His Rules (One Night Stand Series Book 1)

by Toni J Strawn

  Abby wasn’t weak, and she hadn’t just tweaked my interest tonight, but come straight up and given it a good yank. An intriguing mix of need and control, domination and supplication, three hours and she’d burrowed deep under my skin.

  How much was an act and how much was Abby? The game had been furthermost from my mind when we’d been playing, but I’d liked it a little too much to let her go sweetly into the night.

  Because I hadn’t won? Maybe. But I hadn’t lost either. And Abby didn’t know me at all if she thought I was giving up. She might think she was tough, but I’d been up against tougher. I hadn’t put up with six years of taking it from the rich, arrogant trust-fund assholes to fall over at the first hurdle. Or the second. Or even the last.

  I smiled grimly as the elevator opened at the top floor, trying not to notice mine and Abby’s mingled scent unfurl around me. With a groan, I turned down the hallway, ignoring my stiffening cock and the fact that the woman who could alleviate the ache slept in a room somewhere beneath me.

  There would be a next time. I’d make sure of it.

  I dug into my pocket for my phone.

  “It’s late. This better not be about work,” Cole grumbled as he answered my call.

  “Since when have you ever stopped thinking about work?”

  “I’m a reformed man,” Cole retorted. “A few weeks of looking after your companies while you swan off playing consultant and I’m thinking of giving it up.”

  “Bullshit,” I scoffed. We’d known each other too long for me to believe it. “Anyway, if it is true, you’ll be happy to know I’m on my way back tomorrow. So, what am I walking into?” I glanced past the elevator to the stairwell. If business was still solid in Wellsford, a part of me toyed with the idea of tracking Abby down tonight. No more games. This time, I’d be the one making the rules. And she would obey them.

  “Well, since you ask, things are turning to shit in New Zealand. Nagasaki wants an earlier release on the new game, but I can’t get a firm grip on whether we have the resources to do it.”

  “So get more resource.” I pressed my lips together, immediately shifting gears.

  “It’s not that easy.” Cole put in quickly. “Rob is trying to get additional people but the market there is so small…”

  “Then shift production here,” I countered. “I can outsource to any number of platform providers here in the States and get it done twice as fast.”

  There was a pause at the other end of the line and I rolled my eyes. I knew what my friend was thinking.

  “What about Rob and his team?” Cole asked.

  “Harden up.” I said bluntly. There was no room for compassion in business. “I bought the company to deliver this deal to Nagasaki and if they can’t do that…” I left the statement hanging. Cole remained quiet and I sighed. “Business is business. You know that.”

  We’d both learned that lesson at school with the sons of Maryland’s privileged society the hard way. I had been the scholarship student and Cole was the kid with the right name but none of the money or power to go with it. The battle of survival against the power-hungry, influential boys had taught us that if you wanted to win, you had to control the game. However you could.

  “I think you should at least meet with them,” Cole said. “Hear what Rob has to say.”

  I rubbed at my brow and considered my options. One of which was not going to be tracking down the delectable Ms. Harkness tonight. “I’ll give Nagasaki a call,” I conceded finally. Cole released a breath. He still had too much of a social conscience. “But I’m not going to New Zealand. I don’t have time to fly to the other side of the world for something they should be able to handle.” Racing away to help a failing company wasn’t an efficient use of my time. If the company couldn’t fulfill its contract, I’d have no choice but to get rid of it.

  Besides, there was my encounter with Abby to consider. Nobody just declared themselves the winner and expected the game to be over. That wasn’t how I played the game. She wanted to go up against me? Challenge accepted. Abby had just become my next project and I wouldn’t rest until I’d found a way past the odds stacked against me. I would have her again.

  I’d need to play this carefully. I wouldn’t walk away, but I had a feeling Abby might. She’d been hurt, that much was clear. Meaning, Abby had a weakness and I had an edge. I smiled as I said goodbye and hung up on Cole. The slimmest margin was all I needed.

  Chapter Nine

  Abby

  I had long since given up trying to sleep and was waiting at the airport six hours before my scheduled flight to Chicago.

  I wanted—no, needed to forget last night—which had been impossible in that damn hotel room. Tossing and turning in bed, it’d been too easy to remember the way my body had moved beneath Marcus’s hands as they’d traced each crease and hollow, the way his tongue had licked my skin, causing explosions of pleasure along every nerve. Each sleeping position became more uncomfortable than the last, while every movement caused my muscles to stretch and ache with satisfaction.

  I was completely and utterly satiated. A pity my brain hadn’t caught up with that fact yet. Scenes from last night kept rolling, faster than a flickering kaleidoscope, replaying each delicious event that had taken place after Marcus had closed the boardroom door. And make no mistake. They were events.

  Twice during the night I’d considered going back up to the top floor—and what?—sneak along the corridor until I sniffed Marcus out? Gah! It was when I’d gotten half-dressed with the intention of heading for the elevator that I decided the time had come to leave Baltimore.

  A lifetime later, and I was approaching Chicago. The city lay low in a thick bank of clouds, but as the plane dropped through the final layers, the familiar skyscape slowly revealed itself. Only then did the tension begin to ease from my shoulders, my breathing less like an exercise and more of a habit.

  For the first time in a long time, I looked forward to coming home.

  The cab pulled up outside my block. The buildings’ outer façade still reflected the rough and ready heritage of an old workers quarters. Inside was anything but—gleaming white counters offsetting functional furnishings in various shades of white and gray. I had all the modern facilities without needing to care for any of it. A quick swipe of the surfaces and it was like I’d never been away.

  Except for the light blinking on my answering machine.

  A light that made my stomach clench into a tight ball and muscles lock in place. It took several deep breaths before I managed to sidle past the table where the phone sat. I knew who it would be. My mother. Or my sister, Nicky. They’d tracked me down again. It had to be them because Stacy was the only person who knew my home number and even then, she never used it. She always called my cell.

  I dumped my bag in my bedroom at the end of the hall. Next stop was the kitchen. I cracked the top on a water from the fridge and poured myself a glass, only realizing I was shaking when liquid sloshed over the rim.

  Damn it. After three years of dodging my family, I thought I was immune to this shit. Their limp-wristed olive branches after Nathan and Nicky had come clean about their lurve. They hadn’t wanted to hurt me, they’d said. As if not telling me hurt any less when the truth came out.

  I lifted the glass to my cheek and focused on the chill biting into my skin, until I couldn’t feel anything through the numbing cold. Not the glass. Not my fingers. Nothing. Just like they’d done to my heart.

  I laughed, a harsh sound that echoed around the empty room and came back to where I stood by the counter. It was funny, really. In Nathan, I had thought I’d found the one thing my sister didn’t have. Nicky had been overseas on a postgraduate scholarship and I’d been finishing my degree at the local college. As odd as it seemed for an accountant, mathematics had never been my strong suit. Good Samaritan Nathan had offered to help with extra tutoring.

  Try as I might, I never could remember who’d made the move resulting in me and Nathan naked in bed. It ha
dn’t seemed important then. We’d worked well enough together. Had fun times. The pregnancy scare fast-tracked our relationship—a relationship I was positive would’ve ended in engagement anyway.

  Then Nicky came home from France.

  I hadn’t noticed any change in mine and Nathan’s relationship, but then, I hadn’t been looking for the signs because it had never occurred to me that my sister or fiancé would betray me. I could never have guessed Nathan would take one look at Nicky and fall hard. Then, instead of being honest about his feelings and breaking off the engagement, he’d taken every opportunity to have my sister. In our home. In my bed. God, I had even left them on their own a couple of times when I’d raced away to some study group or another. I’d felt guilty for ditching them at the last minute.

  How they must’ve laughed at me…

  Water slopped over the bench and dribbled onto the floor as the glass tipped to the side, long forgotten. Fuck. I snatched up a cloth to mop at the spill. All the while my attention was pulled through the doorway to the silently blinking answering machine. If I stared hard enough, maybe the red light would disappear. The battery might run out, or the tape would self-destruct in ten seconds. There was only one way I knew how to deal with it. Death of the message.

  Except something stilled my hand from automatically obliterating it. I had pushed the button to play before I could stop myself.

  “Abby, it’s Nicky. Look, I know you’re mad at me still, but please, just stop…and listen. I’m pregnant. Me and Nathan…we’re having a baby. I need you. I need my sister. Please. I know we did wrong. Me. Nathan…Mom…but we were only—”

  I yanked the answering machine out from the wall and stalked outside to dump it in the trash. Hard enough to break it. Now they were having a baby? For a moment, my heart contracted painfully as a shot of panic clinched my chest tight. Didn’t Nicky realize Nathan would do to her what he’d done to me? How could she bring a baby into a relationship like that?

  Then the sound of my sister trying to rationalize her behavior crept back into my subconscious. Along with my anger. It was always the same. ‘We didn’t mean to. We were only…we’re in love.’ It made me sick. Love wasn’t a good enough reason to stab your sister in the back then hand the knife to your mother to plunge it into your heart.

  Fuck them all. I didn’t need any of them. My life was better now and last night with Marcus had proved it. Best. Sex. Ever.

  Knowing I’d never find sleep, I grabbed my keys and headed to work. At least there was one person in the world I could still trust.

  Chapter Ten

  Abby

  “No way. No fucking way!” I stared in disbelief at my best friend and business partner, the one person I’d believed would never cause me grief.

  “Damn it, Abby. Why not?”

  Stacy rolled her wheelchair out from behind her desk and pulled to a stop on the other side of the meeting table I used whenever I was back in town.

  Ignoring my scowl, Stacy continued as if I wasn’t doing my best bulldog impersonation. “Mr. Brookhein specifically asked for you to consult for him, Abby. You must have made quite an impression. He said your performance in the boardroom was, and I quote ‘the best he’d ever seen’.” Stacy paused, her eyes glued to my expression. “Which is interesting when we both know delivering reports isn’t your forte.”

  My face heated, even as I bit back an unwelcome smile. At least Marcus hadn’t stooped to mentioning our creative juices flowing.

  But Stacy got it anyway. Her expression turned to one of horror. “Oh my God. You fucked him, didn’t you? In the boardroom?” Horror twisted to admiration, then morphed quickly into excitement. “And he wants to hire you? Yay, Abby. Go for it!”

  “No. Not go for it.” I gripped the edge of the desk. “This is bad, Stace. Really bad.”

  But there was no stopping her. Stacy burbled on about how fantastic it was, her voice carrying higher and higher while I rested my forehead on the table and let out a groan. Why the hell had Marcus asked me to consult for him? He should know the damn rules. After all, I’d thrown them in his face enough times.

  “He’s not Nathan.” Stacy spoke the words lightly, as if trying to draw attention away from the fact she’d said his name out loud. The air quieted between us.

  I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth as old feelings of anger and helplessness hit. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. The dead limbs on my rotting family tree had been lopped off the day my mother and sister made their choice not to tell me.

  Stacy scooted her chair up to my side and her hand fell on my shoulder. “It’s all right, Abby. I’ll do it.”

  I smiled and shook my head. “You can’t. You know you can’t.”

  “Why not?” Amusement lit Stacy’s voice as she tried to lighten the mood. “It’s because I’m in a wheelchair, isn’t it?” she pseudo-whispered.

  This did make me chuckle. “You’re six months pregnant,” I snorted, attempting to poke at her stomach. I couldn’t do it, not even in jest. Instead, I laid my hand flat across the middle of Stacy’s round belly, hoping for a prenatal high five. “And you have two kids. Steve would kill me if I took you away for a day, let alone a few weeks,” I finished, trying not to think of Nicky. Pregnant.

  Stacy shifted my hand a little to the left and I was rewarded with a prod from within her stomach. I pressed harder, grinning.

  “I’d still do it you know,” Stacy told me.

  “I know you would.” I withdrew my hand, my smile fading.

  Stacy gave my fingers a squeeze. “Anyway, it’s only four weeks.” She threw this last comment out casually as I retreated behind my laptop.

  “Four weeks!” The words squeaked out of lungs that were suddenly airless. I banged my head on the table. “Can’t we say no? Do we really need the money?” I knew the answer before I started begging. Wasn’t it hilarious we were financial consultants and a whacking great tax bill threatened to ruin us? Thank you, Uncle Sam.

  Stacy winced. “Taxes are due at the end of next month. After our big profit last year…”

  “I know. I know.” I held up my hand to stop her.

  “Come on, Abby,” Stacy prompted. “It’s only a few weeks. Just get in, do the bizo and leave. Relentless. Like a shark.” She swam her hand through the air.

  “And what is a shark’s biggest predator?”

  “Uh, whale?” Stacy hazarded a guess. “Oh, oh, I know this. Man!”

  Bingo. “And what is Marcus?” I fixed her with a dry stare.

  Her face fell. “Oh.”

  “Yes. Oh.” Because there was no mistaking Marcus was all man.

  A dark shiver trickled its way down my spine as I realized I was heading into dangerous waters.

  When Stacy went home for the day, she left me staring at my computer screen. Killing time. Trying not to think about why Marcus had called. Or the fact I had to go through with taking his job, despite my better judgment. I had found the strongly worded letter from the federal tax department tucked away on Stacy’s desk. Last year had not been a good one for Stacy health-wise and she’d needed the drawdowns from our partnership. But with money came taxes. Which meant we needed more money.

  Giving in to five hours of temptation, I opened the internet and typed in Marcus’s name. The screen filled with links, and I followed one to an article from Baltimore’s top news site. So, he’d graduated early from a prestigious Maryland Boys’ School, scholarship all the way before finishing a double degree by the time he was twenty-one. Marcus had made his first million a couple of years later, playing the stock market and getting his money out before the slump. Smart.

  I hadn’t needed to read any of that to determine Marcus was highly competitive. His approach in the meeting with Crovens shareholders had spelled that out. And the way he’d stepped right up to the bar last night in Baltimore… Which brought me back to the reason I was searching stuff about him. Why did millionaire Marcus Brookhein need a small, specialist consultancy firm like mine to advis
e him on tax matters? The sex had been great. Sure. But you didn’t make money throwing it away on something equivalent to a high class hooker. And with a body like his, he didn’t need to.

  No. Marcus had to have something in mind for my particular set of financial skills. Which did intrigue me.

  I clicked open our client database and retrieved the newly created file with Marcus’s details. It wasn’t the first time tonight I’d looked at it, each time reaffirming I had to contact him and lay down the ground rules. Whatever his little game, it was obvious Marcus played to win, and I needed to keep him on the back foot to ensure the situation remained tightly in my control.

  But first…

  Feeling like a stalker, I looked up Marcus’s Wellsford address on a global mapping app and changed to street view. I told myself it was better to know thy enemy, trying to ignore the thrill of excitement at the thought of spying on where he lived. Or as much as I could see of it, hidden by miles of six foot fencing. If I tilted the view up, I caught fragmented glimpses of the top two stories of a huge, gabled brick mansion.

  Switching to satellite, I saw the back of the house sat up against the edge of the Potomac River with a private beach that sloped down to the water. If I zoomed in, I could just make out a small boat drying in the sun.

  Single scull. A silvery shudder threaded its way through my veins. I’d like to see Marcus row. Topless.

  Squirming in my seat, I shut down the internet and reopened Marcus’s address details. A quick inquiry pinpointed his offices in the heart of downtown Wellsford. My home for the next four weeks. I closed it with no more than a cursory look.

  This was business. Something I needed to make abundantly clear to Marcus before turning up to work for him. I looked at my watch. Midnight. Which meant one in the morning for in Maryland. I judged it was late enough to call his work number and safely assume Marcus wouldn’t be there.