Page 170 of The Rules

And Ben had watched it happen once already.

Kath remained silent beside him, her expression carefully neutral. Ben felt her gaze shift between them—first to Julian, then settling on him. She didn't push. Didn't interfere. She just waited, her silence more potent than any argument she could have made.

That silence cut deeper than Julian's words ever could.

Because Ben understood what it really meant. This wasn't just about what Julian was willing to do to win. It was aboutwhether Ben was willing to doenough. Whether he could live with himself if they lost because he'd refused to cross the line.

He met Kath's gaze, finding something complex beneath her careful composure. Determination burned there, alongside guilt. Fear. And beneath it all—control. She was letting him decide, but her stake in this was immeasurably higher than his.

"For now..." Ben said firmly, measuring each word, "we do thismyway."

Julian leaned back further in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, like a man who'd already seen the final act of a predictable play.

"Whatever you say, big brother," Julian replied, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Let's see how longthatlasts."

The light outside was fading—shadows stretching across glass and steel, painting the city in deepening shades of blue and gray. Ben watched the transformation from his office, the view a momentary distraction from the tension that had settled in his shoulders.

Ben watched her.

Across the room, Kath was laughing—really laughing—at something Julian said. It was too easy. Too effortless. The sound of it carried across the space, genuine and unguarded in a way he rarely heard from her anymore. Not with him, at least.

And Julian's smirk?

Practically criminal.

Ben’s fingers curled around the edge of the folder in front of him, the paper creasing beneath the pressure. His molars ground together. He shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t give a damn about whatever this rhythm was—Julian’s smirking charm, the easy cadence of her laugh in reply.

It was nothing. Just cooperation. Strategic alignment.

Then her eyes found his across the room.

Laughter gone. But the warmth? Still there. And beneath it—something else. Something razor-sharp. A dare.

Come on, Sinclair. What now?

Ben looked away first.

Not because he wanted to. Because he had to.

His spine went stiff as the irritation twisted low and hot in his chest. This wasn’t the time for distractions. Not when they were still a mile away from anything that could bury Crawford.

But that didn’t stop the heat from lingering.

Later, the meeting devolved into strategy talk.

Tension was already high—papers shuffling, voices sharp. Julian had brought more information, but it only highlighted how much was still missing. The frustration in the room was palpable, thickening the air with each passing minute.

But then—

Kath leaned in. Too close. Her words were about witness lists—dry, forgettable. Something about a former Sterling employee who might be willing to talk.

But her fingers?

They brushed his wrist.

Once.

Light. Accidental—maybe.