Rules of Engagement

by Lily White

  Surprise burst out of me in the form of a coughing fit, my face turning red until I could drag oxygen in my lungs once again. “You can’t say things like that, Donovan. It’s against your rules.”

  Which is precisely why I made the rules. I can’t give you anything beyond the physical, Mia. Can’t give you anything that means something. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to and that’s why I want us both dedicated to these rules. We can’t be together. Not like this. Not in any way that is normal or healthy.

  But in other ways, we could. He didn’t need to actually speak or sign the words for me to hear them. I knew on instinct that, although Donovan was shutting the door on any kind of normal relationship, he was opening another kind of door. Unfortunately, I didn’t know what that door would lead to.

  “I’ll try not to let you bend me over a desk,” I offered, my voice tight with anger. How was it my fault that he thought of me that way? It wasn’t that the attention was unappreciated - or even craved. But if this attraction was a two way street, why was I the person being blamed?

  His eyes narrowed, his palm slapping against the surface of his desk to grab my attention. Scowling back at a man who was scowling at me, I folded my arms over my chest and wondered how I’d gotten myself into this mess.

  Why are you so scared all the time? Why don’t you like being touched?

  “Why do you keep asking me that?” I blurt out. “Why does it even matter?”

  Because you let me touch you.

  I don’t know how he did it. Maybe it was the force of his movement or the quickness of the way his hands slid around each other to convey his thoughts, but it wasn’t hard to pick up on the fact that he’d yelled right back at me in response to my question.

  We both froze in response to that observation, our gazes locked in battle and desire. If he hopped over the desk right at that moment and pulled the clothes from my body, I wasn’t sure I’d stop him. I couldn’t help myself with him. What he’d shown me last night was that he knew how to push all the right buttons to help me crawl out of my shell. And it was hard not to want somebody like that in my life, especially when everybody else made me want to crawl deeper inside so that I could hide from the world.

  I want to know why you let me touch you, he signed, this time slower and more cautious.

  “I’d like to know the answer to that myself, Donovan, but openly talking about it might break one of your new rules.”

  His expression softened at the admission, regret flashing behind his blue eyes. I wish things were different. But I’m in a place in life where wanting you will only complicate me. I can’t give you normal because I’m not normal. I haven’t been normal since…

  He didn’t finish the thought, his hands dropping to the surface of his desk and his eyes darting away. Tracking his gaze, I noticed that he now stared at that lonely framed photograph on his wall, the only personal touch in the entire room. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the woman in the picture meant something to him, and I was inwardly making the connection between what Jackson had told me about Donovan’s last relationship and the photo. However things had ended between him and the woman had done something to him, and I didn’t want to make assumptions, but I was beginning to believe that woman had everything to do with why he didn’t talk.

  What could have gone so wrong that it rendered a man silent for the rest of his life? What kind of pain had that woman caused? It was stupid of me to jump to the conclusion that the two issues were related, but it was the only answer that made sense. A mistake would have to be extreme for a man to choose not to speak because of it, so extreme, in fact, that people would react badly if that mistake were to be repeated. With my brain so caught up trying to remember exactly what Jackson had said, I didn’t think to consider the consequences of asking my next question.

  “Is she the reason you don’t talk?”

  Donovan’s head snapped in my direction, anger rolling behind his eyes. Go back to work, Mia.

  “Donovan…”

  It’s best if we avoid each other as much as possible. What happened last night can’t happen again. That’s the point of this conversation. From now on we’re employee and employer. That’s it.

  The screen behind his head shut off, his eyes moving to stare out his window much like they’d done the day he interviewed me.

  I was being dismissed.

  Again.

  But this time it drove a spike of pain through my heart for all the wrong reasons.

  Standing from my seat, I crossed his office and had my hand on the doorknob. A thought stopped me in place, one that I let roll off my tongue even if it did reveal too much about the current state of my life. But I was pissed off and didn’t care. Donovan thought he had a right to pry into the personal details of my life, but as soon as I asked a question in return, I was being booted from his office while he quickly reconstructed all the walls around himself that kept him safely out of reach. If he could have walls, then so could I, and neither of us would be allowed to cross the other’s again.

  Turning to Donovan, I didn’t care that he refused to look at me. The only thing I wanted was for him to hear what I had to say.

  “I’m sick of rules. I’m sick of people telling me what I can and can’t do. I’m sick of being expected to abide by those rules regardless of whether I enjoy playing these games or not. I won’t take it from you or from that website. Not anymore. So I’m setting my own damn rule, one that you’ll have to live by if you want me to continue working in this office.”

  His gaze snapped to mine again, his eyebrows sliding up his head like I’d said something suspicious or unexpected. Not really giving much of a damn about his reaction, I spit out my last words so I could storm from his office and forget he existed.

  “Rule Number One: No more jokes. No more comments. No more questions. No more being a complete dick to me when it amuses you. And no more games!”

  Opening the door, I slammed it shut, my back leaning against it as I clenched my eyes shut and counted to ten in an effort to calm down. When I opened them again, I wanted to scream to find Jackson staring back at me with a bag of fast food gripped in his hand.

  “I told you to stay away from him, Mia.”

  I was at the end of my rope, every thread fraying as anger swelled inside me to mix with the heartache, indignation and confusion. “Yeah? Well, how in the hell am I supposed to do that when he’s my boss?”

  Jackson flinched in response to my voice, his eyes searching mine because he was used to timid Mia, the Mia they were all so curious about but wouldn’t allow anywhere near their secrets. Screw that Mia. I was now my own Mia. And I wouldn’t let myself be held down by the memories of my domineering father, or the stupid, bullshit rules given to me by Dark Realities or Donovan Stone. And if Jackson didn’t like it, he could take it up with the heartless bastard behind the door that thought he could tell me what to do in both my professional and my personal life. It wasn’t my fault he was attracted to me. It wasn’t my fault he had fantasies of what he wanted to do to me in this office. And it certainly wasn’t my fault he was so screwed up in the head that he didn’t trust himself not to act on that attraction or those fantasies.

  They could all fuck off as far as I was concerned. The only thing I needed from any of them was a paycheck.

  When Jackson didn’t immediately respond, I laughed once before saying, “So once you’re done figuring out how I’m supposed to work with someone I have to avoid, you let me know. Until then, I’ll be doing what I was hired to do and get back to work cleaning up your mess.” Taking a few steps away from the door, I stopped and turned back to him. “And the next time you want to place bets on me, you might as well let me know so I have the chance to win some of the cash myself!”

  His face paled, his eyes wide as he stood frozen in place watching me.

  Storming around him, I took a seat at my desk and got back to paperwork and file folders. But within a few minutes, my tablet beeped from
the surface of my desk.

  Groaning, I wondered what Donovan had to say now and almost chucked the tablet across the office when I read his message. It would have been satisfying to see it shatter into a million teeny tiny pieces.

  Technically, you had five rules. Not one. And I’ll be sure to add them to the list.

  Setting the tablet down…carefully…I ignored him and focused on the reason I was in this hellhole in the first place.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Rule No. 2: Try not to be so intriguing. I can’t help myself. I’m always thinking about why you have so many secrets.

  What are your thoughts on take out Chinese food, ice cream, and ugly cry movies? I have a selection I can bring over for some girl time.

  Reading Rachel’s message put a smile on my face after a long day doing my best to avoid and ignore both Donovan and Jackson. After my less than polite yelling at a point when I’d lost the ability to keep my cool, both men had tread carefully when requesting actual work tasks from me the remainder of the day. At five sharp, I’d left the office and made the typical sprint to my car. Sprinting again when I arrived home, I’d locked up tight and jumped in the shower. My plans for that night had been to read a book, or do something equally as relaxing, and I’d promised myself that I would ignore my phone.

  Thankfully, I broke that promise the first time it buzzed over the surface of my kitchen counter. A night with Rachel would be a good distraction from everything else that was going on - even if I knew she would drown me in questions about Donovan.

  But the truth was that I had questions about Donovan myself, and maybe another woman’s perspective would be helpful.

  I’ll be waiting for you. I typed back.

  Setting the phone down, I straightened up the apartment as much as possible before she arrived. Rachel must have assumed I would say yes because she was knocking on my door within minutes, and she would have taken much longer had she waited to order the food and pick it up.

  Unbolting four deadlocks and the chain, I opened the door just enough to let her squeeze through, then locked it tight again once she was inside.

  She arched a delicate red eyebrow at me. “Are you expecting a home invasion tonight or a serial killer? What’s up with all the locks?”

  “Just being cautious,” I answered, attempting to sound as nonchalant as I could.

  Setting the food down, she eyed me warily. Rachel had known me since we were young and she, better than anyone else, could tell when I was upset or I was lying. Deciding not to continue digging into the reason for the numerous locks, she dug into the bag and pulled out several small containers of food. She also unpacked the tub of ice cream and stowed it in the freezer.

  “I brought three movies,” she announced while pulling plates from my cabinet. Since she’d made herself at home, I took a seat on one of the stools and watched her dish up the food onto two plates. “Two are sappy, sentimental romances and one is a romantic comedy. I didn’t know whether you would feel like laughing or crying tonight, but judging by the shabby robe and puffy eyes, I’d say you’ve cried enough in the past day. I guess that means we’re stuck with the comedy.”

  Her eyes lifted to mine as she settled a plate on the counter in front of me. “So, are you going to spill about what’s going on, or do I need to play twenty questions to get it out of you?”

  One of my problems wasn’t something I could talk about. Although Rachel loved me to death and wouldn’t judge me too harshly for signing up with Dark Realities, she would still question my sanity and most likely lecture me about the mistake for the rest of my life. The other problem, however, was something I could talk about, and hopefully Rachel would know exactly what I should do.

  “It’s Donovan,” I admitted, not missing the dreamy look in her eye at the mention of my frustratingly annoying new boss.

  Her expression brightened at his name, her shoulders relaxing a bit as she dug silverware out of my drawer. Tossing me a fork, she answered, “Ah, yes. Donovan Stone. Why didn’t you tell me he was the man interviewing you that day? And why do you work in such a shitty part of town if you’re working for him? His main office is located in the center of the city.”

  “It’s a satellite office,” I said around a bite of fried rice. “Donovan doesn’t like people.”

  “Is that why you two get along so well?”

  Glancing up at her, I recognized the knowing smirk pulling at her lips. It took effort to swallow the food with her looking at me like that. “We don’t get along.”

  A burst of laughter shook her shoulders. “If you say so, Mia, but you let him touch you.” Her brow arched. “You won’t even let me touch you without having a panic attack, and yet you were holding his hand across the table. If you ask me, that means you two are definitely getting along.”

  Shaking my head, I averted my eyes and tried to focus on the food in front of me, but Rachel wasn’t letting the subject go. “Since you’re not being forthcoming, I’m going to attempt to piece this puzzle together myself. And if I’m right about what I think happened, I’m going to be killing a certain gorgeous bachelor tomorrow.”

  Without even tasting the food I’d shoved in my mouth, I curled my body tighter, but eventually sighed and met her eyes again.

  “Did you sleep with him?”

  “No.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but eventually she pretended to believe me. “You need to be careful with him, Mia. From what I know of Donovan Stone, every woman wants him, but everybody who is anybody knows to avoid him as much as possible. There’s something broken about that man and don’t you think it’s weird he refuses to talk? I didn’t believe the rumors at first, but after meeting him last night, I was floored. From what I’ve heard, he hasn’t spoken in three years! I know he’s some kind of software genius, and maybe that level of intelligence is what messes with his head, but you don’t need that kind of complication in your life. So, did you sleep with him, or not?”

  “No,” I answered, putting a little strength to my voice so she would believe me. “We kissed, but then things got weird and he walked away from me. I thought he would fire me when I walked into the office this morning, but the only thing that happened was his best friend warned me away from him, and then Donovan gave me a set of rules we have to abide by while working together.”

  Her head tilted at the mention of rules, her lips moving as she finished chewing. “Rules? What kind of rules?”

  Dropping the fork on the plate, I sat back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. “The kind that make me at fault for everything happening between us.”

  Her mouth rounded with surprise. “You? I’m sorry, Mia, but for as long as I’ve known you, not once have you initiated anything with a man. How are you responsible?”

  I shrugged, suddenly feeling exhausted by the entire thing. “I don’t know. Because I’m so intriguing that he can’t stop thinking about me. Because I make him want to feel again, whatever the hell that means. And because he’s not in a place where he can offer me anything emotional…just physical.”

  “Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me. Are you sure he’s not insane? It would explain a lot. Losing your girlfriend the way he did would drive any person to the edge of sanity.”

  My head snapped up. “You know about his girlfriend?”

  “Um, yes,” she answered, dragging out the last word. “It was the talk of the town when it happened. I’m surprised you don’t know.”

  Staring at her, I waited impatiently for her to continue. Finally getting the silent hint, she blew out a breath and lowered her voice as if there were somebody else around who would hear us gossiping.

  “I only know what I heard from business associates and read in the news, but apparently Donovan’s girlfriend was shot and killed right in front of him. Poor thing lay on a sidewalk bleeding out while Donovan held her and screamed for help. Rumor is he hasn’t talked since that night, but nobody knows why. Who knows? Maybe he snapped and he’s crazier than we
all realize.”

  My heart hurt, my chest constricting as I tried to imagine the horror Donovan had faced. Jackson said his past relationship ended horribly, but I’d assumed it was a bad break up or something similar. I never would have guessed he’d watched his girlfriend die right in front of him. What little food I had in my stomach churned until it was a lump in my belly, tears wetting my eyes that I didn’t want Rachel to see. Excusing myself to the bathroom, I hid for a few minutes to pull myself back together. It wasn’t clear why I’d had such a visceral reaction to hearing the story, but now that I knew what he went through, I could excuse how distant and cold he could be. It also explained why Jackson had warned me away.

  With the amount of pain Donovan carried, it made my past problems with my father pale in comparison.

  “Hey, Mia,” Rachel’s voice chirped from the kitchen, the sound carrying easily because my apartment was so small. “Your boyfriend is texting,” she announced in a sing-song voice. “I think he’s changed his mind about those rules! Can I text him back for you?”

  My boyfriend? Donovan texted me? “No!”

  Bursting from the bathroom, I bounded through the apartment, snatched the phone from Mia’s hand, read the message and froze.

  “Mia, what’s wrong? All the color just drained from your face. Mia?”

  The text wasn’t from Donovan. Or was it?

  Have you discovered my secret, Mia? Is that why you said what you said today? I haven’t stopped thinking about you since seeing you last.

  It was the same thread from the night before, the same lack of identification. Just the message without any way of knowing who sent it.

  “Mia? You’re scaring me. Why aren’t you answering me?”

  I’d spoken to my stalker. I knew the man who was intentionally scaring me, the man who had stood in my bedroom watching me while I slept. What had I said today that mentioned anything about secrets?

  Blinking tears from my eyes, I walked to my couch and sunk down on the cushion, carefully setting the phone on the table in front of me so that the message glared up at me from the glowing screen.