Page 106 of The Rules

A slow, boiling fury that licked beneath his skin, hungry and relentless.

Ben took a step forward, each movement calculated and cold. "Tell me, Winters," he said, voice low and honed to cut, "was it easy? Striding in here like nothing happened? Like you didn’t just spend last night in my lap—riding my cock like you owned it?"

She flinched. Just a twitch. Barely there. But he saw it.

And fuck, it fed something dark and ugly in him.

"You wore that mask," he continued, stalking closer, "you got on top of me. Wrapped your legs around me and moaned my name like it meant something—likeImeant something.

And then what? You put your pretty little armor back on and came to work like we hadn’t just blurred every fucking line between us?"

Her breath hitched. Her eyes locked on his, wide with something unspoken—fear, shame, maybe just the recognition thathe was no longer playing fair.

He leaned in, not touching her, but close enough for her to feel the heat rolling off him. "How long were you going to keep it going?" he asked, quieter now. More dangerous. "How many more nights were you planning to fuck me blind before you thought I might recognize the goddamn woman in my arms?"

Benjamin watched Kath stiffen, her eyes widening—just a flicker—but it was enough. He saw it. Felt it. The confirmation he needed.

"Did you think I wouldn't fucking find out?" The words tore from his throat, bitter and sharp.

Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Her hands twitched at her sides, fingers curling then uncurling, like she wanted to raise them. Defend. Deflect. Deny.

Go on. Lie to me again. See what happens.

Benjamin's jaw clenchedso tight he could feel the pressure in his temples. He'd spent years building walls, constructing barriers, ensuring no one could ever catch him off guard.

And here she was—this woman who'd slipped past every defense, who'd played him like a fucking instrument.

He'd let her in. Let her see parts of him no one else had.

And all along, she'd been laughing at him. Watching him unravel while keeping her own secrets locked away.

The betrayal cut deeper than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

Benjamin reached out, his movement deliberate and precise. His hand found her waist, fingers pressing against the silk of her blouse. He felt her body tense beneath his touch, but she didn't pull away. Didn't fight him.

He lifted the fabric, just enough. Just where he knew they would be.

And there they were. The bruises. Faint purple marks where his fingers had gripped her the night before, when she'd been grinding against him, gasping his name, falling apart in his arms.

His bruises. His proof.

"Right. Almost forgot," he murmured, the words barely audible, gutted and furious all at once.

Her body froze completely. He felt it—the tension radiating through her, the panic she was trying desperately to bury.

Her breath caught, a small, sharp inhale that told him everything.

Benjamin watched her lips part, a movement so familiar it made his blood boil. How many times had he seen that exact expression on Blondie's face? That same careful hesitation, that same calculated vulnerability.

"Ben—" His name fell from her lips, soft and trembling,

a whispered plea that struck him like a physical blow.

A laugh tore from his throat before he could stop it—sharp, bitter, completely devoid of humor. The sound echoed in the empty office, bouncing off glass walls and polished surfaces.

It didn't sound like him. It sounded like someone else entirely—someone cold and dangerous.

"No. Don't you fucking dare say my name like that."