Page 101 of Oath

Just a little.

Nothing dramatic. Just enough to let him know:I see you.

I remember.

I’m not going anywhere.

He dropped his gaze first.

Good.

Let him wonder what came next.

The other attorney was speaking now, something about rescheduling a hearing due to a missing affidavit. The judge looked annoyed but not surprised. My stomach turned a little. That was the thing with guys like Sinclair—they always played just close enough to the edge of legal to be dangerous, but far enough from it to avoid jail time.

This time, he’d miscalculated.

The bailiff moved to the front, murmured something to the judge. Sinclair turned toward the bench, and I saw his profile tighten. Jaw clenched. One hand flexed at his side.

He felt trapped.

He should.

I leaned back in the pew—just a breath. Crossed my legs in the other direction. Shifted my briefcase slightly, letting the faint glint of my bar ID badge—the guys thought of everything—peek out. Not enough to draw attention from the court.

Just enough forhim.

His eyes cut toward it like a whip crack.

There it was again—fear.

Sharp and wild behind those calculated eyes.

He hadn’t planned for me.

He never planned for me.

Now he was off-script. I’d seen that kind of sweat bead on a man’s upper lip before. Trapped.

I didn’t smile.

But inside, I wasgrinning. It was probably more of a grimace, a baring of teeth. Didn’t matter. Heknew.

He fuckingknew.

I wanted what he knew. I wanted to know what he’ddone.

The judge dismissed them both with a few closing remarks. Sinclair stepped away from the table, gathering his folder, fumbling with the clasp. His polished veneer was slipping, fast. The other attorney moved past him without a second glance—probably used to his particular brand of rattled arrogance.

Sinclair turned toward the aisle.

And I stood.

Smooth, fluid, unapologetic. He stopped short. Just a half-step.

Like he wasn’t sure whether to go around me… or through me.

He wouldn’t do either.