Page 35 of Their Arrangement
His eyes skimmed the curve of my blouse. The dip of my waist. The hem of my skirt. The files in my hands trembled. He dragged his gaze back up. Unhurried.
When our eyes met again, I forgot how to breathe. Because he wasn’t looking at me like I was a mistake. He was looking at me like I was next.
I stood there, motionless. The hallway behind me carried voices. The buzz of admin meetings. The scent of overpriced coffee.
But I felt none of it.
I felt only him.
Watching.
Assessing.
Claiming—without touching.
And then, just as casually as he’d looked, Wolfe turned back to the women around him.
Like I hadn’t mattered. Like I’d been measured and shelved. But the weight of his gaze stayed. Pressed between my thighs. Crawled beneath my blouse.
I forced myself to walk.
Not too fast. Not too slow. Just enough to pretend I was still in control. But my chest was tight. And the files dug into my arms. And my panties were damp with shame I refused to name.
Thisfloor wasn’t just colder.
It was his.
Heat punched through me—unwanted, unwelcome, undeniable. I turned. Walked faster than I should have.
The files were wrinkled at the corners by the time I reached Loyal’s office. My arms ached from gripping them too tightly, but I didn’t loosen my hold. Couldn’t. They were the only thing keeping me from unraveling.
But all I could feel was Wolfe’s gaze. Still there. Still crawling across my spine like a brand I hadn’t asked for. Like a name I hadn’t earned.
I made it ten steps before I felt him behind me. Not footsteps. Not breath. Just… presence. The way a shadow stretches before you see the man casting it.
I kept walking, trying not to look back. Fast but not panicked. Controlled. Or trying to be.
The files crushed tighter to my chest, my heart beating beneath them like it was trying to escape.
You weren’t watching him.
You weren’t jealous.
Lies.
I could still feel the heat between my thighs. The shame. The confusion.
Still hear the effortless laugh of the woman who touched his arm like she’d done it a thousand times. Who looked at me like she already knew what I wasn’t: chosen.
I turned the corner.
And stopped short.
He was already there. Leaning against the wall across from the elevators. Waiting. Like he knew where I’d end up before I did. His arms were crossed. His stance casual.
But his eyes?—
They weren’t casual at all. They were locked on mine. Dead on. Sharp enough to pin me to the marble.
