Rules of Engagement

by Lily White

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I slapped my hand over my lips to keep more from pouring out. Donovan’s expression chilled, his eyes pinning mine in place as his lips pulled into a thin line.

  Shit. Crap. Damn.

  I was going to be fired. There was no question about it.

  He stared at me like I’d just run over his puppy, backed up, and did it all over again, the entire time laughing maniacally while telling him he’s next. Several seconds passed - long second, seconds that ticked into eternity - but eventually he did something that nearly knocked me out of my chair.

  Donovan Stone smiled. An actual smile. Not as brilliant as the one in the photo, more suave and chilling, but it was still a smile with straight white teeth and the hint of humor curling at the corners.

  There she is, he signed. I knew there was more to you than met the eye. I was just wondering how much bullying it would take to bring it out. You can leave now. Our meeting is over.

  My jaw dropped open, only closing again when the chaos inside my head settled enough to understand he’d wanted me to lose my cool. “What? I thought you needed something from me.”

  Standing from his perch, he rounded the corner of his desk to take a seat in his large leather chair. After kicking his feet up on the desk, he snatched the tablet from the surface and typed. I believe you have some filing calling your name. Or were you hoping to get fired on your third day?

  He didn’t bother to look at me as my tablet beeped and his message came through. Once again, I’d been dismissed.

  Shaking my head, my fingers clenched over the tablet, the blood rushing from the tips so that the skin turned white. But rather than falling for his bullshit again, I stood from my seat and stalked to the door. Closing it quietly when all I wanted to do was slam it shut, I moved to my desk and groaned to hear another beep.

  Are you all packed up to go? I’ll escort you out myself.

  My heart practically stopped beating to see the message. Go? Did Donovan just fire me? Shaking my head in denial of what I was reading, my eyes shot to his closed door, my mind playing over everything I’d just said to him. I’d messed up by admitting I knew he could talk, but he hadn’t seemed angry. He’d smiled. He’d dismissed me as he normally does. He’d-His door opened behind me. Spinning to hear the noise, I locked eyes with his glacial stare, watched as he leaned against his doorframe, tucked his hands in his pockets and faced me with a bitterly cold expression that wasn’t angry, but wasn’t friendly either. Several long seconds passed as we stared at each other, but eventually he pulled those elegant hands from his pockets and signed, I thought I told you to pack.

  Panic gripped me, my thoughts scattering in every direction possible. How would I pay my bills next month? Would I have to return to my parents and admit I was a failure? Or would I just sleep in a cardboard box while some creepy stalker watched me from the shadows? What would Rachel say when she learned I lost a crappy job because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut? How would I look anybody in the eye when all my mistakes were forced into the open to reveal that I’d made horrible decisions that led -

  We have a client meeting in an hour. I strongly suggest you help me gather the necessary materials in order to make a timely appearance.

  His lips pulled into a smirk, his eyes studying me as the meaning of what he’d said fell into place. Panic morphed into understanding. Understanding narrowed my eyes.

  “You did that on purpose! You let me think you were firing me for calling you out on your issues!”

  He grinned again before turning around to walk into his office. Neglecting to close his door, he was silent, a beep sounding on my tablet sent by the bastard on the opposite side of the wall.

  Hurry, Ms. Jennings. I’d hate to have to scold you for making me late to a presentation.

  He was going to be later than he realized…especially after I was done murdering him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Not knowing specifically what I was supposed to pack, I pulled my purse from the desk drawer, shoved my newly constructed piles of records to the side and sent off a message to Donovan in response to his.

  If you want to be on time, I’ll need further instruction on what, exactly, you want packed.

  The tablet was silent for only a few seconds. In the products section of the storage room, you’ll find a black case containing the tablets I’ll need to communicate with the clients, as well as a projector, laptop and wireless remote in another black case. I’ll do you the favor of packing the presentation software myself.

  My eyes rolled so far back in my head, I was looking at the interior of my skull.

  Storage room. I glanced around looking for a door I must have missed during my time here and only saw the ones leading to the front lobby and Donovan’s office.

  Not wanting to further delay Donovan to his presentation, I typed out another question. Where is the storage room?

  His response beeped back. Really, Ms. Jennings, you should be more familiar with the office by now. It’s been three days. I expect more of an administrative assistant.

  As usual, his response didn’t help. The man wanted me to beg and plead for every small crumb of information he’d be willing to give me.

  I’ll need more assistance than that.

  Another minute passed. You’re in the storage room.

  Oh, well, that made it perfectly clear. Spinning my chair around, I scanned the room looking for the black cases. Several were piled up in the corner where all the spare computer parts were stored. Standing from my seat, I found the two Donovan had mentioned and dragged them to sit by the lobby door. As soon as I was done, Donovan came out of his office with his suit jacket on, looking even more powerful than he normally did.

  He opened the lobby door, waiting for me to pick up the two heavy cases and pass through. The door slammed behind us as we both stepped into the lobby and I turned to see his hands were free while I struggled to carry the equipment. “I thought you said you were packing the software to bring with us.”

  Slipping his hand in his pocket, he extracted a zip drive, waving it around just enough to show me how very light and portable it was, unlike the cases. A complaint was balanced over the tip of my tongue, ready and waiting. Swallowing it down, I shook my head and lifted the cases again, my arms stretched down the length of the legs from the weight.

  Donovan stepped around me, opened the door and stood back as I walked through. Once I’d walked the length of the hall and hit the first step of the stairs, I lost my strength and dropped the cases to the ground before I found myself tumbling down the stairs instead of walking.

  Brushing the hair away from my face that was plastered to the perspiration beading at my temples, I glanced at Donovan to see him staring at me, intent to find out what I planned to do about the stairs.

  “I can’t carry these down. They’re too heavy. Can you please help me?”

  The grin that had been twitching at his lips finally widened into a smile, his hands moving fluidly as he signed his response. I never asked you to carry the cases. Only to pack them.

  “What? Are you serious?”

  His shoulders shook with soft laughter. The movement was barely noticeable, but I noticed everything there was about Donovan. It was hard not to. He set off every survival alarm inside me, my instincts kicking in as my senses homed in on every small movement, every bit of distance he slowly closed between us, the smell of him, the way the corners of his lips curled down with disapproval, only to turn up again after making a comment that drove me crazy. It wasn’t visceral fear that Donovan elicited in the people around him. They didn’t worry that he’d suddenly strike out with a weapon or his fist. No. They worried that he’d slice them open with nothing more than an icy glare or a cutting remark.

  Rather than answering me, he darted his eyes over my shoulder, the humor in his expression gone as soon as he locked his gaze on another person.

  “Good morning, Mr. Stone.”

  Turning toward the older m
an with short silver hair and a face that was friendly, yet professional, I smiled as he inclined his head in my direction, introducing himself with a deep voice that had a hint of a drawl. “Good morning, ma’am, I’m Carl, Mr. Stone’s driver.”

  “Mia Jennings,” I answered, admiring the light green of his eyes.

  “I’ll help you with those bags, if you don’t mind.”

  Stepping aside, I let Carl take the bags, and within minutes, Donovan and I were tucked in the back of some sleek, luxurious car that I couldn’t identify much less afford. Opaque privacy glass separated us from the driver and a question caught in my throat begging to be asked.

  “Why did you let me carry those bags if you knew Carl was coming to get them?”

  My eyes were directed at the street outside the window, but I could see Donovan’s reflection on the glass. He twisted in my direction. It took a few seconds for me to remember I needed to look at him to see his answer.

  Begrudgingly, I turned.

  You seemed intent on carrying them. I didn’t want to get in your way.

  My eye ticked with irritation. “You could have said something.”

  I hated his smirk, hated it so much because I didn’t know whether I wanted to wipe it away with a swift slap, or lock my lips against it to let the flavor of his cruelty seep inside my mouth.

  I don’t speak, remember? His brow arched, a signature expression I would always relate to him. So much so that I had to wonder if that singular facial muscle wasn’t the most well developed in his body. Casting a quick glance down at shoulders that seemed to eat the space in the car and a chest that was tight and strong beneath the crisp material of his shirt, I realized it wasn’t the most developed of his physique, not by a long shot.

  You wouldn’t look at me, so how was I supposed to tell you my driver would take the cases down to the car?

  That wasn’t entirely true. I’d looked at him when asking about the software. But rather than getting into the back and forth argument I now understood he loved more than anything, I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my face toward the window to watch the sidewalks full of people.

  The rest of the drive was spent in silence as I watched the city fly past. Donovan didn’t need to speak in order to make his presence known. His scent filled the car, his heat somehow warming my body even though I wasn’t cramped beside him. He was the type of man that consumed the space around him, the type that was always a presence at your back, watching, recording, judging. Perhaps my silence was the only thing that saved me from more of the snide remarks and aggravating observations he’d mastered.

  Pulling up to a building that took up a city block, I stepped from the car once it had stopped and craned my neck to look up at a structure so tall, its top floors were obscured by the fog that hadn’t yet let the sun shine down onto the streets below. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around my body, my nerves on edge as my eyes shot down the sidewalks in search of anybody who might be watching. Seeing nobody that lingered rather than scuttling off to whatever job or appointment they had, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that somebody was there, that pictures were being taken to be plastered on a website I could no longer access. I didn’t like waiting so long for Carl to grab the cases from the trunk and for Donovan to step up beside me to escort me inside.

  Rather than let me walk on my own, he made a point to reach out and touch the small of my back, the contact sending chills up my spine but not from fear or dislike. At some point I would have to admit to myself that, for once in many years, I actually welcomed the touch - had begun to crave it without my mind understanding the reaction of my body.

  His hand dropped from my back as we crossed the lobby, his stride much longer than mine and more powerful. He owned the lobby simply because he existed inside it, and as we approached the reception desk on the far side, I saw in the lovely brunette’s eyes that he owned her just as easily.

  Not bothering to give me even a fleeting glance, she locked her stare on Donovan, licked her lips and smiled so wide that a dentist could have performed work on every tooth without the need of asking that she stretch wider.

  “Mr. Stone,” she purred, “As always, it’s good to see you.” Her perfectly manicured hand reached to hit a button, her lips rounding and stretching over her words as she announced our arrival.

  “Donovan Stone has arrived. Are you ready for him?”

  Standing at my side, Donovan didn’t say a word - not like I expected him to - but even in his silence he was loud, commanding.

  Her brown eyes flicked up to him, an invitation in the way they perused his body, in the set of her lips as she angled her head in a coquettish manner, smiling again to tell him whoever waited was ready for him on the top floor.

  My stomach dropped on the elevator ride up, the car moving like a shuttle as it climbed. Donovan didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he made no indication of it. The elevator binged as we reached the top floor, the doors parting to reveal two men standing on the opposite side, one tall and trim, the other short and pudgy. Both were older than us by several decades and wealth oozed from their pores as they eyed me with appreciation before turning their hawk-like stares on the man they were eager to see.

  “Please tell me you’ve perfected the software, Donovan. I’m anxious to get this money train rolling before some other intelligent bastard sneaks in to take the lead in this new market.”

  Inclining his head, Donovan waited for me to exit the elevator before stepping out behind me, the three men walking quickly in route to a large conference room that was encased in glass walls and floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city below. I damn near jumped out of my skin when Carl stepped up beside me to set the cases on the ground at my feet, a smile of apology stretching the lines of his face when he noticed my surprise. Quietly he left, and I stood waiting as Donovan ignored the cases to walk to the head of the table.

  His eyes found mine as he took his place. It was always electric, that observant gaze, always his phantom fingers reaching out to touch me in intimate places. I shivered beneath it, wondering if this was why I could handle his actual touch when I stilled at the idea of someone else laying their hand on my arm, or any such similar contact.

  I must have stood there transfixed without realizing it. Donovan’s lips twitched with humor and I startled to life, realizing quickly that every man in the room was staring at me with expectation behind their eyes. Unsure what to do, I shifted my weight between my feet, my gaze seeking Donovan’s in hopes that he would tell me what to do. He simply looked down at the cases and back to me.

  Oh! Crap. He needed to be able to actually speak to his clients if he wanted this meeting to progress. Scrambling to get everything moving, I lifted one of the cases to a nearby table and was relieved to find it was the case containing the tablets. Passing them out to the members of the meeting, I smiled when appropriate and slunk off to empty the other case while Donovan spoke to his clients. Every so often, the tablet I had leftover would light up with the conversation occurring silently.

  After lifting and opening the other case, I stared down at equipment that was beyond my understanding. Twisting around, I sought out my boss, noticing his eyes were on me even as his thumbs flew over the surface of his tablet. The other men were engrossed in whatever he was typing.

  Panic must have flashed in my eyes, the single word HELP imprinting itself on my forehead. Donovan, thankfully, lifted a finger to ask for a moment, walked to me and took the case to set up the equipment himself. I watched and took mental notes, but I would need to be trained if he wanted me to do this for him in the future.

  Once Donovan was finished, he slipped the Zip drive from his pocket and loaded the presentation onto his laptop, the screen behind him coming to life as the title of the presentation stole the breath from my lungs.

  Reality Gaming - Taking Fantasy Entertainment Out of Computers and Onto the Streets.

  My knees weakened for a split second and I had to place my palm
against the table at my side to keep from stumbling over. Scanning the title again, I slid my gaze to Donovan to find that, like always, he was watching me intently. Except this time, there was a glimmer of hidden knowledge that made me question everything about the present circumstances of my life.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It’s often said that life is unfair, that despite the pretty pictures we paint in our head of the world around us, there are secret channels and hidden corners that will make themselves known in moments of deep introspection or in epiphanies that come on as unexpected as a semi running you down on a dirt road. Sometimes these secrets are welcoming nuances, little tidbits of information that confirm your suspicions or correlate to some truth you’ve believed you’ve known for a long time. But sometimes, those secrets are shrouded in shadow, a glimpse of a stranger’s outline or a glimmer of light within darkness that sharpens the senses and makes you question yourself and your reality. They can be moments when the truth you didn’t want to see runs up to slap you in the face, but before you can get a handle on it, scampers off again just out of reach, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath the weight of the whispers it left behind.

  That was the type of moment I was experiencing after seeing the title of the project Donovan was presenting, a glimpse into an idea that was unsettling in its familiarity. But without seeing any clear evidence that Donovan’s project had anything to do with another present factor in my life, I couldn’t react without questioning myself, without thinking that, maybe, I was connecting two dots that had no correlation to each other.

  Just because Donovan was now explaining his idea for games that took place in a person’s actual life instead of on a computer screen didn’t mean he had anything to do with Dark Realities, but still, the seed had been planted in the back of my thoughts, roots spreading down while the stems and leaves took shape.

  From my tablet, I followed along with the presentation being given, my brain registering the sounds of approval grunted from the ten investors seated around the table. Although Donovan was completely silent, he still held his clients in thrall, still weaved a web around the thoughts and wallets of the men who hoped to bring his reality games to life.