.
Felt the weight of his presence like it was draped across my skin.
I opened my notebook and tried to look busy. Tried to look competent. Tried to look like I hadn’t just power-walked across the floor like an imposter with a countdown in her chest.
ThenRoyal looked up.
Just once.
Just long enough to rake his gaze over me from behind his lashes.
And his mouth curled. Slow. Sharp.
Like he knew I didn’t belong.
Like he liked it that way.
I dropped my eyes and started writing.
The meeting began. They spoke about acquisition targets. Price per carat. Market value. International holdings.
It may as well have been another language.
I scribbled anyway, dragging down bullet points I didn’t understand, words I planned to Google later. Terms like “equity conversion” and “valuation tiering” filled the margins.
I was five minutes in—knees pressed tight, trying to disappear—when Royal leaned back in his chair and tapped the table in front of me.
“You taking notes, little intern?”
I looked up, startled.
“Yes,” I said too quickly.
His smile widened.
“Show me.”
I blinked. “Sorry?”
“You’re supposed to be learning, aren’t you?” His tone was mild. But his eyes weren’t. “Let’s see what you’ve absorbed.”
My stomach dropped.
Loyal said nothing.
The third man watched with passive interest, like this was part of the meeting agenda.
My hand shook as I turned my notebook and slid it across the table.
Royal picked it up with two fingers like it might bite him. He flipped through it lazily.
One of his eyebrows lifted.
“Youspelled ‘valuation’ wrong.”
The older man chuckled softly.
