Page 9 of The Rules
“Your things,” she says. “You’re on Sinclair’s team now.”
She lets it land, then adds, a touch softer:
“Don’t stress if he’s hard on you at first. He doesn’t make it easy. Just don’t take it personal, and you’ll be fine.”
The elevator is quiet. Still. The words settle—not like fire, but like weight.
Kath blinks once, then nods. No protest. Just understanding.
She should have seen it. Of course he knew exactly what he was doing. That whole interaction—tight, deliberate, surgical.
A test. Not cruelty, just calculus.
He doesn’t trust her. Not yet.
And that’s fine. She’s not here for hand-holding.
She presses her lips together as the elevator doors close.
She’ll meet the expectation. And if he’s watching, that’s good.
He should be.
Chapter 4
Katherine
The office hums with controlled chaos—ringing phones, fingers flying over keyboards, the sharp clink of coffee cups against glass. A symphony of ambition and exhaustion.
Months have passed since Katherine first set foot in Sinclair & Associates, no longer the wide-eyed recruit drowning in legal briefs. She’s survived. Thrived, even. And Benjamin Sinclair? He hasn’t let up. If anything, the pressure’s only sharpened.
Perched casually against the edge of the desk, Patty sips her third latte of the day, studying her with open curiosity. “So, Winters—how’s life under Sinclair?"
Without looking up, Katherine flips through a stack of case files. “Like running a marathon on broken glass. He keeps raising the bar, and I keep proving him wrong."
Patty hums, swirling the last of her coffee. “Not many last this long in his inner circle. Rumor is—he actually respects you."
A scoff escapes, dry and automatic. “Mr. Sinclair doesn’t respect people. He tolerates them if they’re useful."
Patty’s grin is all teeth. “Well, whatever it is, the office has noticed. He doesn’t waste time on those who don’t matter."
Before Katherine can retort, hushed voices float down the hallway. A group of associates pass by, conversation laced with barely contained amusement.
“Did you hear? Some junior from Spencer & Co. tried hitting on Sinclair at the networking event. He completely ignored her."
Patty snorts into her cup. “Poor girl. Sinclair doesn’t do flings. Hell, he doesn’t do anything. The man’s practically a machine."
Katherine doesn’t react, not outwardly. But the words linger.
A machine, huh?
She’s not so sure.
Machines don’t pause mid-sentence to reassess. They don’t watch people with that kind of silence—the kind that weighs, not scans. Machines execute. He calculates.
She exhales slowly, refocusing on the briefs scattered across her desk. But the rhythm of her thoughts stumbles, skipping a beat where it shouldn’t.
Something about him doesn’t fit the mold.
