Page 68 of Their Arrangement
Wolfe.
His voice was low.
Sandpaper-soft.
Velvet-rough.
“You wanted me to.”
I swallowed.
My fingers hovered above the keys.
And then?—
“And now you’ll spend the whole day remembering…”
A beat.
“Who saw you first.”
He didn’t touch me.
Didn’t wait.
Just walkedaway.
Left me wet.
Panting.
Completely undone.
With nothing but a screen full of meaningless numbers and the echo of his voice in my blood.
9
CLOE
By noon,I couldn’t feel my ribs anymore.
The corset had become a vise. A slow, elegant torture device made of lace and expectation. Every breath scraped the inside of my lungs. Every shift in my chair felt like punishment.
The silk bow at my throat was still tied.
Still perfect.
I was not.
I kept my back straight—because slumping made the boning bite. I crossed my ankles under my desk so the garter wouldn’t catch. I clutched the mouse like it might steady me, but my hand kept slipping. Sweat made the underside of my palm slick.
I hadn’t eaten.
The idea of food turned my stomach.
My spreadsheet blinked up at me with quiet judgment. Budget projections for Q3. Loyal had asked me to reformat them three hours ago.
I had. Then unformatted them by mistake. Twice.
