Page 86 of The Rules
She held a folder in one hand, no tremble, no hesitation—but her eyes lingered on him a beat too long. Long enough to notice. Long enough to question.
Ben kept his eyes on his screen. One more line. One more second of control.
"I need your advice on something," she said, voice smooth but… careful.
He leaned back slowly, finally meeting her gaze. "That’s new," he said, arching a brow. "You don’t usually ask."
Her lips twitched—something that might’ve been amusement. Or annoyance. "I don’t usually need to."
He hummed. Noncommittal. Sharp. "And yet—here you are."
She took a step closer, setting the file down with absolute precision. The gesture was quiet. But deliberate.
“It’s not work-related,” she said. “But I trust your judgment.”
That word hit like a sucker punch.
Trust.
Ben sat back further in his chair, gaze narrowing just slightly. "Funny choice of word."
Her expression didn’t shift.
"You could’ve taken it to Ranford," he added, cool and clinical. Like he wasn’t trying to provoke.
"I didn’t want Ranford," she said flatly.
A beat passed. Dense. Loaded.
He studied her, silent.
He should’ve asked what it was. Should’ve reached for the folder. Should’ve done something other than sit there, trying to pretend her presence didn’t light every fuse inside him.
But if he opened that file, opened that door—it wouldn’t stop there.
So he didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Just nodded, slow and unreadable. "Leave it with me,"
he said, voice low. “I’ll look when I can.”
Katherine nodded, but her eyes lingered again—just long enough to leave a scratch behind.
No thank you. No smile. Just a quiet exhale as she turned and left, her heels echoing like punctuation.
The door clicked shut.
Benjamin stared at the folder like it might bite.
And still—he didn’t touch it.
Not yet.
???
The office was busy. Late afternoon light stretched long across the floor, casting sharp angles that matched the mood.
