Page 62 of The Rules
His mind betrayed him—again. Blondie under his hands.
Her breathless moans. That name on her lips. Ben.
Could it be her?
His body recoiled at the possibility. His brain, treacherous thing, whispered maybe. Every fiber of his being struggled against the connection forming in his mind. Blondie belonged to a realm of silk sheets and midnight confessions—a fantasy carved from desire. Katherine existed in fluorescent lights and boardroom tension—all sharp edges, infuriating viewpoints, and the inescapable gravity of sharing the same professional space.
And yet—he knew himself too well. The moment he started to suspect, he had to know. He doesn't let go. He doesn't look away. Truth is his drug—and this mystery? It's the itch he can't stop scratching.
Resolve sharpened like a blade. Until he proves otherwise,
he won't stop.
Chapter 17
Katherine
Kath exits the building, shedding the day like skin as the night air greets her with a cool hush. She exhales slowly—and steps into the rhythm of the city. Horns in the distance, muffled voices, the soft pulse of footsteps echoing against flickering lights.
She blends into it all with practiced ease. Coat pulled tight around her, bag secure at her side, heels ticking steady against the pavement. Everything feels normal.Almost.
It starts as nothing. No sharp sound. No jarring motion.
Just a whisper. A shift. The kind of feeling that crawls up your spine and makes your breath go quiet.
She tries to shake it off, but it clings. It’s late, and she’s utterly exhausted.
The rhythm of her steps steadies her. One foot in front of the other. Head down, focused on the cracks in the sidewalk. Anything to avoid looking over her shoulder.
Then it comes again—a prickle at the nape of her neck.
The unmistakable sense that someone's gaze is lingering a little too long.
One block. Then another. The air was cold in her lungs, the pavement steady beneath her feet.
Then—another step. Not hers. Quiet, deliberate. Slightly behind. Slightly off.
She slowed her pace instinctively. And whoever was behind her did the same.Coincidence?
Kath decided to test it. She sped up, her strides lengthening. The sound of footsteps behind her followed suit, the rhythm shifting to match hers.
No.This isn’t chance.
Her stomachdropped as the realization sank in. Every muscle in her body coiled with tension. The world around her hadn't changed—butshehad. Her instincts went sharp, senses heightened, ready for whatever threat might be lurking in the shadows.
She reached the crosswalk and stopped, her mind racing. Forced herself to breathe, to stay calm and not give away her growing unease.
Glancing back casually, her heart stumbled when she spotted the man—mid-40s, wearing a dark jacket. He wasn't running or lurking, but his presence felt deliberate, too perfectly average to be a coincidence. On an empty street, he stood out.
The light changed, and Kath crossed, cutting down a quieter side street. The footsteps followed without hesitation. He didn't approach, but shifted to keep her in his periphery.
Fucking hell. There’s no doubt now—she’s being followed.
Her body reacted before thought could intervene—heart hammering against her ribs, breath hitching in shallow bursts as the cold night air burned against her cheeks. Panic slicked her palms, a clammy heat blooming beneath the chill, spreading faster than she could contain it.
This was happening. Someone’s tracking her.
Instinct took over as she scanned her surroundings, calculating distances and assessing potential safety zones.
