Page 41 of Money Reigns
By the time the clock slides past noon, I’ve almost forgotten the nerves that usually strangle me. The door opens.
He strides in, silent, sure, carrying a small, sleek black box.
Not files. Not a folder.A box.
He sets it on my desk. No explanation. No movement. Just presence. Heavy with intent.
I hesitate. My fingers twitch toward it, then still.
His voice cuts through the air. Low. Calm. Absolute.
“You may open it.”
I swallow and lift the lid.
Perfume.Name-brand.
The real version of the imitation I’ve worn for years. My favorite scent, but one I could never afford.
My pulse stutters. “Why… why would you buy this for me?”
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t soften. His eyes pin me, sharp and unrelenting.
“Appreciation. For what you found yesterday.”
The zoning loophole.The one that made him go still for one impossible second.
“Oh,” I whisper. My fingers curl around the cool glass, but it feels heavier than perfume should. Loaded. Like a test I haven’t studied for.
“Use it,” he says. Not a suggestion. Not even a gift. A command.
My head nods before I can think. “Okay.”
Silence stretches. His eyes drag over me, unblinking.
My throat works. “Oh—you mean… now?”
Hedoesn’t answer. Just waits.
Heat floods my cheeks as I pull the cap free, misting my throat. The scent clings instantly; expensive, consuming, undeniably real.
I look back up at him, startled by how intimate it feels.
His lips lift, barely there. Not quite a smile. Something darker.
“Good.”
He stays standing. Watching me.
And for a moment, I don’t know what to do with my hands. My face. My breath.
So I look down.
“Your memo,” he says. “The one I asked for.”
My eyes flick back up. “I emailed—”
The look he gives me stops the words in my throat.
