Page 180 of The Rules
No one called himBenhere. Not in this building. Not in his domain. He wasMr. Sinclair—a name wrapped in formality and fear. A title. A distance.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak.
Just turned to face her. Slowly. Cleanly.
Not a reaction.
A choice.
Their eyes locked across the conference table.
Kath didn't smile. Didn't flinch. But her stomach twisted, tightening into a knot of anticipation that was impossible to ignore.
Because the way he was looking at her?
It wasn't anger. It was something hotter. Heavier.
A promise. A warning. A guarantee.
His gaze slid down—just once. A flicker. Kath's pulse stuttered as his eyes traced over her blouse, lingering for a fraction of a second before returning to her face. She knew what he was thinking. Knew he was remembering his punishment, the lingerie she was wearing beneath her suit. The way the lace pressed against her skin with every shift of her body.
Then he looked back up, and the corner of his mouth ticked—barely.
No reprimand. No correction. Just that look.
She could feel it on her skin. Like a physical touch, trailing heat in its wake. Like he'd reached across the table and dragged his fingers down her throat, over her collarbone, lower.
Across the room, someone coughed. Another rustled papers like they were trying not to die of secondhand tension.
Joshua shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes darting between them with something too knowing in his expression.
But Ben?
"Any additional notes before we wrap?" he asked smoothly, addressing the room without breaking his gaze from hers.
He didn't address her. He didn't need to.
The meeting moved on. People spoke. Files were passed. Decisions were made.
But the shift?
It lingered.
Katherine felt it in the way his eyes stripped her when the room's attention faltered elsewhere. In the dangerous heat climbing her throat like possessive fingers. In the insistent throb low in her—a primal pulse that blurred the line between terror and craving.
Benjamin
The door clicks shut behind him with nowarning.
No sound from her. But he knows she's in here. He can feel her.
Benjamin stands motionless for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light of the archive room. The scent of paper and dust hangs in the air, but beneath it—vanilla. Her scent.
His jaw tightens involuntarily.
Kath stands at the archive cabinet, flipping through files with single-minded focus, unaware of the presence behind her.
He says nothing.
