Page 51 of The Rules
Kath knew she wouldn’t like where this was going. But she still took her time—finishing the slow sweep of mascara, pretending Aria wasn’t there. Letting silence speak for her.
As if she had a choice in entertaining whatever game she was about to play.
“Not interested,” she said, flat and final.
But Aria never took hints well.
"Oh, come on, don't be like that." purred. "You know how good I am at returning favors."
The implication in her voice was clear. Katherine capped her mascara with slow precision, refusing to meet Aria’s gaze in the mirror, even as her chin locked tight with restraint.
"I don't owe you anything." she stated flatly.
A beat of silence stretched between them, the air growing thick with tension. Kath could practically feel Aria's eyes boring into the back of her head, assessing, calculating her next move.
"Maybe not," conceded finally. "But you might want to hear me out anyway. Just for one night and he is a good money."
"Why me?"
The question left Kath's lips like a blade—sharp, deliberate.
Something in Aria’s expression flickered. Like she’d been waiting for it.
“He’s had everyone but you,” she purred, tone dipped in mockery, the words designed to cut.
Kath didn’t buy it for a second.
This wasn’t about client preference. This was a setup—and they both knew it. But if she refused now, Aria would smell blood in the water.
Aria leaned in, eyes gleaming.
Kath exhaled slowly, then curved her lips into a smirk.
"Fine,"she said, casual, controlled—even as something sharp coiled in her gut.
Aria’s smile wasn’t victory.
It was satisfaction.
And that was worse.
Kath knew she’d just stepped right where Aria wanted her.
And the trap snapped shut faster than she expected.
The heavy door sealed with a decisive click, trapping Katherine in a room where shadows loomed and silence pressed hard against her eardrums. The dim light skimmed the walls, revealing just enough to remind her there was no way out.
The space was designed for intimacy—but now it suffocated. The air clung to her skin, thick with tension left unsaid.
The client is already seated, waiting with a stillness that feels dangerous.
And the moment she sees him, her body freezes, every muscle drawing tight, bracing for impact.
Run.
It’s not the money. Plenty of men walk through these doors flush with wealth, their pockets heavy with the power it brings.
But this? This is something else entirely.
