Breaking All the Rules (5 page)

He wants a month-long commitment. At the end of this month I’ll either be over my Iceman obsession or have my heart shattered. A normal woman would run away from this no-win scenario.

There’s nothing normal about me. “Exclusivity works both ways,” I tell him. “You’re not to touch any other women.”

“I agree.” Nate nods, giving his acquiescence surprisingly quickly. He reaches into his suit jacket, retrieves his phone, taps on the screen. “We’re both free at noon. I’ll schedule a meeting to finalize the contract. We’ll want it signed today.”

His eagerness to lock me in scares and excites me. “I don’t do contracts.”

“You should always do contracts. It’s risky to supply services without one.” Nate reaches into his pocket again. “I could walk away now and not pay you.”

He hands me a green money clip stretched wide with cash, reminding me who I am to him. I’m his prostitute, a woman he thinks he’s bought.

I still don’t know why this is a bad thing.

“I could hack into your bank account and pay myself.” I grip the cash. He prepared the payment in advance. He planned for our encounter. I thumb through the folded bills, pretending to count the money, uninterested in the total. “You overpaid by twenty dollars.”

“I always overpay by twenty dollars.” Nate’s lips curl into his version of a smile. “You can earn that money at noon.”

I don’t know if I can wait that long, my desire for Nate already consuming me. “I’ll earn that money in a minute, darling.” The elevator doors open at my floor. “Twenty dollars doesn’t buy you squat.”

I hear a chuckle as I walk away. It couldn’t have come from Nate’s lips. The Iceman never laughs.

My spirits are high and I’m extra loud with my morning greetings, earning me four shushings, two tongue clucks, and one “For goodness’ sake. Some people are trying to work.”

“Green,” Miss Yen yells. No one dares to shush her.

I march into her office and plunk my ass down on one of the guest chairs. Sitting in a small confined space with my overly observant boss is high risk. I’m not wearing panties, I smell like sex, and I have a money clip the size of a transport truck stuffed in my cleavage.

Miss Yen stands behind her desk, her phone pressed to her ear. She’s wearing yet another formfitting black suit. It’s beautiful and likely expensive, the same type of suit Nate’s women-for-hire often wear.

I tug on my ill-fitting blazer and my fingernails break through the thinning fabric. My shoulders droop. I don’t have time to shop for a replacement suit.

“I have to reschedule. Something came up.” Miss Yen scowls at me as she talks on the phone. I’m definitely in deep doo-doo.

“Yes, two o’clock will work. Thank you.” She slams the phone down on the desk. “Mr. Henley requested an eight o’clock meeting.” Miss Yen crosses her arms. “Do you have any idea why Blaine Technologies’ head of cybersecurity would want to see me?”

I have many ideas as to why Mr. Henley might want to see my boss. They range from yet another complaint from Jerome, his oppressive security guard, to the stinky food issue. “I could find out for you,” I offer, sidestepping the question.

“No, don’t
find out
for me,” Miss Yen snaps. “Don’t open files you shouldn’t have access to. Don’t snoop in other people’s e-mail boxes. Don’t
borrow
passcards or break into stairwells.” She lists some of my past crimes. “Sit at your desk and finish the expense reports.”

“Yes, Miss Yen.” I slink out of her office, clunk my backpack into one of my desk drawers, and slump into my seat. A cloud of floral perfume hangs over my cubicle, the stench originating from the pinch-faced lady’s desk.

I peruse an expense report, Miss Yen’s anger sucking all of the joy out of my encounter with Nate. When I first joined Blaine Technologies I thought working here would be different. Gabriel Blaine, the founder and CEO, is a former hacker, a man who thumbed his nose at the establishment and paid the price, spending some time in the slammer for freeing information.

I match expenses to receipts. Mr. Blaine’s chief of security, Mr. Henley, is one of the top experts in the world and is a man known to do anything, and I mean
anything
, to keep his people safe. I respect his sense of purpose.

Nate is more badass than Mr. Blaine and Mr. Henley combined. My favorite CFO might follow rules, but they are his rules. He wants to pay for sex? He pays for sex, potential jail time be damned. He wants to fuck a green-haired rebel chick in the company elevator? He fucks a green-haired rebel chick in the company elevator. Screw the security cameras.

I open the electronic report and adjust one of the values in the expense form. All of the totals change, requiring me to reprint and reconfirm the numbers. I march over to the printer, grab the paper, and return to my seat.

The executives aren’t a bad bunch and I could even put up with nasty people like Jerome and the pinch-faced lady. It’s the excessive rules that drive me batty. We have to wear dark suits. We must start work at eight o’clock. We can’t access certain areas, including the stairwells, the entire fourth floor, and Nate’s locked office.

I spot Mr. Henley as the big man lumbers down the hallway, his head, neck, and shoulders visible over the cubicle walls. He has an ominous frown on his scarred face.

I hunch over the expense reports, hiding from him. If he can’t find me he can’t fire me. That’s my theory.

The door to Miss Yen’s office closes. Closed-door meetings never impart good news. I check off expense totals as I confirm them.

My phone buzzes. I glance at the small screen. Nate has sent me an invitation for the noon meeting, the subject being customer satisfaction. I mark the meeting as tentative, not knowing if I’ll have a job in four hours. Less than a minute later the meeting status is changed to mandatory.

I laugh. Nate is a bossy, bossy man, and he’s thinking about me.

The pinch-faced lady hisses at me, my work neighbor irritated by my happiness. I dig my lunch out of my backpack—the curry Jerome, the security guard, contaminated—and open the lid, allowing the fragrant spices to escape.

My nemesis hisses even louder, sounding as though she has an air leak. I replace the lid, my mission accomplished, and focus on the expense reports. I have one more set to verify and I want to complete this task before I get fired.

Miss Yen’s office door opens. I work faster, totaling the last column in record time.

“Green,” my boss yells mere seconds after I set the last expense report on the top of the pile. The pinch-faced lady cackles. She knows I’m in big trouble.

I dump my entire lunch into the wastebasket, put the empty container in my backpack, and trudge to my boss’ office. “You wanted to see me, Miss Yen?”

“No, I don’t want to see you, but I have to see you, don’t I?” Miss Yen bows her body over her desk, rubbing her temples, appearing defeated. “Sit.” First I break Nate. Now I’ve broken the dragon lady. I don’t know whether to be proud or dismayed.

I fill the nearest guest chair and lean back, stretching my legs. Past experience has taught me that being fired takes a long time. I might as well get comfortable.

“What is your relationship with Mr. Lawford?” Miss Yen lifts her head and meets my gaze.

My body temperature drops. She’s found out about Nate and me. “Mr. Lawford is Blaine Technologies’ CFO,” I quip, buying time as I figure out a game plan. My job is a goner, but I might be able to save Nate’s position.

“Drop the innocent act, Green.” Miss Yen leans toward me. “There are security cameras in the shredding room.”

“Oh.” I chew on my bottom lip, thinking quickly. “It’s all my fault.” I take the blame.

“I know who is responsible.” Miss Yen shakes her head. “In the eight years I’ve known Mr. Lawford, he has never acted inappropriately.”

I stare at Miss Yen. She doesn’t know about the escorts. She believes his squeaky-clean Iceman image.

“There was also a transfer of money caught on video.” Miss Yen lowers her gaze to my chest, and I shift nervously in my chair, aware that I have Nate’s money clip tucked into my corset. “Some people might see that footage and think Mr. Lawford was being blackmailed.”

I swallow hard. “I wouldn’t hurt Nate. I believe in peace and love.” I form a V with my fingers and smile brightly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“You also believe in chaos and anarchy.” Miss Yen studies me closely. I drop my hand. I’m not fooling anyone, especially not my keen-eyed boss.

“And you have a unique way of solving problems,” she continues. “Mrs. Blaine and Miss Volkov, your friends, are both in happy relationships. It’s understandable that you want that same happiness for yourself.” My boss nods as though she has me all figured out. She has no freakin’ clue. Even I haven’t figured myself out.

“But this isn’t the way to do it, Green.” Miss Yen tilts her body forward, her expression uncharacteristically gentle. “A relationship built upon threats won’t last.”

I blink. “You think I’m blackmailing Nate into a relationship?”

She hesitates for a heartbeat and then nods. “Money and sex are two powerful ways to control a man.”

“Or to control a woman.” A trickle of sweat drips down my spine. “That clever bastard. He wants to change me, doesn’t he? Make me into someone I’m not, someone he thinks he can love.” Tension stretches across my shoulders. I can’t be that person. My true nature always shines through. “That’s what you’re saying, right?” I look at Miss Yen.

She gazes at me as though I’ve lost my mind.

Because I
have
lost my mind. “What am I talking about?” I laugh loudly. “He’s Nathan Lawford. He’s wealthy, intelligent, good-looking. He can have any woman he wants.” My shoulders lower as my anxiety dissipates. “Why would he go to the hassle of changing a green-haired rebel child?”

“I thought you were responsible for the activities in the shredding room.” Miss Yen lifts her eyebrows.

“I am. It was all me.” I wave my hands. “I never follow the rules.”

“You should follow the rules in the future.” Miss Yen sighs. “Get back to work and try to stay out of trouble.”

I scurry out of Miss Yen’s office before she changes her mind. For some unknown reason she isn’t firing me. I won’t question this good luck.

The hallway smells like curry, and the pinch-faced lady mutters dire threats as she sprays rose-scented deodorizer into the air. I return to my desk, knot the top of the garbage bag, and carry the remains of my lunch to the break room. I still have a job. My work neighbor will have to deal with my ethnic food, at least for one more day.

Chapter Four

I
WAIT UNTIL
ten minutes to twelve, gather the expense reports, and walk to the elevators. The pinch-faced lady has already warmed up her broccoli, the hallway reeking of booty bombs. Thanks to Jerome, the nasty security guard, I have no lunch.

I hope Nate has ordered something for our meeting. It won’t be a tasty something. I’ve arranged meals for Miss Yen’s lunch meetings. These orders normally consist of fancy sandwiches and macaroni salad, the choices as appetizing as the china plates on which they’re served. At this point I’m not fussy. Even thinly shaved roast beef stuffed into a white roll will take the edge off my hunger.

I push the elevator up button five times, and the doors open as though the elevator has been waiting for me. Three dark-suited corporate clones huddle against the mirrored wall, the same mirrored wall Nate fucked me against that morning.

We’ll fuck again in this meeting. This is the sweetest gig I’ve ever landed. I’m being paid outrageous amounts of cash to boink the man of my dreams.

I still can’t figure out why this is a bad thing.

The tallest clone clears his throat. “You’re going to the seventh floor,” he observes. Freckles are sprinkled across his rosy face. “That’s the finance department.” He pauses and I wait. He says nothing, gazing at me expectantly.

I remember I have a role to play. I’m his boss’ money honey. “I know that’s the floor for the finance department,” I purr in my most seductive voice, fully embracing my inner sex goddess. “Accountants make me hot.”

“T-t-they do?” he squeaks. The other two corporate clones stare at me.

“Oh yes.” I trace the edges of the expense reports slowly, sensually. “There’s nothing sexier than a man with a head.” I drop my gaze to his groin. “For numbers.” I lick my bottom lip.

“I—I—I . . .” he stammers, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

I smother my smile. Breaking Nate’s employee is surprisingly satisfying. “But a coworker of yours is a big meanie.” I pout, curling my pierced bottom lip. “He rejected all of my expense reports and my boss yelled at me.”

“No!” the clones collectively gasp.

“Yes.” I examine each man, allowing my gaze to linger over their bodies, imagining they’re Nate. “If he rejects the reports again I’m scared I’ll get fired, and I won’t ever see any of you again.”

“T-t-that won’t happen.” The shortest clone steps forward. “Give me your expense reports, miss, and I’ll take care of them for you.”

“No, I will,” the other two men volunteer in unison.

“Can you do that?” I flutter my eyelashes. “Are you that powerful?”

“Yes,” all three of them assure me.

“That would be,” I sigh, my breasts rising and falling, “positively heroic.” The elevator doors open and I hold out the expense reports. The tallest clone grabs them first. “Thank you, boys.” I wiggle my ass as I exit, the doors closing behind me.

“Hi.” I smile at Gladys, the gatekeeper. The elderly woman who guards Nate’s domain sits behind a painstakingly neat black lacquer desk. Her plump form is clad in a simple ebony suit. Glasses are perched on the tip of her button nose. “I have a twelve o’clock appointment with Nate.”

“You may go in, Miss Trent.
Mr. Lawford
is expecting you,” she subtly corrects me, her pink lips pursed with disapproval.

“Thank you,
Gladys
.” I stride over the threshold and trek at a fast clip along the hallway, unencumbered by the expense reports. The finance floor resembles the legal floor, the walls, carpet, and cubicles gray, the layout similar. Multiple printers hum and voices whisper. I sniff the air, smelling curry, beef teriyaki, and oranges. Maybe we won’t be eating plastic sandwiches after all.