Fair Game (The Rules #1)

by Monica Murphy

  My skin tightens at her touch and my cock hardens beneath my shorts. Damn it. It’s like she looks at me wrong and I get a hard on. Not that it’s a bad thing. We always put my condition to good use.

  “You do,” I whisper, taking her hand and placing it directly in the center of my chest. “You own every piece of me, baby. Just like I own every piece of you.”

  Her eyes darken in that way they do when I know she’s aroused. I have all her tells figured out. When you spend as much time together as we do, that happens. And I love it. I love her. “I like it when you talk possessive.”

  “Really? Because when I won you in that bet and I claimed you as my prize, you slapped my face. Hard,” I remind her.

  She smiles and reaches up to cradle my cheek. “That’s before I knew better.”

  “Knew better?” I reach for her ass and cup her cheeks, tempted to yank her bikini bottom off and take her right here in the kitchen.

  Wouldn’t be the first time.

  “I had no idea that I was the one who was the real winner.” She smiles and pushes up on her tiptoes to press a lingering kiss to my lips. “I love you, Shep. Shepard. Sexy Shep. Man of my dreams. Owner of my heart,” she murmurs.

  “I love you, too,” I whisper just before I deepen the kiss.

  More than she’ll ever know.

  Writing a book isn’t easy, not always. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it feels like pulling teeth, each word painfully yanked from my brain.

  Luckily enough, FAIR GAME wasn’t like that for me at all. I adored writing every word of this book, despite my being incredibly sick during the last few weeks I worked on it. I fell in love with Shepard Prescott the moment he appeared on the page and so did Jade, despite her early protests. I adore Jade too. I love everyone in this book and can’t wait for you all to read Gabe’s and Tristan’s stories.

  There are people I need to thank who helped during the writing process of FAIR GAME. First up—huge, massive thank you to Autumn Hull who read. And read. And read this book as I fed it to her in chunks. Thanks for dealing with me, pushing me, and making sure I got this book done on time!

  To Katy Evans who fell in love with Shep right from the beginning and encouraged me to keep me going. I don’t know how I’d do this writing thing without you.

  I have to thank my family for putting up with me while I’m always, always, always working. Your support and patience means the world for me. I love you.

  And to the readers, the bloggers, the reviewers, for reading my books, spreading the word, chatting with me on social media, sending me emails, stopping by to talk to me at a signing…you all means so much to me. I would be nothing without your support so from the bottom of my heart: thank you.

  Check out an excerpt from OWNING VIOLET, the first in Monica Murphy’s The Fowler Sisters series…

  Chapter One

  Violet

  Tonight, my life is going to change.

  In preparation for it, I spent all day at the spa. Treated myself to a facial, massage, wax, mani, and pedi. My skin is smooth, my face is clear, my fingers and toes are painted a perfect demure pink. My muscles are relaxed and loose, but my brain . . .

  My brain is jumpy. My stomach is a mess of nerves. My outward appearance is the exact opposite of my inside because so much is on the line. Everything I’ve strived toward these last few years is coming to the final pinnacle tonight.

  Finally.

  I found a dress to wear for this special moment a few days ago at Barneys, one I knew Zachary would approve of. A navy-blue sheath, it hits just above the knee and skims over my curves, subtly sexy because he doesn’t like anything overt. Obvious.

  Meaning he hates everything my older sister wears, does, says. He doesn’t much approve of the way my blunt baby sister acts, either.

  But that’s fine. He’s going to ask me to marry him tonight. Not Lily or Rose.

  Me.

  There’s nothing obvious about me. I’m the epitome of understated. I would make the perfect politician’s wife. Standing behind my man, offering my never-ending support all while wearing the pleasant smile I’ve mastered over the years. There have been a few slipups in the past. I struggled once. Fought for my life, really, and survived.

  My father and grandmother like to pretend none of that ever happened. Zachary doesn’t even know about it. It’s a moment in time—before I met him—the family prefers to sweep under the rug.

  It’s so ugly, Violet, Father told me once. Wouldn’t you rather forget?

  So I try. For the family.

  Zachary arrives at my apartment right on time because heaven forbid he’s ever late. One of the many qualities I admire about him. He’s punctual, thoughtful, efficient, handsome, and smart. So incredibly smart. Some call him conniving. Others call him cutthroat. Rumors swirl that there are other women. I’m not stupid. I have my suspicions. They might have even been confirmed once or twice. But when we’re engaged, when we’re married . . .

  That will change. It has to.

  Zachary and I have a perfect relationship. The sort of relationship I’d dreamed of since I was a little girl. One that Lily mocks constantly, but what does she know about love?

  Sex and addiction and getting into trouble, she knows plenty. But love? I don’t think she’s had a real relationship in her life.

  I have. Boyfriends throughout junior high and high school, then my one very serious boyfriend in college. The one I’d originally thought I might marry. The one I gave my virginity to midway through freshman year. I’d been a real holdout, one of the last remaining virgins among my friends.

  He dumped me the beginning of our sophomore year. Right after everything . . . happened. The incident, I like to call it. The thing no one likes to talk about. So I don’t talk about it either.

  After the breakup, I remained single. Tried my best to rise above everything that happened by focusing on finishing school and then on my career, my legacy at Fleur Cosmetics.

  I might have quietly fallen apart for a short period of time that not many know about. We kept it secret. Father didn’t want any more public humiliations. We lost Mom so long ago and he always said I was the most like her. Delicate but determined. Smart but not always practical.

  I lived up to his expectations for a brief, not-so-shining moment. I needed therapy. I needed medication. More than anything, I needed to be numb. Craved being numb. Feeling emotions only hurt, and I was so tired of hurting.

  But eventually I knew I needed to learn how to cope on my own.

  Father let me return to work after my brief stint away. And when Zachary Lawrence started working for the company two years ago, getting to know him, I was soon interested. And so was he. I could tell. I didn’t care if at first he talked to me only because I was the CEO’s daughter. I flirted. I wanted his attention.

  And I eventually got it. Got him.

  I knew dating someone I worked with wasn’t the smartest move, but I couldn’t help it. Where else can I meet a man of such good quality? Someone I can trust? I have trust issues. No surprise, considering what I’ve been through.

  While my father calls most of the shots, the company really is a family business. Both Rose and I work there. Even my grandmother still comes in and consults, though she’s now eighty-five and mostly retired.

  She loves Fleur Cosmetics and Fragrance. My grandma is Fleur Cosmetics and Fragrance. She started the brand. It was her face that appeared in the magazine advertisements and billboards for so many years. Dahlia Fowler is a legend in the cosmetics industry.

  And despite my weaknesses and my father’s once complete lack of faith in me, I desperately want to follow in her footsteps. With Zachary by my side, of course, considering he works in the brand marketing department and has higher aspirations. The two of us could take Fleur to the next level. I know it. He knows it.

  Together, we’re a force to be reckoned with. And once we’re married . . .

  “You’re lost in thought.”

&
nbsp; Zachary’s deep voice washes over me and I blink, realize that he’s watching me. His brows are furrowed and his mouth is turned down. He looks concerned.

  “I’m fine.” I smile, hope lighting within me when I see the worry etched all over his handsome features slowly disappear. His blue eyes twinkle as he reaches across the table and takes my hand, grasping my fingers tightly.

  “I have something I want to discuss with you,” he says in that low, reassuring way of his.

  My smile grows and I nod, squeezing his fingers. “Now?”

  “Yes.” He takes a deep breath and lets go of my hand. Odd. “I’ve known about this for a while and it’s . . . taken everything within me to work up the courage to tell you.”

  Oh. How sweet. He’s nervous about proposing. Zachary’s always so confident about everything—I’m surprised. “Go ahead and just say it, Zachary. I’m fairly sure it will all work out in the end.”

  “I agree. Your father said the same thing.”

  My heart skips a beat. He spoke with Father. This is serious. This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for all this time. I can’t believe it. My fingers are literally trembling in anticipation of the ring he’s about to slip on my finger. I wonder how big it is. I don’t like gaudy jewelry. Neither does Zachary. Understated, refined—that’s more our style. Perhaps he spoke with Grandma and she gave him her engagement ring, though rightfully that should go to Lily since she’s oldest . . .

  “. . . so he’s asked me to test out the new position in London and see if I’d be a good fit. And I said yes.”

  Wait. What? “P-position? In London? What are you talking about?” I clear my throat, proud that I keep my voice level. I didn’t want to make a scene in the middle of one of the most elegant restaurants in all of Manhattan. I could hear my father’s voice now.

  Violet, that just wouldn’t do.

  “Your father is sending me to the London office, just on a temporary basis. They’ve created a new position there since growth in the UK and Europe has been so strong the last couple of years. I’ll be trying out the new chief brand and marketing director position both in London and Paris. It’s a tremendous opportunity, Violet. One I couldn’t turn down. This promotion could change everything.” The pointed look Zachary gives me says he’s made his choice and there’s no chance I can talk him out of it.

  “But . . . Wait a minute.” I shake my head, a huff of fake laughter falling from my lips. He can’t be serious. That’s what he wanted to tell me? About a possible promotion? To London? “What about . . .”

  “Us?” he finishes for me with that rueful, charming smile. The one that says he knows he’s a little bit in trouble but somehow he’ll talk himself out of it. As usual. “I won’t be gone for long, only a few months. Hey, I bet you could fly over for a weekend. Come to London or even better, Paris. We can explore the cities together.”

  No offer to take me with him to live there—not that I’d go, especially since it’s temporary. But it could turn permanent and he might end up staying. We don’t know.

  Would I leave to be with Zachary? Only if he promised that we would be married—and he vowed his complete fidelity. I feel safe here. Everything I know, my family, my friends, my career, is here. In New York. Not London or Paris. And what about the ring? The proposal?

  It sounds terrible in my own head, but I expected that. A beautiful diamond solitaire ring accompanied by an offer of marriage, along with Zachary’s promise of undying love and faithfulness to me. A girl can tolerate only so much and I know it’s stupid, but . . . I love him.

  I do.

  Disappointment threatens to wash over me, but I hold it at bay. I have to.

  “I think I know what you were hoping for,” he says softly. “But what sort of marriage could we start if we’re on two different continents? It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. We’re still young, darling, especially you. We have plenty of time.”

  “We’ve already been together almost two years . . .” My voice drifts and I drop my head, blinking my eyes shut for an agonizingly long moment before I open them again. I refuse to cry. I am twenty-three years old. I refuse to bawl like a little girl.

  “And maybe we’ll have another year, maybe two years, like this, but I promise, I will marry you.” My heart leaps at his words. “I swear. I just—I need this. This promotion is important to me and I’m not the only one your father is considering. I’m a front-runner, but still, there are no guarantees. For you, it’s different. This is your family. They’ll give you whatever you want,” Zachary says, irritation making his voice scratchy. Does he even register the change in tone? “But for me? I have to work at it. Constantly.”

  I stiffen my spine, offended by his words. They make it sound like I’m some sort of spoiled brat who gets whatever she wants whenever she wants. “I’ve worked very hard at Fleur since I was in my early teens,” I say in protest. “You know this.”

  He waves a hand, whether dismissing his words or mine, I’m not exactly sure. “You know what I mean. Just . . . let me have this. I’m not a selfish man but I’ve worked damn hard for this career, Vi.” I hate it when he calls me Vi and he knows it. “I’m almost thirty years old. The time for me to do this is now. Before I marry you and we have children and I won’t be able to ever leave.”

  The way he said that makes me think he would feel like he’s stuck with the wife and children. In other words, with me and our future children. Why am I letting this bother me? Am I being too sensitive? What he’s saying makes sense. He needs to push forward with his career. I understand that. But I need to push forward with my career as well. And my life. My personal life, with marriage and children and . . .

  My voice is hesitant as I say, “I could ask my father to step in and offer you a promotion here—”

  “No. I refuse to take that sort of handout. I will earn this promotion,” he says vehemently. “I want to do this. I would never hold you back, you know.”

  “That’s not fair,” I murmur, my gaze locking with his. A mix- ture of anger and sadness fills me, but he doesn’t appear sad at all. No, he looks excited. Like this is exactly what he wants. What he needs.

  Does this mean I’m not what he wants? What he needs? “It’s the truth,” he says simply. “And you know it.”

  He never told me he was interviewing for the position. And this sort of thing goes on for weeks. Sometimes months. My fa- ther didn’t tell me either, and that hurts because he knew what was happening yet never gave me a warning. More than any- thing, though, I hate that Zachary has kept this secret from me.

  Makes me wonder if he’s kept any other secrets.

  Don’t fool yourself. He’s kept plenty of secrets from you. Why do you put up with him?

  I swear my sister’s voice is berating me in my head. I can just see Lily’s smug expression, telling me she knew it all along. Zachary Lawrence doesn’t deserve me. She’s said that time and again. So has Rose.

  I’m starting to wonder if they’re right.

  A woman’s husky laugh draws my attention and I glance at a table a few feet away, recognition making my stomach sour. God, of course he’s here. A million restaurants in all of Manhattan and he’d have to show up in this one. The mysterious, arrogant Ryder McKay, fellow corporate employee of Fleur Cosmetics.

  Ryder’s with . . . of course, Pilar Vasquez, his former boss, his supposed lover, girlfriend, whatever he might call her. Their relationship is strange, to say the least.

  Strange because Pilar doesn’t talk about it and Ryder definitely doesn’t talk about it either. No one’s sure exactly what happens between them, but everyone would love to know.

  Not that I want to know. Or really care. His arrogance, the look on his handsome face, the way he strides around the build- ing as if he’s the king of all he sees, drives me crazy.

  If all goes as planned, that right will eventually go to Zachary someday. He is without a doubt the future CEO of Fleur.

  Or me.
I could be the CEO. Grandma has said that more than once. If I had half of her confidence, I could conquer the world.

  All I know is that Ryder McKay is definitely not on par with Zachary and all of his experience. He’s worked at Fleur a bit longer than Zachary, a little over two years. He came to the company via Pilar, who got him a position since she worked with him at her previous employer. Somehow, he’s gotten into the good graces of practically every executive who works at Fleur. His charm is dangerous, and I can reluctantly admit he’s a valued employee.

  Which makes him lethal. And I refuse to fall for him. Zachary hates his guts. Something about Ryder rubs me the wrong way.

  Ignoring the disgust curling through my blood, I try my best to keep my attention on Zachary, trying to ignore that the life I’d planned is falling apart in front of my eyes. But Zachary’s phone rings, and he takes the call without asking if I mind. Like I don’t matter, and I hate that. I hate even more that he turns away so he can murmur into the phone without me hearing.

  More secrets. It’s probably a woman. That I sit here and tolerate his behavior makes me want to smack him.

  Or smack myself.

  I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do, how to act, and I can’t help my gaze from drifting to where Ryder sits. He’s disgustingly gorgeous in a charcoal-gray suit and a crisp white shirt, though he’s sans tie and a few buttons are undone at the neck, revealing the sexy column of his throat. His dark brown hair is in slight disarray, as if he’s run his fingers through it countless times, and the entire look gives him a rakish air. One that says he doesn’t care what people think of him while he sits in a restaurant that caters to some of the richest people in all of Manhattan.

  That is the exact sort of attitude Ryder McKay always seems to have and I find it infuriating. Not that I have to deal with him, not much. He was promoted to associate director of package development a few months ago, a position I now can’t help but wonder why Zachary didn’t apply for, though it would have been more of a lateral move, not necessarily a step up. It would have kept him in New York, though.