Page 104 of The Rules
Katherine paused in the doorway, crossing her arms defensively as she lifted her eyebrows at him. Despite the nervous flutter in her stomach, she kept her expression neutral, refusing to show any sign of the unease crawling up her spine.
"Where is everyone?" she asked, her tone dry and wary.
Ben looked up from his desk. His face was calm in a way that felt calculated rather than natural.
"I asked them to come in an hour later today," he replied, his voice even and completely unreadable.
Her stomach tightened instantly. What the hell kind of meeting was this? And why was she the only one who hadn'tbeen informed? The selective nature of his invitation—or lack thereof—made alarm bells ring in her head.
She leaned against the doorframe, forcing herself to smile crookedly as though this were just another day, just another conversation.
"Didn't make the VIP list?" Katherine asked lightly, trying to cut through the tension that hung thick between them. "Could've used another hour of sleep."
His face jerked—barely—but it was enough. Enough to make her pulse trip. It was such a small movement that calling him out on it would seem paranoid, but it was enough to unsettle her further. The tiny crack in his composure spoke volumes.
He's not laughing,she thought, her internal frown deepening.He's not... anything.
The absolute stillness of his response was more alarming than if he'd shown anger. This controlled blankness was deliberate—a mask hiding something she couldn't quite identify.
His gaze sharpened. Like a scalpel. Lethal calm. Icy rage wrapped in civility that made her skin prickle with warning.
"I needed to talk to you," he said, voice low, soft, controlled—the kind of control that masked something far more dangerous beneath.
Katherine straightened. Her pulse kicked like a warning shot against her throat that she prayed wasn't visible. The smile slid from her face as though it had never existed.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice steady but careful. She took a step closer, then another. The air between them thickened, charged. Every instinct screamed to stop,
to turn back—but she kept moving, as if drawn in by something she couldn’t see.
Each step felt like moving through quicksand.
Then the stillness hit. Heavy. Absolute. It pressed against her chest, making her lungs feel too small.
Ben looked up.
And in that instant, Katherine felt her entire body lock.
His stare wasn’t loud. It didn’t shout. It didn’t need to.
Because itshowed. Not pain. Not grief. But something deeper. Darker. Rage coiled like smoke behind his eyes—silent, patient, lethal.
His eyes were midnight—glassy, gleaming, merciless.
And for one breathless second, she saw past the mask.
Not the leader. Not the lawyer. Something feral. Uncaged.
"You tell me, Blondie," he said, measured and razor-sharp, each syllable cutting through her defenses like they were tissue paper.
Katherine's breath stuttered, caught painfully in her throat.
A cold sweat broke across her skin, her stomach dropping as though the floor had disappeared beneath her feet.
There it was. The name.Thatname. The one whispered in her ear by faceless men in the dark, slipped to her with hundred-dollar bills, called out over pounding music—part of a life Benjamin Sinclair was never meant to collide with.
And yet, here they were.
Daylight and darkness. Flesh and facade. Two lives that should have never touched, colliding in the sterile stillness of his office like glass hurled at concrete.
