Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 155

Bennett had somehow slipped into the seat at the head of the table—a chair that radiated authority and status—without anyone noticing.

He lounged back with an easy confidence, his long, powerful fingers idly curled as his knuckles tapped a rhythmic, crisp beat on the polished dark wood, the sound still echoing faintly through the room.

He wore a finely tailored charcoal shirt, the top button undone, sleeves casually rolled to his forearms, exposing the sculpted lines of muscle beneath his skin.

Sunlight slanted through the windows, carving sharp edges into his profile and shrouding him in a calm, commanding aura.

His focus wasn’t on the laptop or the files before him. Instead, his gaze seemed to pierce through the motes of dust drifting in the golden air, landing squarely on Gwyneth, who lingered in the doorway, her expression dazed and uncertain.

That look was deep and steady, utterly unreadable, yet it wrapped around her like an invisible net, leaving her nowhere to hide.

The office was silent, save for the faint aftershock of his knuckle-tapping, trembling in the stillness.

A hint of a smile flickered at the corner of Bennett’s mouth—a barely-there upward curve that radiated control.

He watched her, lips parting as his rich, low voice cut through the emptiness, every word carrying the unmistakable authority of a boss addressing a subordinate, threaded with an intimacy only the two of them could understand.

“Gwyneth.”

He spoke her name clearly and deliberately, each syllable a gentle but unyielding summons—like a feather brushing across her heart.

“Are you planning to stand there all afternoon?” He lifted his chin a fraction, gesturing her inside, his eyes lingering on her as he spoke in a tone so mild it somehow pressed down on her shoulders. “Or do you need me to come over and invite you myself?”

His words left no room for argument. Pulling herself together, Gwyneth mustered a professional smile and strode toward him.

Bennett’s gaze tracked her every step, unblinking, as if his attention alone could pin her in place.

“What were you daydreaming about over there?” His voice was low, magnetic, probing just beneath the surface.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows braced on the wide desk, fingers interlaced. The posture was relaxed but radiated pressure, his dark eyes fixed intently on her.

“Are you upset I’ve taken over your office?”

Her response tumbled out before she could stop herself, laced with a reckless defiance she didn’t even recognize as her own.

“Yes, exactly! At least you know!”

There was a petulant note in her voice, a flash of stubborn vulnerability she couldn’t hide.

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