Page 22 of The Rules

That was all Katherine permitted herself to feel.

Her legs moved on autopilot, each step a deliberate performance as her mind raced behind the safety of her mask. The familiar scent of leather and whiskey filled her lungs, but tonight it felt like drowning.

His presence dominated the room differently here than at the office. His jacket was draped over the armrest, his collar open just enough to reveal the hollow of his throat. The sight sent a jolt through her system—too intimate, too real.

Her heart thundered against her ribs as she forced herself to breathe. To move. To survive.

He sat there, relaxed in a way she'd never witnessed before, his head tilting slightly as he watched her. The gesture was so familiar it made her chest ache. But here, in this dim red light, without his usual sharp suit and cutting remarks, he looked almost... human.

The realization hit her like a physical blow.

He didn’t know.

Benjamin Sinclair, the man who tore apart her legal arguments without blinking, who demanded nothing less than perfection, had no idea who was standing before him now.

"Expecting someone else?" His voice cut through her panic, low and amused—so different from his courtroom tone that it made her dizzy.

Her muscles screamed with tension, but years of performance kicked in. Her body responded before her mind could catch up, shifting her weight to one hip, letting her head tilt in a practiced gesture of intrigue.

A laugh spilled from her lips—smooth, teasing, perfect. The sound felt foreign in her throat as her world crumbled silently behind her mask.

"Only expecting a mask," she purred.

The air clung to her skin, thick with static—charged, dangerous. Katherine's heart hammered against her ribs, but her body moved with practiced grace—every step calculated, every gesture a shield between her reality and his gaze.

She stopped just beyond his reach, close enough to tease but far enough to maintain control. The distance was her salvation and her torture. Katherine relished the raw, electric tension that filled the space between them, so different from the carefully measured interactions they shared at the office. Here, the air crackled with untamed desire, His presence an immediate, visceral pull that threatened to unravel her practiced composure.

A smile curved Katherine’s lips, the expression as rehearsed as her legal arguments. The panic clawing at her chest remained safely hidden behind the practised performance.

"Do you remember the rules, Mr. S.?" The words flowed smooth as silk, betraying none of the tension coiled beneath her skin. The familiar nickname felt strange on her tongue now, knowing who it belonged to.

Sinclair leaned back, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp—as always. He watched her with that same penetrating focus he used in the courtroom, like he could see straight through her defenses.

"Remind me." His voice carried that hint of challenge she knew too well, but here it held a different edge—darker, hungrier.

Her stomach tightened. This wasn't her stern mentor demanding perfection in legal briefs. This was Benjamin Sinclair asking her to draw lines he might cross.

Katherine drew in a slow breath, her hands sliding down her sides in a gesture that looked seductive but felt more like anchoring herself to reality. The silk of her costume whispered against her palms, reminding her this was real—terrifyingly, impossibly real.

"No touching unless I say so." The words came automatically. She couldn't let him hear how her voice wanted to shake.

"My hair, my mask is off-limits." Another rule, another barrier between them. Her fingers twitched, remembering how many times she'd adjusted the wig, making sure it was secure.

"No requests—this is a dance, not an escort service."

She rattled off the last rule quickly, like ripping off a bandage, like building a wall between who she was and who he thought she was.

Benjamin's mouth curved into that familiar smirk she'd seen countless times across conference tables in heated legal debates. But here, in this dim room, it held something else—something that made her pulse skip and her skin heat. His eyes gleamed with dark amusement, as if he could taste her unease and found it delicious.

"Understood." The word slid from his mouth with lethal elegance, carrying that same tone he used when dismantling opposing counsel. Only now it was directed at her, at Blondie,

at this version of herself he wasn't supposed to know.

Katherine swallowed hard. His gaze felt like a touch.

She forces herself to sway closer, rolling her hips, keeping the rhythm even as panic claws up her spine. Her fingers tremble slightly as they hook into the straps of her outfit, but she can't stop. If she freezes now, he'll know something's wrong.

The silk slides down one shoulder, then the other. Cool air kisses her heated skin as the fabric falls lower, revealing her collarbone. Her stomach clenches as his gaze follows the movement, sharp and focused in a way that makes her want to run.