Page 94 of Their Arrangement
The office noticed.
They always did.
Not with gasps or wide-eyed stares. No, the Lawlor floor didn’t give attention freely.
But I saw the way two assistants paused in their conversation when I passed the espresso station.
Heard the scrape of a chair shifting behind me when I walked through the bullpen.
Felt the eyes on the back of my neck, right where Barron had told me to leave exposed.
I kept my chin up.
I moved like the floor was mine.
Even if my stomach was tying itself into knots beneath the corset I hadn’t worn today. Even if my fingers still ached from gripping the safe door two nights ago. Even if my dreams keptending with Wolfe whispering say thank you while my knees hit something cold and unrelenting.
The moment I stepped onto the executive floor, I felt it.
Them.
Their energy.
The air shifted, like the building had braced itself.
The receptionist—perfect, polished, always unimpressed—didn’t ask me where I was going. She just gave a single nod.
“They’re waiting for you in conference two.”
Waiting.
For me.
Not to scold. Not to humiliate.
To see.
To test.
To tighten the leash they claimed wasn’t there but wrapped around my throat all the same.
I walked.
My heels echoed.
Every step louder than I intended. But I didn’t slow.
The door was already cracked open when I reached it. I pushed it wide.
And there they were.
Four brothers. Four chairs.One empty seat.
No one spoke.
Not at first.
Then Royal smiled without teeth and tapped the armrest beside him.
