Page 47 of The Rules
The fact that she’d done it at all.
She’d dropped to her knees like it was inevitable. Like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t made her burn in all the worst ways.
Her stomach turned—not with regret, but with something harder to name. Something tight and restless and completely unwelcome.
Then the doorbell rang.
She blinked. Froze.
She wasn’t expecting anyone. Blanket slipping off her shoulders, she crossed the room in silence, muscles taut.
Her heart pounded as she stared through the peephole at the imposing figure of Samuel Crawford on her doorstep. A cold sweat broke out across her skin as panic gripped her. How did he know where she lived? This couldn't be a coincidence.
She considered staying silent, letting the moment pass.
But Crawford wasn’t the kind of man you ignored—he was the kind who waited. Who outlasted. The measured knocks came again, slow and deliberate, like someone expecting to be granted entry.
Drawing a shaky breath, she willed her racing pulse to settle. She couldn't show fear, not to a man like him. With a steadyingexhale, she reached for the lock and turned the handle, opening the door.
Crawford stood before her, the picture of polite patience.
His crisp suit and neatly knotted tie spoke of careful planning - this was no impromptu visit. His smile was empty, a warning wrapped in silk as his gaze met hers.
"Good evening, Miss Winters."
Her voice was cool, unreadable. "Mr. Crawford."
The man smiled, slow and leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world. "Miss Winters." His voice was pleasant, smooth as glass. And then— "I thought I'd drop something off."
He lifted a thin manila folder, and Kath's stomach twisted. Tension coiled sharp and sudden. The case file she’d requested. The one that should’ve come through email. The one he definitely shouldn’t be hand-delivering.
Crawford watched her, closely, as if he were waiting, as if he had already seen the move she was about to make. His head tilted, a fraction. "You ask interesting questions, Miss Winters."
She didn't blink. "I'm a lawyer. That's my job."
His smile deepened. "Of course."
Kath swallowed, keeping her voice even, measured, and suspicious, yet controlled. "Didn't realize the DA's office was in the business of home delivery."
Crawford chuckled softly, the sound indulgent, as if she amused him. "I happened to be in the area."
Liar.He wasn't in the area. He came here, on purpose.They both knew it.
She didn't call him on it. She didn't need to. Crawford tilted his head, his smile remaining polite, his voice smooth. But his next words weren't a request. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Her grip on the file tightened. The correct answer was no.
The smart answer was no. But the problem? He already knew she was afraid. And that meant she had already lost the upper hand.
Kath hesitated a second too long. And that was enough. Crawford didn't press. He didn't shift or move a muscle.
He waited. Not like a man seeking permission—but like one who already owned the space, simply giving her the illusion of choice.
Her breath was slow, steady. And then, she stepped aside.
Not an invitation, not an agreement, just an acceptance of the inevitable.
The man stepped inside, unrushed and comfortable, as if he had always been meant to be there. And just like that, she had lost the first battle.
