Black Rules

by Charlotte Byrd

  Black Rules

  Charlotte Byrd

  Contents

  Praise for the Black Edge Series

  About Black Rules

  Prologue - Aiden

  Chapter 1 - Ellie

  Chapter 2 - Ellie

  Chapter 3 - Ellie

  Chapter 4 - Ellie

  Chapter 5 - Ellie

  Chapter 6 - Ellie

  Chapter 7 - Ellie

  Chapter 8 - Ellie

  Chapter 9 - Ellie

  Chapter 10 - Aiden

  Chapter 11 - Ellie

  Chapter 12 - Ellie

  Chapter 13 - Ellie

  Chapter 14 - Aiden

  Chapter 15 - Ellie

  Chapter 16 - Ellie

  Chapter 17 - Ellie

  Chapter 18 - Ellie

  Chapter 19 - Ellie

  Chapter 20 - Ellie

  Chapter 21 - Ellie

  Chapter 22 - Ellie

  Chapter 23 - Ellie

  Chapter 24 - Ellie

  Chapter 25 - Ellie

  Books by Charlotte Byrd

  About Charlotte Byrd

  Copyright

  Praise for the Black Edge Series

  “Titillation so masterfully woven, no reader can resist its pull. A MUST-BUY!” - Bobbi Koe

  “Captivating!” - Crystal Jones

  "Exciting, intense, sensual” - Rock, Amazon reviewer

  “Sexy, secretive, pulsating chemistry…” - Mrs. K, Amazon reviewer

  “Fast-paced, dark, addictive, and compelling” - Clpetit56, Amazon reviewer

  “Hot, steamy, and a great storyline.” - Christine Reese

  “My oh my....Charlotte has made me a fan for life.” - JJ, Amazon reviewer

  "The tension and chemistry is at five alarm level.” - Sharon, Amazon reviewer

  “Hot, sexy, intriguing journey of Elli and Mr. Aiden Black. - Robin Langelier

  “Great start to fantastic series!” - Brenda, Amazon reviewer

  “Sexy, steamy and captivating!” - Charmaine, Amazon reviewer

  “ Intrigue, lust, and great characters...what more could you ask for?!” - Dragonfly Lady

  “An awesome book. Extremely entertaining, captivating and interesting sexy read. I could not put it down.” - Kim F, Amazon reviewer

  “Just the absolute best story. Everything I like to read about and more. Such a great story I will read again and again. A keeper!!” - Wendy Ballard

  “It had the perfect amount of twists and turns. I instantaneously bonded with the heroine and of course Mr. Black. YUM. It's sexy, it's sassy, it's steamy. It's everything.” - Khardine Gray, Bestselling romance author

  About Black Rules

  We don’t belong together.

  I should have never seen him again after our first night together. But I crave him.

  I’m addicted to him. He is my dark pleasure.

  Mr. Black is Aiden. Aiden is Mr. Black. Two sides of the same person.

  Aiden is kind and sweet. Mr. Black is demanding and rule-oriented.

  When he invites me back to his yacht, I can’t say no.

  Another auction.

  Another bid.

  I’m supposed to be his. But then everything goes wrong….

  Prologue - Aiden

  When she’s all I think about

  I don’t know what has come over me.

  I’ve become obsessed with Ellie. Maybe even addicted to her. I want to see her all the time.

  I want to touch her. I need her to touch me. I crave her presence. When she’s not around, the hours drag by at a snail’s pace.

  And when she is around, my body gets filled with so much excitement, I’m practically bouncing off the walls.

  She has forgiven me for taking her to the live sex club, but I haven’t forgiven myself. I should’ve known better, but I’ve been so completely immersed in my own world that it didn’t even occur to me that she wouldn’t necessarily be into it.

  The thing about my world is that women are always throwing themselves at me. I’ve been on the cover of Fortune and Time, and numerous gossip magazines and newspapers have started to refer to me as New York’s (and by that, the world’s) most eligible bachelor.

  And this title comes with certain responsibilities. I need to be seen and photographed with various socialites and celebrities at least once a week. And not just photographed.

  Women have expectations when they are taken on dates by eligible bachelors. They want to be wined and dined and fucked accordingly.

  Well, I’ve known Ellie only a week, I’m already falling behind in my duties.

  There hasn’t been one scandal and my public relations manager is at a loss as to what to do.

  I mean, she does get paid a pretty penny to keep my name clean even if I do everything in my power to dirty it up.

  “I’m sort of seeing someone.” I try to explain when she questions me on the phone.

  “You are? Who? Is it the heiress to the Warrenhouse fortune?”

  She rattles off a few other promising possibilities - women I’ve been linked to during the past few months.

  But I keep saying no, no, no.

  “So, tell me. I mean, this is huge news.”

  “No, it’s not.” I shake my head. “It’s not news at all. I don’t want it public. We don't want it public.”

  I correct the word I to the word we because I actually have no idea how Ellie would respond to any of this.

  And I don't want to spring it on her. I need for things to remain as normal as possible between us because I’m terrified of breaking the spell that she has put me under.

  “Listen, I can’t talk about this anymore. I’m spending the weekend on the yacht again. I’ll be in touch afterward.”

  After hanging up abruptly, my thoughts turn back to Ellie. She’s actually going to the yacht party again. I thought that she would, but I wasn’t completely sure.

  I know that going to the last one was a big deal for her.

  Very out of character.

  That’s one of the reasons why I like her so much. She is very much unlike all the typical girls that I tend to meet.

  And I do like her.

  No, that’s not the right word, is it?

  It’s more like love.

  I already told her that I’m falling for her.

  But that was a lie.

  A big lie.

  I’m in love with her.

  And I think I’ve been in love with her since the first night that we spent together.

  I just haven’t told her yet. It’s too soon, right? I mean, we just met. I don’t want to freak her out. I don't want to come on too strong.

  And yet, this is how I feel. And I also know that I’m a coward for not telling her the truth about my feelings.

  I open the banking app on my phone.

  Speaking of Ellie, I still owe her the rest of the money for the week she has agreed to be mine. The week didn’t go exactly as planned, but I’m a man of my word and I always pay my debts.

  Somewhere in the back of my head, I get a nagging feeling of insecurity.

  What if she’s only spending time with me because of the money?

  I know she has never done anything like this before, but that doesn’t mean that the money isn’t alluring.

  Enticing.

  Captivating.

  What if this whole thing has been a game?

  What if it’s just pretend?

  I transfer the rest of the balance I owe her and toss my phone on the couch.

  I guess this weekend I will find out for sure. I’m not paying her any more money to be with me.

  So, if she continues to act just as interested and our connection remains strong, then what I’m feeling is real and authentic.

  And if she doesn
’t?

  My heart drops a bit.

  I guess it has all been a charade and I’ll have to pick up the broken pieces of my heart and move on with life.

  What else is there to do?

  Just then, my phone rings. My heart skips a beat at the thought that it might be Ellie.

  But when I glance down at the screen, I see that it’s Alexis.

  My ex-wife.

  Fuck.

  I don't want to pick up, but I know her too well. She’ll just keep calling.

  “What do you want?”

  “I just wanted to tell you that you're an asshole.” She starts talking almost immediately.

  This is her natural state - rushed and out of control.

  Whenever you enter a conversation with her, it feels like you've been in it for quite some time and you’re always playing catch up.

  “What is it now?” I ask.

  “I come to you for help and you just turn me away. I mean, what kind of friend does that?” she asks.

  “Alexis, it’s not my fault that your husband took off on you and Rory. He’s an asshole. But I told you that a million times. I also told you to leave him a million times. I said I would help. But do you listen? No, of course not.”

  “Whatever.”

  I don’t know what else to say.

  Alexis’ modus operandi is drama.

  She needs constant stimulation in her life to give it meaning. I didn’t understand that when we were married.

  I tried to calm her down.

  I tried to make peace.

  But that’s not what she wants.

  She wants something more exciting.

  And I’m just not the person to give her that anymore.

  “I’m busy,” I say after a moment of silence. “I have to go.”

  “Why can’t you just be there for me? Don’t I mean anything to you anymore?”

  I hang up the phone. No, you don’t, actually. That’s what I think, but it’s not something I can say out loud.

  I’m not that cruel. There was a time when I was desperately in love with Alexis.

  She was tall and beautiful and full of life. She’s still tall and beautiful, but what I used to think was her exuberance was just a desperate attempt to fill her life with drama.

  And I don't have time for that. I need my life to be calm and predictable. At least, when it comes to relationships. Well, not really relationships.

  I don't really know what I need in a relationship.

  The truth is that I haven’t been in one since I was with Alexis, and I’ve used women mainly to have a good time with.

  Sex.

  Food.

  Fun.

  More sex.

  That’s all I’ve really had since Alexis.

  Until I met Ellie.

  Chapter 1 - Ellie

  When we head back to the yacht…

  Caroline is the type who usually arrives everywhere fashionably late.

  But not this time.

  Tonight, she’s rushing me.

  Telling me to hurry up.

  Yelling at me and only making me move slower.

  Unlike other girls, I can’t even shop with other people well because I need to focus on picking out clothes and that takes a lot more resources from me than other normal girls.

  “What the hell is taking you so long?” Caroline stands in my doorway.

  Her bag is already packed and she’s wearing the dress and heels that she will be wearing out. Meanwhile, I’m still in my pajamas and slippers.

  “Listen, I told you. I need to think, okay? We still have half an hour before the cab gets here.”

  She rolls her eyes and mouths whatever. She finds me tedious and boring.

  I know that.

  She wants to pre-game, meaning that she wants to do a few shots to calm her nerves.

  I know she’s nervous.

  So am I.

  But she doesn’t believe me.

  Even though I’ve been to the yacht before and participated in the auction, that doesn’t mean that I know what I’m doing. She has been to the yacht before, too.

  This isn’t all new to her. I mean, I would never even have met Aiden if I hadn’t gone to the party with her.

  But something about that night made me braver than Caroline. While she’s always the one having one-night stands and going home with strange men and going away for weekends on a whim, she didn’t want to be auctioned off that night.

  Come to think of it, I don't really know why I actually did it except that it felt like it would be an exciting thing to do.

  You see, if you live long enough as a boring, predictable sort of girl, you end up craving something different. Something fun.

  You want the world to see you as someone else.

  Or maybe you just want to see yourself as someone else.

  It’s not all the time that you actually have the ability to surprise yourself.

  Fifteen minutes later, my bag is finally packed.

  I take a small makeup bag with me and check my hair in the mirror. I change into a pair of skinny jeans and boots and a tight-fitting, but warm jacket, which is cut in such a way that it makes my butt look amazing.

  “What the hell? You’re not wearing a dress?” Caroline asks.

  She’s dressed in a lacy, black number, which is sleeveless to boot.

  I shrug.

  “The weather is getting colder,” I say. “It’s not summer anymore.”

  Unlike most twenty-something girls in Manhattan, I’m somewhat of a wimp.

  These girls will wear stiletto heels and strapless dresses in the dead of winter when it’s like twenty degrees out and snowing. They’ll take a few shots to warm up and then leave their apartments without so much as a long sleeve shirt to keep them warm.

  No, I could never do that.

  Not in college, not now.

  I’m cold practically all the time as it is, even when it’s not February in New York City.

  And even though it’s only September and the days are still pretty warm, I’m worried that I’ll be cold on the yacht.

  Besides, I look hot. Just not dressed up. Jeans and a nice-fitting top are always my go to outfit. It makes me feel safe. Not too overexposed.

  “Ah, whatever. It’s not like there’s time to change,” Caroline says, opening the door to our apartment.

  She has already called the cab and it’s waiting patiently for us downstairs.

  “I’m so excited,” Caroline whispers to me in the cab.

  She never talks at full voice in cabs. I’m actually not sure which is ruder. I mean, it’s not like the cab driver can’t hear her even if she whispers.

  He just can’t hear her as well.

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  The cab driver drops us off at the familiar nondescript office building.

  It’s the same place where we helicoptered out of last time and we go through the motions like experts. The security guard inside nudges us toward the elevator and tells us to head to the top floor.

  This time, the roof isn’t particularly windy and I can enjoy the view a little more. New York is lit up in all directions, except for the water, which is pitch black.

  The helicopter pilot helps us with our bags and hands us earphones to wear inside. Within a few moments, we are flying high above the skyline. The skyscrapers look like models now, something that a little kid would play with.

  And the people below are practically non-existent. They’re as small as ants.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Caroline asks.

  “Yes!” I scream so that she can hear me.

  Caroline pulls out her phone and takes a few selfies. But I decline.

  I don't feel like faking a smile now.

  My stomach is in knots over the anticipation of what is about to happen.

  * * *

  Since it’s already dark outside, I know that we are flying over water but there is only blackness below us.

  Somewhere in the distance
, I see a few lights and feel the helicopter get into position.

  A few minutes later, we land.

  At the entrance to the main living room, a familiar face greets us.

  Lizbeth, the woman who greeted us before and ran the auction. She is just as tall and beautiful as I remember. She’s again holding a silver plate with glasses of champagne. The man in an impeccable tuxedo next to her helps us with our bags.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Ellie,” Lizbeth says, showing us to our stateroom. “You will not be sharing a room this time. The rooms are right next to each other though.”

  Wow, we’re moving up in the world, I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut.

  Lizbeth shows Caroline into her room and the man in the tuxedo drops off her bag. She tries to tip him, but he refuses to accept anything.

  “You are guests of Mr. Black,” Lizbeth explains. “And guests of Mr. Black do not tip. Besides, everyone working on this yacht is generously compensated.”

  I nod, slightly relieved by this fact. I suddenly remember that I did not tip the guy last time and was already feeling bad about that.

  In restaurants, I always tip twenty percent no matter what kind of service I get.

  Why?

  My aunt, my mom’s sister, got pregnant in high school and worked as a waitress at a low-rent diner all of her life.

  Unlike other places of employment, waiters are not required to be paid a minimum wage.

  Employers only have to pay them $2.13 per hour because the rest of their wages are expected to come from tips. But the problem is that if the diner or restaurant isn’t busy, then they usually don't make even minimum wage.