Page 40 of The Rules
A deadline. Which meant this had just become real.
Kath kept her posture relaxed, her face a carefully composed mask of indifference. She nodded stiffly. "Fine."
Her hand touched the doorknob. Stopped. Exhaled.
"...I'll think about it," she muttered. A lie she hoped would become true by morning. Because if it didn’t— everything she’d built would start to crack.
She walks out into the hallway, heels striking softly against the worn wood. The air is thick—too still, too heavy. Her breath feels wrong in her chest, like it’s caught between choices she hasn't made yet.
At the end of the hall, she stops. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t move.
One hand grazes the wall, fingertips brushing the paint, like grounding herself with something real might help sort the rest.
But it doesn’t.
The quiet stretches long.
She closes her eyes. Just for a second. Just to hear what silence sounds like when everything inside her is screaming.
And then she starts walking again. Slowly.
One step after the other—like the floor might vanish if she moves too fast.
Chapter 12
Katherine
The moment Kath crosses the threshold, the air shifts—thick with danger, anticipation, something raw. Her skin prickles,
her pulse flares. This isn’t just another session. This is something else.
Benjamin sits before her like a predator at rest. His legs are spread wide, commanding the space, sleeves rolled to expose forearms corded with tension. His tie hangs loose, a calculated display of casual power that doesn't match the rigid set of his shoulders or the sharp focus in his eyes.
She forces herself to breathe evenly, to keep Blondie's mask firmly in place. Each step she takes is deliberate, her hips swaying just enough to draw his gaze. She owns this space.
She makes the rules here.
The silence stretches between them, heavy with unspoken challenge. Kath doesn't break it. Won't give him that opening.
His voice, when it comes, cuts through the air like steel.
"You don't do repeats."
Kath tilts her head, letting Blondie's smirk play across her lips. Her heart pounds against her ribs, but she keeps her voice steady, letting the pause linger just long enough to assert control.
"That's right."
Her breath catches as he shifts, bracing his elbows on his knees with predatory focus. That stance—elbows braced, gaze locked—was a weapon. She'd seen him reduce witnesses to rubble from that very position. Though her insides clench with visceral recognition, she holds herself statue-still, letting Blondie's calculated detachment settle over her features.
"That's an odd business strategy." His voice carries that same smooth arrogance she's heard countless times in the office, but here it feels more dangerous, more intimate.
She lifts a brow, channeling Blondie's practiced indifference. But beneath the surface, alarm bells are ringing. This isn't the same man from their last encounter. This is Benjamin Sinclair in predator mode.
His lips twitch—not with warmth, but with something that makes her skin prickle. "How do you plan to make money if you keep turning away clients?"
The question hits too close to home. Her fingers twitch before she can stop them. Her weight shifts, instinct screaming retreat. She catches herself, but not fast enough—she sees the flash of satisfaction in his eyes, the slight narrowing of his gaze that tells her he caught every micro-expression.
Kath forces herself to exhale slowly. "I do well enough."
