Hard Rules

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Lunchtime!”

  At the sound of Jessica’s voice, I whirl around to find her hurrying toward me, her purse on her shoulder. “Snap, snap,” she commands. “Let’s head out.”

  “I can’t go, Jessica. I told you that.”

  She stops in front of my desk. “I talked to Shane. It’s fine.”

  “No,” I say. “I appreciate it. I really do, but I’m not going.”

  “He said—”

  “It doesn’t matter what he said. It matters what he’ll think.”

  “Wait in the lobby, Jessica.”

  My lips part in shock at the sound of Shane’s voice and Jessica whirls around to face him, her body blocking my view. Blood rushes in my ears. Brandon Senior can’t rattle me but his younger son can. I count three seconds and ten of my heartbeats, before Jessica steps aside to let Shane pass and heads for the lobby.

  Shane is instantly in front of me, leaning forward, and his hands are on my desk, much like Derek’s were. But he’s not Derek, and this is nothing like that encounter. “Go to lunch with Jessica, Emily.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “You can trust her. The woman won’t break a promise, or your trust, not even to me. I want you to go.”

  “Shane—”

  “You can’t work here, or live in this city, without anyone. Okay?”

  My chest tightens with the memory of him asking me that in the bathroom. “You’re sure?”

  “I don’t say anything I’m not certain about.”

  I am instantly reminded of him telling me that we’re good together, and I wonder if he questions that now. “I’ll go. Thank you.”

  He doesn’t move. I don’t move and that something indescribable I felt in the bathroom, and the restaurant, and every time I’m near this man, is happening again. I can’t escape it. I don’t want to escape it and I wonder how I can work with him and how I can leave and never see him again. “Have a good lunch,” he says, pushing off the desk and disappearing around the corner, and I swear he takes all the air in the room with him.

  My shoulders slump. How is it possible that my nipples are tight and aching? How can any man affect me this intensely? My mind goes back to the two men in my life, both extreme opposites; both had seemed right because they were so wrong, and turned out to be just wrong. And painful. But Shane is right and still wrong, and there seems to be nothing I can do about it.

  “You ready?”

  I glance up to find Jessica standing just this side of the hallway. Holding up a finger, I punch the intercom button. “I’m going to lunch with Jessica unless you need me to stay?”

  “What I need is Mike Rogers.”

  “I’ll keep trying him on my cell phone.”

  “Oh good grief,” I hear Mrs. Brandon say. “Let the poor girl go to lunch before you run her off too.”

  My eyes go wide and Jessica, who’s now standing in front of me, lifts her brows, her expression ripe with amusement. “Go to lunch,” Brandon Senior commands, giving me two of the Brandon men’s approval.

  I open my drawer, snatch my purse, and point toward our escape path before he changes his mind. We flee for the front and I stop to talk to the receptionist. “Hi, Kelly,” I say. “I’m going to lunch. If Mike Rogers calls, it’s crucial he talk to Brandon Senior. If we miss him, we might both get fired.”

  Her eyes go wide. “The last thing I want is that man angry at me. I’ll be careful not to miss the call.”

  “Great. Thank you.”

  Jessica and I head to the elevator but I’m not feeling good about this decision. “I’m worried about leaving.”

  “We can stay close,” she says, as one of the cars opens. “There’s a fancified pizza place downstairs.”

  “‘Fancified’?” I laugh. “I’m not sure that’s a word.”

  “It is because I say it is.”

  “You are a match made for Shane.” I cringe at the telling statement and quickly attempt a recovery. “Pizza it is,” I say, dashing into the elevator.

  She follows, punching the button and scrutinizing me. “Match made for Shane? I’d ask you how well you know him again, but I’ve seen how he looks at you. I already know.”

  I don’t fall into the trap of asking what that means. “What I know is that not only is he a Brandon, he’s a winning attorney. You seem to hold your own well.”

  “He called you Ms. Stevens earlier today and just now he called you Emily. And you call him Shane.”

  “You call him Shane.”

  “I’m his direct secretary.”

  “Jessica—”

  “I’m not being nosy. I have a point. If you both want to be discreet—”

  “There’s nothing to be discreet about.”

  “Then get the formality right,” she finishes as if I haven’t spoken. “Communicate and decide how you’re going to handle it and stick to it.”

  She has a point. “Thank you, Jessica.”

  “None needed. I protect Shane and he is very protective of you, which means I protect you too.” She doesn’t give me time to digest that tidbit before adding, “Maybe one day, not this day, you’ll trust me enough to tell me about it.” The elevator doors open and about five people are ready to crush us. We clear the car and fall into step.

  “Has Brandon Senior threatened to fire you yet?”

  “You’re the second person to ask me that in half an hour. And yes. He has.”

  “And you said what?”

  “He’s trying to find Mike Rogers so I asked him, if he fired me, who was going to find Mike Rogers for him.”

  She laughs. “He must really want Mike Rogers, and, truth be told, so do I. He’s rich, sexy, and actually has a personality.” We enter the line at the pizza joint.

  “Well, that will be a change,” I say, “considering everyone else involved in the hedge fund Senior has going is an ass.”

  “Money does that to people,” she says before turning her attention to the cashier to order a slice of pepperoni and water. I do the same, both of us paying and moving to the end of the bar.

  One of the six round wooden tables comes free and Jessica points. “Grab it. I’ll grab our food.”

  I take our waters and quickly dart forward and claim our spot, then grab a stack of napkins. About the time I’m fully settled, she joins me, and I take a bite and give a thumbs-up. “This is good and way too easy to grab considering how fattening it is.”

  Jessica finishes a bit and dabs at her mouth. “I get it to go sometimes, usually on those lonely Friday nights. My love life sucks, probably because I’m always working.”

  “Shane’s a slave driver?”

  “To himself. I try to help and force him to go home, but I fail mostly.”

  “How long have you been with him?”

  “Almost a year. I worked for an attorney that almost beat him in court a few years back. He figured that meant I had to be good.”

  “And you are.”

  “I am,” she says, and somehow it’s confident, not arrogant. She unscrews her water. “I need to tell you something. Shane doesn’t know about that hedge fund and he should. He has to sign off on all contracts. It’s part of his employment agreement.”

  “I don’t think it’s a secret. I wasn’t told it is.”

  “And yet Shane wasn’t told at all, which means I have to tell him and I don’t want you to think I did it in an underhanded way. I’ll make sure he makes them believe he found out on his own.”

  “I’m not worried about Shane, or you, throwing me under the bus and I appreciate you being forthright.”

  “Always,” she says. “Look. One of the reasons I wanted to go to lunch was to make sure you understand this family is at war and Shane is the good guy.”

  “I know Shane’s the good guy.”

  She studies me a moment, seeming to weigh my sincerity and then giving me an approving nod. We both eat and she gives me a rundown on the staff, ending with Anna, Derek’s assistant. “She’s new. I don’t know her. I
don’t plan to know her and she spends plenty of time behind closed doors with Derek.”

  “Oh,” I say, reading between the lines.

  “‘Oh’ is right.” Her phone buzzes where she’s set it on the table and she grabs it and looks at a message. “I’m helping Shane find a house or an apartment to buy and a hot one just hit the market. I need to run and look at it before someone scoops it up.”

  “You’re picking his home?” I ask, surprised he would hand over something so personal.

  “I didn’t want to, but he says he’s too busy to deal with it and he has a sudden urgency to move.”

  Because of his father showing up at the Four Seasons with his mistress, I think, but would never dare say.

  “He wants my top three recommendations,” she continues, “and I really want to find the perfect choices.” She touches my hand. “Come with me. You know him well enough to say he and I are a perfect match. I need help.”

  “No way. That would be highly inappropriate.”

  “Not if it’s helping me,” she argues. “He doesn’t have to know.”

  “I’m not going, Jessica.”

  “Fine. Fine.” She grabs her purse. “I hate to leave you.”

  “I’m fine and I need to get back to work.”

  She stands. “Let’s try again tomorrow.”

  “Yes. I’d like that.” And I mean it. I like her. I trust her. Shane trusts her and I get the feeling there aren’t many people he does trust, most certainly not me at this point.

  She darts away and I stare after her without really seeing her, my mind on Shane and the hedge fund. Why wouldn’t Brandon Senior tell him about something like that? Surely, word would spread. Is it just a power play?

  “Imagine meeting you here, Ms. Stevens.”

  I barely contain an outward jolt at the sound of Derek’s voice, recovering as he sits down in front of me, his navy suit complemented by a yellow tie.

  “I’m sure this place is popular for busy people who don’t want to leave the building.”

  He narrows his eyes on me, and while they are the same color as Shane’s, Derek’s are two shades colder. “I’m surprised my father let you leave at all.”

  “Your mother influenced him,” I say.

  “My mother has a way of influencing everyone. You too will be in a place of influence by my father’s side.”

  “I’m not by his side. I’m outside his door and hardly influential considering everyone is betting me out of the door.”

  “I’m not.”

  I don’t bother pointing out his inference otherwise, nor do I like the sense of being the gazelle with yet another lion. Narrowing my eyes at him, I seek to set a tone with this man as I did his father. “You have no food, Mr. Brandon.”

  “Derek.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “You work for my father, which means you’ll be handling sensitive material for both myself and my brother. It’s good business to know more about you. Clearly he’s already made that point. I’m late to the party.”

  Unease slides down my spine. Does he know about me and Shane? Could he have seen us? We were together in the building and near here. I laugh and manage to sound amused. “He must be good then.”

  “Good?”

  “More like amazing if he’s already assessed me, considering I’ve had about five minutes in total conversation with him.”

  His eyes glint. “Instead, he sent Jessica to get to know you and learn all your secrets.”

  That hits a nerve I don’t want to exist, but logically I know he’s trying to make sure I’m not in their camp and crossing enemy lines. For all I know, his father warned him I was at lunch with Jessica. “My secrets,” I say, leaning closer, “are very interesting.”

  He studies me, his attention piercing, his presence as commanding as Shane’s but with a cutting edge that makes one feel trapped rather than spellbound. “Are they now?”

  “They are,” I say, stepping out on a tightrope. “I once told my boss’s son he was an asshole. He wasn’t happy. He even threatened to fire me.”

  “And why was he an asshole?”

  I sit back. “I guess he was just born that way.”

  His lips curve and he laughs. “You’re entertaining, Emily.” And with that, he gets up and leaves, and I follow his path, confirming his departure, watching him turn left toward the building’s exit. That’s when my skin prickles and I cut my gaze to find Shane standing near the entryway of the restaurant watching me, his expression unreadable, but that dark, edgy energy is back. He stands there—just stands there—with me as his sole focus. I fear he thinks he just saw proof I’m colluding with his brother. I’m not sure what to do or not do, but before I figure it out, he turns and walks away. I start to go after him, but Jessica’s warning about discretion rings in my head, and I sit back down. I’ll tell her what happened. That’s appropriate, as Shane is my boss’s son. Just my boss’s son and if I keep treating him like more, I’ll become a tool Derek can use against Shane.

  The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, lies in its loyalty to each other.

  —Mario Puzo

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHANE

  It’s nearly seven o’clock and I have six contracts to review—all of which legal says they need by tomorrow—and I can’t help but think the inundation of work is an effort to hide something I need to find. And what the hell does it say that I have to think that way to survive in a family-run business and I’m part of the family in question? I toss my pen down and lean back in the chair, tension stiffening my body. Pushing away from the desk, I stand and walk to the window, staring out at the sky, lightning ripping down the path of darkness, seeing another storm brewing. My mind travels to where it has been many times the past few hours: Emily. Then my brother. Then Emily again.

  A knock sounds on my door. “Come in.” I turn to find Jessica in the doorway.

  “Can I look at some of those contracts for you?” she asks. “I am a paralegal, you know. And you actually pay me to help you with your workload.”

  “I’m good,” I tell her. “Go home.”

  “You go home.”

  “Find me one and maybe I’ll be more eager.”

  She narrows her stare on me. “Something happened.”

  “Something always happens,” I say, dismissing her dig for information. “Go home.”

  “I mean with the apartment and your father. That’s why you’re pushing me to find you a new place.”

  “Just get me the hell out of there, Jessica.”

  “I tried to get you to look at one today and we lost it. You can’t delay with a hot property.”

  My cell phone rings and I fish it from my pocket, confirming it’s Seth with an update on Boulder, and eyeing Jessica, who holds up her hands. “I’m going. I’ll shut the door behind me.”

  I give her my back and answer the call. “Talk to me.”

  The door shuts behind me as Seth says, “I’m going to need to stay a few days.”

  “What the hell does that mean? I thought you had the ammunition to control things down there, namely the CEO of that division.”

  “Yes. Riker.” There’s disdain in his voice. “He claims Nina found out he’s gay and threatened to go public.”

  I scrub a hand over my jaw. “Fuck. That’s possible.”

  “He was lying and I went to see Nina and her place is packed up. I called accounting and her check is to be hand delivered to your father. So wherever she is, he knows. You were right about not underestimating your father.”

  “What do you propose?”

  “For starters, I fly in a guy I know and the two of us wire the warehouse and Riker’s house. And I get a few guys in the warehouse on our payroll. Approve those things and I’ll get you control over this operation.”

  “I don’t see how I have a choice, but we need a backup plan with the rest of the board members.” I end the call and stuff my phone in my pocket, looking skyward and asking mys
elf why I’m here. Really? Why is this important to me? Derek would throw me under a bus in a heartbeat. If I open my mother’s eyes and she doesn’t walk away, then it’s on her. Fuck. This isn’t just about jail with a cartel in play anymore. It’s about life and death. I can’t leave. Besides, truthfully, the challenge of cutting through all this crap and making us great is one I revel in.

  Shoving the contracts into my briefcase, I hook the strap over my chest and shoulder, when a knock sounds on the door. Why is she still here? “Come in, Jessica.”

  The door opens and I freeze at the sight of Emily. “I need to talk to you,” she says, and before I can object she’s inside and shutting the door.

  “Are you insane?” I demand, rounding the desk and stalking toward her.

  “You’re angry,” she says as I stop in front of her. “I should have called or texted you after you saw me in the restaurant. Derek showed up out of the blue and just sat down. That wasn’t what it looked like.”

  “I’m not angry at you,” I say, fighting the damnable urge to touch her. “And that was exactly what it looked like and it was a reality check for me. You were right. We can’t happen. My brother clearly knows, or suspects, something between us and he will ruin you to ruin me.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “You already did. You shut me down when I was too selfish to know it had to be done. Don’t come into my office at this hour. It gets us attention we don’t need. And don’t come to me at all if you don’t have to.”

  “No one else is here,” she says. “Your father’s sick. I thought it was just bronchitis, but now I think it’s more. I thought about calling your mother, but I’ve only met her briefly and—”

  “When did you meet my mother?”

  “Today, and I have no sense of how he’d react to me calling her. That’s why I’m here. He’s really sick.”

  “Define ‘sick.’ Why do you think it’s more than bronchitis?”

  “He’s coughing up blood, Shane.”

  Blood. The word punches me in the chest. “You’re sure?”

  “Very and that can’t be good.”

  I run my hand through my hair. “I guess we all forgot to tell you he has cancer.” I reach for the door at the sound of her intake of air, yanking it open. “And he gets angry when he’s reminded that he does.” I leave her behind, stalking down the hallway and through the now dark lobby, not slowing until I’m at my father’s closed doors.