Banishing All the Rules (Billionaire Romance) (The A List Series Book 3)

by Rylan, Savannah

  I had to agree. “And you have no idea what it actually was that she was trying to do? To plant on him?”

  “Cora, I searched her place high and low after you told me about it. I found nothing. Whatever she is, she hid it elsewhere or is keeping it on her.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it past her to sleep with whatever the damn thing is.”

  Chase howled with laughter. “I can picture it now. Her black silk nightie, four thousand thread count Egyptian thread count sheets, and blackmail material all snuggled in her bed.”

  I snorted at the picture in my mind.

  “And what does Breccan know?”

  “Next to nothing,” I explained. “I am purposefully keeping him in the dark with most of the details, so it can go down authentically, and he can deny any involvement later.”

  “Are you going to be there?”

  I sighed. “I really want to, but I don’t know if I should.”

  “I get it. Breccan can be…intense where you’re concerned.”

  A smile stretched across my face thinking about him. “You noticed that, huh?”

  “I’m pretty sure my jaw will never forget. Or my ribs…”

  Crap. I’d forgotten what Breccan did, too wrapped up recently in remembering how he was when we were alone instead. How his hands felt on my body. How warm his lips were when we kissed. How with one taste of his mouth I could…

  “Cora!” Chase yelled, thrusting me out of the wicked thoughts running through my mind.

  “Sorry.”

  “You really do love him, don’t you? I remember being like that with Meg when we first fell in love. I couldn’t focus on anything but her, I swear.”

  His words pierced through me. In love. I was in love with Breccan. I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way in such a short amount of time, but I did. It wasn’t just how he made me feel—which was like I was a goddess to be worshiped—but it was everything. How he put me first. How he never made me feel anything but equal to him. How I knew what a great man he was—what a great father he’d be some day, because he was such a great son. I loved him with every fiber in my being. My heart soared at the realization.

  And as God as my witness, I’d make sure no one threatened the man I loved and got away with it.

  ***

  In the end, I decided to go to Breccan’s house on Thursday. I got there early, before the camera crews arrived. No one had to know anything other than I was his assistant; which would be perfectly normal for me to be there.

  I put on my best pair of dark denim jeans and a maroon blazer, pairing it with a buttery yellow blouse that rippled down the front. I squeezed into my suede ankle boots, with a nice sided heel, and I put my hair in a French braid with a tiny poof at the front. I added a sparkly headband to complete my ensemble. It wasn’t what I’d wear to an interview, but I also wouldn’t look frumpy or out of place this way either.

  Since Miranda was supposed to think no one was home, I made sure to park a block away and walk over. Breccan had also instructed the camera crew to park down the block, claiming they were doing some work on the sewer, and he didn’t want them to get towed.

  Breccan was alone when I walked in, the camera crew not due for another half hour. He didn’t waste any time, pulling me to him the moment I was close enough to touch. His hands held me firmly to him, as his mouth came down on mine. My hands circled around his neck, yearning to get closer still. His tongue traced my lips, seeking entrance, and I opened happily, allowing our tongues to twist and tangle as my body heated, need and desire filling me. My hands fisted in the hair, at the back of his neck as he nibbled and sucked, leaving my lips swollen as he trailed down the line of my jaw and neck; not stopping until he reached the hollow spot at the base. His tongue dipped inside, making me groan remembering, and needing that tongue on my clit.

  My breasts were swollen and my nipples erect. I rubbed them against his chest, seeking more. He obliged, sliding a hand around my chest and reaching under my blouse. He pushed my bra up and out of the way, before pulling the taut bud between his finger and thumb, pulling and twisting. It stung slightly, but the pain melted into pleasure as he rolled it with just enough pressure to make me ache all over. Ache for more. Ache for him.

  “Breccan, please,” I moaned, as I ground my core against him. In response, he pinched one nipple, not releasing the pressure while flicking the other one rapidly back and forth. My body shivered at the two different sensations; my pussy throbbing almost painfully. I could feel the dampness already in my panties and knew I was sopping wet for him. In that moment, I craved him more than the air I breathed.

  He lifted me and led me to the kitchen island where he put me down and spun me around so my belly was against the cool marble. With one hand still kneading my breasts, he unhooked the button on my jeans and ripped them down, along with my panties. Not a second later, he took me from behind, entering me in one fast thrust.

  I cried out at the suddenness, but the cry quickly turned to a moan as he began to pump. This was rough and quick—exactly what we both needed.

  I spread my legs a bit more and braced my hands out the island as he pumped faster. I never even tried to suppress the moans and tiny grunts that escaped, too wrapped up on how amazing his thick shaft felt inside me.

  Each time his hips thrust forward a burst of pleasure shot through my body. He hit every single pleasure point, over and over. Thrust after thrust. Until I was right there, on the precipice of an earth shattering orgasm.

  “Right there. Oh God, I’m so close. Almost. Oh…” My eyes squeezed shut as I rode the wave higher, ready to explode.

  “Rub your clit for me, baby. It’ll help send you over the edge.”

  I did as he asked, reaching down to rub the sensitive nub. Breccan pumped even harder into me, one hand leaving me nipple as he grabbed both hips and thrust me even further into him, the sound of his balls slapping against my ass echoing off the vaulted ceilings.

  I kept rubbing as he pumped faster and deeper. “Breccan! Yes!” I cried out. “Oh fuck yes. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

  I pushed up on my tiptoes to change the angle slightly, and that was all it took. “Oh fuck, I’m cumming. I’m cumming,” I cried. My body contracting around him, as my orgasm coursed through my body.

  Breccan’s fingers tightened even more, digging into my hips as he shot his seed, exploding inside me. I fell against the island, the cool marble feeling good on my cheek after getting all worked up like that.

  “Cora, that was…” Breccan kissed the center of my back before collapsing against me, snuggling his face into my hair.

  “Yeah it was!” I agreed, chuckling.

  “I think we’re going to have to do that every time you come into the house from now on.”

  I wiggled my ass, feeling him still inside me. “You get no objections from me.”

  I was just about to ask him if we wanted to take round two to the bedroom when the doorbell rang.

  “Fuck.” He stood, sliding out of me and shoving his penis back inside his pants. “They’re early.”

  I pulled up my own pants. “I’m going to get cleaned up real quick. Can you stall?”

  He spun me around and pulled me into his arms, planting a sweet, tender kiss on my lips. “Take all the time you need.” He let me go, but caught my arm just as I turned to leave. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  He didn’t let me respond as he quickly left the room to answer the door, leaving me standing there a puddle of emotions and wondering how I ever got so lucky.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cora

  Everything was set. The reporter and a cameraman were there thinking they were covering an exclusive on Breccan, as a promotion for his upcoming movie (thanks to Simon) and Chase had just texted saying Miranda left her Hollywood Hills home, headed in our direction.

  Wanting to cover all my bases, I took a risk and very quietly tipped off the cameraman that he may want to have some small cameras set up in
the living room and kitchen. He gave me a strange look, but mounted two in each room. If you didn’t look up—and I doubted Miranda would—than you wouldn’t see them at all.

  I was a ball of nerves as I awaited whatever would happen next. Breccan kept the reporter busy in the back of the house, telling them the view overlooking the Pacific would be a great place to hold a Q and A.

  The only thing I’d told him was to lead the crew into the living room when I gave him a signal, and to do it quietly as if he were nervous about someone breaking into the house.

  I sat in the foyer; my knee bouncing up and down as I peered out the window. My stomach was a ball of nerves and I’d already downed like three antacids to settle it, but to no avail.

  Twenty minutes later, Miranda’s black BMW drove by, parking in my usual spot across the street. My God, the woman will stop at nothing to take things from me!

  I ran into the dining room, hidden from view by a large wooden beam, and signaled to Breccan that it was time.

  A minute later, the front door rattled before I heard the distinctive “click” of the lock. Seriously, her B&E skills are very impressive for a psychotic bitch. And Breccan really needs new locks! She was humming something that sounded like one of the songs from Les Mis as she walked slowly around the living room. She wasn’t moving with any sort of hurry or rush, which surprised me. I’d assumed she’d want to get in and get out.

  I crouched down further and hid behind an oversized chair to make sure she couldn’t see me as she made her way into the kitchen. She opened several drawers, before finding the ‘junk drawer’ that held miscellaneous batteries, pens, stamps and such. She shuffled several things around before taking a rubber band out and wrapping it around something in her hand. Closing the drawer, she moved back to Breccan’s living room, where she lifted a painting off the wall that contained his safe.

  My jaw dropped. How did she know that was even there? She spun the dial, attempting several combinations, but was unable to open it.

  As if on cue, Breccan burst from the balcony and ever the actor conveyed shock and horror at seeing Miranda standing in his house.

  From my vantage point, no one could see me peeking out. I had to cover my mouth from squealing that this was actually working.

  “What in God’s name are you doing here, Miranda? I told you time and time again that we were done.”

  Miranda stood shell shocked at the camera’s now pointed at her, but Breccan didn’t let up.

  “How did you even get in here? I know Cora locked the doors and bolted them. Especially after the last time you broke in here and threw a vase at her.”

  The reporter chimed in. “Is this true, Miranda? Did you throw a vase at Breccan’s personal assistant?”

  Miranda blinked, her mouth slack before she plastered on her fake smile. “I… um... I was invited. My assistant told me this was a joint interview about our reunion.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You really want us to believe you’re here for an interview? You’re trying to break into my wall safe for fuck’s sake,” Breccan countered. “Why are you really here? How did you get into my house? Again?”

  To her credit, Miranda didn’t balk at the accusation. Instead, she sashayed even closer. “Breccan, really dear. I think you’re being a little over dramatic here. I have a key of course.”

  “Show it to me.”

  “What?”

  “Show. It. To. Me,” Breccan narrowed his eyes, holding out his palm.

  Miranda’s eyes swept up to the camera, before landing on Breccan once again. “Well I don’t have it with me. The door was open, silly.”

  The reporter looked like a kid in a candy shop on Christmas. Giddy to be catching all of this, but never interrupted, just waiting to see how it played out.

  Breccan’s jaw ticked, and I knew he was furious. He opened his mouth to say something else, when his eyes glanced down and a large smile stretched across his face.

  “What’s in your hand, Miranda?”

  “What?” she blinked.

  “The last time you broke in, Cora said you had something in your hands. Something you were trying to hide. And now you’re attempting to break into my safe with something in your hands. Are you trying to plant something on me? Is that what you’re doing? What is it?”

  Her grip tightened on whatever it was, “Nothing.”

  Breccan didn’t wait, he simply reached down and clasped her tiny wrist in his hand, holding it firmly as he lifted her hands toward the camera. “Open,” he demanded.

  “No, this is private.”

  “God damnit, Miranda. Open your hand now. Or I swear to God I’ll make sure nothing between us stays private. I’ll tell, every detail, to that reporter standing next to me. The one with the camera rolling.”

  A tiny whimper came from Miranda as she found herself caught in a web she couldn’t get out of. “Breccan, please,” she tried one last time.

  He didn’t bother to respond. He turned her wrist over so her palm was up and she reluctantly opened her hand.

  Inside was a piece of paper that had been wrapped around a white plastic stick with the rubber band she found earlier.

  “What the fuck is this?” Breccan demanded. “Answer me. Now.”

  Tears brimmed in Miranda’s eyes as they swept from Breccan to the reporter and back to the items in her hand.

  “Please,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

  Breccan scooped it out of her hand and handed it directly to the reporter, who stood there stoned. She sat her microphone down as she opened the items. Removing the rubber band before reading the letter quietly, she finally addressed the camera.

  “It appears that Miranda Deveraux has just broken into Breccan Laughry’s home to—according to Mr. Laughry—possibly plant some items in his locked safe. In her hands were a positive pregnancy test and test results dated two years ago that confirmed that she was indeed pregnant.”

  “What?!” Breccan bellowed, his face showing the shock we all felt. He dropped Miranda’s hands, stepping back.

  The reporter continued. “Miranda, why were you attempting to open Breccan’s safe? Were you indeed pregnant? What happened to the baby? Were you keeping this from Breccan?”

  Miranda’s eyes looked hollow and rabid, and I braced, terrified as to what she’d do next. It surprised probably everyone when she turned on her heal and raced out of the house, not stopping as the reporter and camera chased after her, still asking questions.

  I stood from my hiding spot and caught Breccan’s gaze just as I heard the squeal of tires peeling away.

  “What now?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure, but she has a whole lot of explaining to do and absolutely nothing to hold over your head any longer.” I strode up to him, wrapping my hands around his waist. “I’m sorry, Breccan. I had no idea what it was she was trying to plant. I feel awful that all of this came out. That wasn’t fair to you.”

  Breccan kissed my forehead. “Don’t feel bad. I’m okay that it came out. It would have sooner or later. And hopefully at least this way she’ll finally be out of our lives for good.”

  “You think?” I asked, hopeful.

  He cupped my face, tilting my lips toward him and placing a small, soft kiss on them. “I hope. But even if she’s not, at least we can deal with it together this time. Because no matter what, from now on you’re one hundred percent beside me. Not my assistant. Not the help. You’re my partner.”

  “What about all your rules?” I teased.

  Breccan rolled his eyes. “Woman, please. I banished those pretty much the moment I met you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Cora

  I slipped the freshly pressed jacket of my tuxedo on, checking myself in the mirror to make sure my tie was straight. The suit was custom made for me by one of the top designers in the country, and fit my like a glove.

  As great as the suit was, I could care less how I looked right now. All I wanted to see was Co
ra in the dress she’d found. I’d offered to get someone to do something custom for her, but she insisted on off the rack. I smiled, thinking about the way her cute little nose scrunched up when I told her she could have a twenty thousand dollar dress.

  “Why would I waste that money on a dress I’m going to wear one night? How about I find something off the rack instead, and we donate the money to a research center for dementia instead?”

  God, I loved that woman. Her selflessness never ceased to amaze me. The way she fought for me, the way she fiercely loved – there was no movie role on this planet that could top that. She was absolutely amazing in every possible way, and I was the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.