Page 139 of The Rules
Kath pushed to her feet, anger sparking hard in her chest. The frustration that had been simmering beneath her skin all morning finally boiled over. She'd spent days—weeks—building this case, and they were still dancing around the edges instead of striking at the heart.
"We need to go after Sterling & Co. directly," she said, her voice tight with conviction. "Pressure their past employees—build a pattern."
Ben's expression didn't change, but something in his posture hardened. He looked up at her with that infuriating calm that made her want to throw something.
"That's a waste of time," he replied, each word measured. "We stick to the plan."
Her temper flared—finally, fully. The control she'd been clinging to since walking back into this office shattered.
"Your plan is too cautious," she snapped, the words rushing out before she could stop them. "If you weren't so obsessed with control, you'd see that."
The air changed. Like thunder gathering behind silence.
Ben closed the file in front of him. His movement carved from tension. The soft thud of paper against paper seemed to echo in the sudden stillness of the room.
Then he stepped forward.
Too close. His presence crowded her, commanded the space, dared her to retreat. Kath felt the heat from him, smelled the faint traces of his cologne. The conference room suddenly felt impossibly small.
"You don't get to challenge me in my own office, Winters,"
he said, his voice low, edged with warning.
She didn't budge. Didn't flinch. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her back down. She met him toe-to-toe, pulse loud in her ears, her chin tilted up to hold his gaze.
"Then give me something worth agreeing to," she replied, her words quiet but lethal.
A pause. A breath. The heat between them spiked, electric and unbearable.
Katherine watched his gaze flicker—down to her mouth, then back up to her eyes. The shift was subtle, almost imperceptible, but she caught it. Her body registered it before her mind could catch up, a treacherous warmth spreading through her chest.
And then came the smirk.
Slow. Knowing. Dangerous.
"Careful," he murmured, the single word carrying more weight than it had any right to.
Katherine's pulse jumped. She hated that it did. Hated how her body remembered him even when her mind was screaming to forget. Hated how easily he could unravel her with just a look, a word, a breath.
Neither of them moved. Neither of them gave in. They stood locked in place—blades drawn, lips inches apart.
The conference room seemed to shrink around them, the air charged with something that wasn't just anger. Something that felt dangerously close to need.
Ben was the one to break the tension. He exhaled through his nose, slow and steady, like he was letting her off the hook—for now. Then stepped back, the space between them expanding, but somehow feeling no less intimate.
Katherine tracked his retreat, pulse hammering behind her ribs. This wasn’t over. Not even close. Every nerve buzzed with a visceral certainty: whatever existed between them hadn’tburned out—it was still smoldering beneath the surface, waiting to reignite.
As Ben passed behind her chair, he leaned in—barely.
Just close enough that the heat of him kissed her skin.
“Admit it,” he murmured, voice like smoke curling against her ear. “You missed this.”
Her breath stuttered. Just for a moment. A betrayal she couldn’t hide fast enough. Damn him.
She didn’t answer. Refused to give him the satisfaction.
Instead, fingers gripped the next file tighter than necessary. Pages turned with surgical precision. As if her hands weren’t trembling. As if her throat weren’t dry. As if her skin wasn’t still burning from the ghost of his voice.
