Chapter 43
Katherine
Katherine lay perfectly still, trying to ignore the heat radiating from Ben's body beside her.
She was acutely aware of every inch of space between them—the careful distance they'd established when they'd finally settled into bed.
No longer touching. No longer wrapped in that strange, protective embrace that had made her pulse race.
The silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant hum of traffic and the soft rhythm of their breathing. Katherine stared at the ceiling, watching the play of silver light that cut through the half-closed blinds, casting strange patterns across the darkness.
She couldn't sleep. Her mind kept replaying the events of the day—the courtroom, Crawford's smug expression, the alarm that had jolted them both awake.
The knife Ben had given her, now tucked beneath her pillow.
The weight of it all pressed down on her chest, making each breath feel like a deliberate act.
"What did you want to be?" Ben's voice cut through the stillness, low and unexpected. "Before all this. Before law."
Katherine blinked, thrown by the question. It seemed to come from nowhere, this sudden interest in who she had been.
Who she might have become in another life.
"You think I wasn't meant for this?" she asked softly, a breath of laughter escaping her lips despite herself.
Ben shifted beside her, the mattress dipping slightly with his movement. She could feel his gaze on her profile, studying her in the half-light.
"No one wants to be a lawyer," he said, his tone dry but tinged with genuine amusement. "We just... end up here."
Katherine smiled—surprised by how warm that made her feel. This glimpse of something almost human beneath his carefully controlled exterior. This moment of shared understanding that felt dangerously close to connection.
She hesitated, letting the question sink in. It had been so long since she'd allowed herself to think about the path she might have taken if life hadn't intervened. If her father's case hadn't consumed everything.
"I wanted to be a teacher," she admitted quietly, her voice barely more than a breath in the dark.
A beat of silence.
Then Ben hummed—low, almost curious. "Really?"
She felt a smile tug at her lips, suddenly amused by her own forgotten ambitions. "Not really," she said, a hint of
self-deprecation creeping into her tone. "That was just the step before becoming a principal. That's what I actually wanted."
Ben let out a soft, genuine laugh.
The sound caught her off guard—warm and unguarded.
A real laugh, not the cold, calculated one she'd grown accustomed to hearing in the office. Not the cruel one he'd used when dismantling her defenses.
"Of course you did," he murmured, voice tinged with something that sounded almost like fondness. "Control freak."
She rolled her eyes, grinning despite herself. She reached out, shoving his arm lightly. "Shut up."
He grinned back, his voice lighter than she'd heard in days. "Admit it. You just wanted to be in charge of everyone's future. Dictate their fates. Make the rules."
She hummed thoughtfully, stretching her legs under the covers. Found herself relaxing into the moment despite everything, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.
"Hm. When you put it like that..." she considered, "yeah. Maybe. Sounds kind of fun."
Ben shook his head, chuckling softly. But he didn't push further.
The quiet between them wasn't awkward anymore. It was... easy.
Katherine felt the quiet between them shift, deepening into something more significant. The kind of silence that felt like a breath held too long. She could sense Ben watching her in the darkness, his gaze a tangible weight against her skin.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, measured—and somehow more dangerous for its gentleness.
"Why did you dance at Crimson Bloom?"
Katherine stilled. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. She’d seen it coming— just not like that. It wasn't an accusation. Not a trap. Not another move in their endless game of strategy and control.
It was a door. One she could choose to open or keep firmly shut.
She exhaled slowly, weighing her options. The truth was simple enough, but sharing it meant giving him something real. Something that mattered.
“Law school wasn’t cheap,” she said at last, her voice calm. Controlled. “But I always knew I’d go.”
She didn’t have to explain why. He already knew the origin of the story. The conviction born the moment their father was taken away. When no one else would take his case. When no one else would even try.
“We’d saved for something small. Modest. One of those ‘reasonable’ futures people plan for when they’re still pretending life makes sense.”
She let out a soft exhale. Not quite a laugh.
“But then things changed. I waited two years—worked, saved, scraped together enough just to start. Lisa gave what she had without even blinking. Said she didn’t need a fancy school. Said I’d make it mean something.”
Her throat tightened around her sister’s name, but she didn’t pause this time.
“We made it work—for the beginning, anyway. But it wasn’t going to last. Rent, books, food, tuition... and I still owed Lisa.
I promised I’d put her through, too.”
Ben said nothing, but she felt it—the shift in his posture.
The attention. The weight of him beside her, utterly still.
“I needed something fast. Something real. Something that paid enough to keep going. The club paid well.”
No shame. Just truth.
She watched Ben's expression shift in the darkness. Something about the way he looked at her now was different—less like he was analyzing her and more like he was seeing her. Actually seeing her.
"She must be a hell of a sister," he said, his voice lower than before. Sincere in a way that made her chest tighten.
Katherine smiled. A real smile, not the practiced one she used in court or the seductive curve she'd perfected at the Crimson. This was softer. Genuine. She didn't need to explain further—Ben already understood.
"She is," replied simply.
The silence that followed felt heavier, charged with something neither of them was ready to name. Katherine could feel it pressing against her skin, making her too aware of how close they were, of the warmth radiating from his body.
Then—
"And so are you," Ben said quietly, still watching her face.
Katherine's breath caught in her throat. Just for a second, but long enough that she knew he'd noticed.
She tried to recover with a smirk, falling back on the defense mechanism that had served her so well.
"Careful, Benjamin," she said, her tone deliberately light. "Almost sounded like a compliment."
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"Don't get used to it," he replied, but there was no edge to his words.
A pause stretched between them. Then, in a quieter voice, he added, "You've never called me that before."
Katherine blinked, realizing he was right. She'd called him Ben, Mr. Sinclair, Sinclair—but never Benjamin. The full name had slipped out without thought.
"Guess I'm feeling generous tonight," she said softly,
a teasing lilt to her voice that didn't quite mask the intimacy of the moment.
Ben huffed a laugh—a small, private sound that seemed to belong only to this room, this moment, this version of them that existed nowhere else.
The silence stretched again. Longer this time. Heavier.
The kind that tasted like truth waiting to be dragged out.
Katherine watched Ben's fingers tap idly against the sheets. Not restless. Just calculating. She could almost see the gears turning behind his eyes, the way he was weighing his next words. She'd come to recognize this particular quiet—the one that came before a question she wouldn't want to answer.
And then—
"That second night at Crimson Bloom..." Ben's voice was low, thoughtful. "You recognized me the second you walked in. Didn't you?"
Katherine didn't respond. Didn't move. Her body went perfectly still, as if somehow that might make the question evaporate into the darkness between them. She just stared at the ceiling, heart thudding slow and stubborn in her chest, counting the seconds of silence.
Ben shifted slightly beside her, his voice softer now—but sharper. "So why did you let it go that far? Why did you touch me? Why didn’t you keep your distance like the first time?"
Katherine stiffened. The muscles in her shoulders tightened. She'd been hoping—praying—he wouldn't ask this. Of all the questions, of all the truths he could drag into the light, this one felt the most dangerous.
Because the answer wasn't something she could justify with logic or necessity. It wasn't about Lisa or money or survival.
"I don't know," she said carefully, her voice measured and controlled. A perfect deflection.
Ben turned his head toward her. She could feel his gaze even without looking at him—steady, penetrating, seeing through the lie before it had even fully formed. There was no mercy in his tone now.
"Lying to me? Bad idea."
Katherine exhaled sharply. Not the accusation, but the truth of it stung. She always calculated everything—every decision, move, word. Except that night. When she should have run, kept her distance...she hadn't.
"I just..." Her voice was tighter now, quieter. "I wasn't thinking."
Katherine felt the weight of Ben's stare, even as she avoided meeting his eyes.
He didn't accept her answer—of course he didn't. She should have known better than to try such a flimsy deflection.
Ben Sinclair didn't just let things go, especially not when he sensed there was something worth pursuing.
"You always think, Katherine. So why?" His voice was soft but unyielding, the gentleness of it more dangerous than any demand could have been.