Page 60 of The Rules
"Looks like you’re out of time."
He lifts his head, eyes narrowing—not in anger, but with that quiet, assessing look that always comes before a calculated response.
“Is that what you think?” His voice is low. Even. But it hums with promise.
She smirks—but he catches the flutter in her pulse. The way her breath stutters for half a second. She knows. This isn’t over. Not even close.
He leans in, eyes never leaving hers as he reaches for her lingerie—fingers steady as he adjusts the lace back into place. Then her strap, sliding it gently over her shoulder. His touch is careful, intimate. Possessive.
He finishes what he starts. Always.
Not tonight. But soon.
Without a word, he undoes the knot binding her wrists, brushing his knuckles against her skin in a touch more deliberate than necessary.
Then he rises, smooth and composed, and holds out his hand to her.
"Let’s go," he says simply.
Chapter 16
Benjamin
Ben's attention was scattered as he crossed the firm's lobby—emails, deadlines, meetings, all vying for his focus. His gaze snagged on Katherine—arrogant, composed, infuriating.
Something shifted—small, barely there. It was nothing at first. Just a flicker of movement as she adjusted her bag, causing her blouse sleeve to pull slightly, just enough for him to almost see it. A shadow beneath the fabric. A mark. Maybe. Something faint beneath the semi-sheer material of her blouse—right near her elbow.
It was probably nothing. Probably.
But then, Blondie crashed into his thoughts uninvited.
He remembered the soft skin beneath his fingertips. Remembered the bruise. And for a second—a half-second—his brain offered the impossible: Could it be…?
The moment passed as quickly as it came. The bruise was too obscured. The memory too surreal. The connection too ridiculous. He blinked it away.
Katherine stepped into the elevator, unaware of his scrutiny. Ben watched her go, not suspicious, not certain. Just… unsettled.
He breathed out, shutting down the idea as it dissolved as quickly as it had come. Implausible. Impossible. He told himself it was nothing. A coincidence. A glitch in his overworked mind. No. Don't be ridiculous.
But the thought didn't vanish. Not really. It lingered. Waiting.
Even then, Ben stared at the stack of documents and case files spread across his desk, but his focus was elsewhere. Deadlines loomed, his inbox overflowed, and he had zero time for distractions—yet one refused to leave his thoughts.
The flicker of skin beneath Katherine's sleeve replayed in his mind, that almost-bruise echoing a memory he couldn't shake. He told himself it didn't matter, that he was being paranoid, overworked, his brain connecting dots that didn't exist.
He'd known Katherine for months. She was a nightmare in heels, not some masked vixen in silk and lace.
Blondie is a fantasy. Kath is real—loud, difficult.Definitely not her.
But his memory wouldn't play fair. He remembered the exact spot on Blondie's elbow, the way her breath hitched when he touched it, the way her voice cracked when she said his name. The idea kept circling back, soft but persistent, a hum beneath the noise, a whisper threading itself into every idle second of silence.
If he's wrong, he ruins everything. If he's right—he's already in too deep.
He stared at his screen, words blurring, focus slipping.
He didn't realize how long he'd been just... sitting there, dragging a hand over his face, trying and failing to shake off the thoughts. His logical brain insisted it was nothing. But the rest of him whispered,If I ask and I’m wrong… if I don’t ask and I’m right…
He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the window.
