The First Rule: A Standalone Second Chance Romance

by Nicole S. Goodin

  Fuck. What a mess.

  “What am I going to do?”

  I don’t expect her to actually have an answer for me, I’m not sure there is an answer to this, but a problem shared is a problem halved and all that.

  “Honestly? I have no idea. But we’re taking him down, one way or another.”

  For two smart men, my brother and father have been incredibly stupid and careless on this particular front.

  I still have access to Steele industries.

  Jacob and I shared an access code when I worked for the company – our birth year – and it seems that he never thought to change it.

  I haven’t set foot inside that building, let alone these offices since the day I walked out of here, but I’m back now – albeit under the cover of darkness once again, and at stupid o’clock.

  I have no idea what I’m hoping to find, but I have to try and find something. Jacob’s life is this office, so I figure if there’s anything he’s hiding, it’ll be here.

  After hours of contemplating and scheming with Rebel, we both came to the same conclusion… If you can’t beat ‘em – join ‘em.

  Blackmail. It’s the only option Jacob has left me with. I need to find some kind of dirt on him and then use it as leverage to get Darcy out of this mess.

  I have no idea what I’m hoping to find, but I do know one thing, there are no shortage of dodgy dealings as far as my brother is concerned, so rather than it being a matter of ‘if’ I find something, it’s more like ‘when’. I just have to hope that I find something big enough to stop him in his tracks.

  I slip through the doorway from the staircase and into the deserted reception area.

  I’m confident there’s no one here, but I’m still on high alert.

  I also know there are no cameras on this floor. They’re fakes. There’s no way my father would want video evidence of some of the people that come and go from within these walls.

  I pause for a moment, listening hard, then relax when I hear nothing. There are no lights on – I’m alone.

  I don’t want to waste any time here though, I know it’s three in the morning, but Jacob is a wanker – it wouldn’t surprise me if his shit-scared assistant comes in before the sun rises to get better prepared for her day of torture.

  I skirt down the long hallway until I reach the door of his office. Right next to the door that once housed the desk I myself sat behind.

  It’s closed, but not locked. My lucky day.

  I head straight for the huge filing cabinet that sits in the corner, but my luck is tapped out, because that is locked.

  I move to the desk, sitting in his ridiculously huge, wanky chair while I rummage through stacks and stacks of documents and files.

  It’s all mundane, boring, by-the-book bullshit.

  Jacob isn’t stupid. I know he’s unlikely to leave anything incriminating just lying around for anyone to stumble across.

  I wiggle the mouse to his computer and the screen flickers to life.

  It’s password protected, but I looked over Jacob’s shoulder hundreds of times when we worked together, and I doubt he’s bothered to change it since.

  I type in our mother’s maiden name and grin to myself when it works like a charm.

  I set to work, exploring every folder I can find. He’s got several that have individual passwords, but my attempts at unlocking those fail, and I’m fairly confident those are the ones holding the good stuff.

  I growl in frustration at another failed guess.

  I’m wasting my time with this computer. I’m just about to log off when the banking app catches my eye. I wouldn’t have a shot in hell at gaining access to the company’s accounts, those codes change every few hours, and Jacob and Conrad keep the tokens on themselves at all times, but I’d be willing to bet my left nut that I could get into Jacob’s personal account.

  As of five years ago, he still used the same account we both had set up as teenagers. I know the number because other than the last digit, our account numbers were identical. I remember how ‘cute’ the lady at the bank thought she was for making matching accounts for the identical twins.

  I could kiss her now though. I type in the number and guess the correct password on my third and final attempt.

  I click on his chequing account and start scrolling through pages and pages of transactions.

  I’m not finding anything except coffees and expensive suits until a payment for ten thousand dollars catches my eye.

  There’s no reference, no name, no nothing.

  I keep scrolling, looking out for anything similar, and sure enough, I find another payment for the same amount. Again, no details. But interestingly, it’s exactly one month prior to the first payment I saw.

  I skip back another month, and then another and another, finding the same thing over and over again.

  I don’t know who this payment is going to, but it’s every single month for as far back as I can see. Ten thousand each time.

  Ten thousand a month is nothing in the scheme of Jacob’s finances, but it’s still a red flag as far as I’m concerned. It’s not as though he’d ever have anything to pay off… he doesn’t donate to charity… he has no debt.

  I scrawl a few dates down on a scrap of paper and close the app and then the computer.

  I’d kill to gain access to the filing cabinet, but I know I’ll never get into that fortress without the key… or causing substantial, and more importantly, noticeable damage, so I’m just going to have to accept defeat on that one.

  I glance at my watch, it’s just after 4am, I figure I have time to do one last check of the room before making my escape.

  I head for the bookshelf. I remember when Jacob was just a kid, he’d always hide his cash inside books.

  We even went as far as hollowing out the inside of a book once. I remember our father absolutely flipping a lid when he saw us tossing out the mangled pages of one of his first edition hard backs.

  I chuckle to myself at the memory. It feels like a lifetime ago that it was me and Jake against the world.

  I rifle through all the books, sliding them out and shaking them by the spines to check if anything is trapped within the pages.

  I’ve checked about a dozen books when I finally find something.

  A black and gold business card with ‘Elite Services’ printed on one side in shiny, fancy lettering, and the name ‘Candy’ printed on the other side.

  I roll my eyes as I turn it over in my hands a few times.

  I’d be willing to bet a million dollars that this is the card for a hooker. No one who calls themselves ‘Candy’ is doing anything other than taking their clothes off or having sex for money.

  I slide it back into the book and check the remaining few that are left on the shelf, but that’s all I find.

  I’m beyond frustrated. I’ve found nothing of any substance whatsoever.

  I’m going to have to try a different approach with this. I need someone on the inside.

  I slip out of Jacob’s office, my mind racing as I hatch a new plan.

  23

  Jacob

  The door closes behind me and I glance down the staircase to check I’m alone before hitting the green answer button on my cell and then the speaker icon so I can peruse the stock market while Mark chews my ear off.

  “Maaaccccaaa,” I drawl as I answer.

  “Where the fuck have you been, Steele? I’ve been calling.”

  He’s been calling alright. Every fucking weekend – in his defence, it’s been too long since I hit the clubs with the boys.

  “Had to take care of some bullshit at home,” I grunt.

  “Yeah, what the hell is going on with you and Darcy? Andy said you two were back together or some shit.”

  “She’s pregnant,” I reply.

  “Who? The stripper from your buck’s night?” he jokes with a laugh.

  I smirk. “Fuck no, bro, that’s not a mistake I’d make twice. Darcy. She’s knocked up. Big time.”
<
br />   He whistles long and low.

  “How’d you manage that?”

  I huff out a laugh. “I didn’t. My good-for-nothing fucking brother did, but I’ve found a way to use it to my advantage.”

  “No fucking way! Write-off Ryan… I didn’t think that fucker would have the balls.”

  “Neither did I, but it’s worked out well for me. My old man is riding me about getting her back, and now here is she. Problem solved, and now I can finally get him out from behind that desk.”

  “It’ll be your shout when that day comes.”

  I chuckle. Macca and the boys aren’t like the pompous pricks I deal with every day. I lose brain cells every time I hang out with them, but it’s worth it for the few hours of madness.

  I hear a noise from a lower level, and I crane my neck over the railing to see who’s there. All I see is an empty landing. There’s no one there. I should wrap this shit up regardless; I’ve got far more important matters that require my attention.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” I tell Macca. “Count me in for this Friday night.”

  “You fucking better show,” he replies before hanging up on me.

  I glance over the railing once more before exiting the stairwell and getting back to work.

  24

  Ryan

  I lean my back against the brick wall of the building three blocks away from Steele Industries, my breathing is so heavy, it’s like I’ve just run a marathon rather than a few hundred metres.

  I never anticipated hitting the jackpot like that. I’d been lurking around the building, waiting for Loretta to finish work. She’s the only employee from the office I decided I could trust. We were close once. She cried the day I left. We were the closest things to friends as people get within that type of environment.

  I was waiting on the stairs when I heard him speak. He was on the phone, and some type of guardian angel must have been watching over me, because not only did I get his end of the conversation, but I heard Mark’s too.

  I can’t stand Mark Vanderfits; we met him in college… the guy was a complete loser and an entitled little punk back then, and judging by what I just overheard, he doesn’t sound like he’s done an ounce of growing up since.

  But no matter how much of a complete and utter douche I think he is, I also feel like sending the guy a cheque for a hundred grand. His conversation has just given me a wildly unexpected lead.

  I slide my cell out of my pocket and dial Rebel.

  “Did you find her?” she demands by way of greeting.

  It takes me a minute to register that she’s talking about Loretta – getting her help seems so insignificant now. “No, but forget that, I got something so much better. I overheard Jacob on the phone to an old college buddy. He made some pretty incriminating comments.”

  “Details. Now,” she insists.

  I glance up and down the dimly lit street. I know there’s no chance of Jacob seeing me here. His driver picks him up outside the building and then they drive in the opposite direction, but still… that was a narrow escape. Too close for my liking, but fuck was it worth it.

  “He was telling Mark that Darcy was pregnant, and Mark made a joke about how he could have got the stripper from his buck’s night pregnant.”

  “Ew,” Rebel interrupts. “So, he fucked a stripper a week before he was meant to be getting married. Real classy guy, your brother.”

  She doesn’t even know the half of it, but why anyone would ever cheat on Darcy is beyond me.

  “That’s not all. His response was that getting a stripper pregnant ‘wouldn’t be a mistake he’d make twice’.”

  I hear her gasp. It takes a hell of a lot to shock Rebel, but it would seem that Jacob Steele has taken the honours today.

  “That seedy bastard! He got some poor bitch pregnant?”

  I shrug, even though she can’t see me, my eyes darting around the quiet street. I’m so jacked up, so full of adrenaline. This is it. This is exactly what I needed.

  “I know my brother. There is no way he would have let some random woman have his child. He would have thrown money at her until she agreed to terminate.”

  “We have to find her, but there must be hundreds of strippers in this city.”

  I wait for the penny to drop, but apparently Rebel is having an off night in the world of crime fighting.

  “You reckon that business card I found in his office the other night for the escort service might be a good place to start?” I drawl.

  “Holy shit!” she cries. “You’re wasted in hospitality; you should be a detective.”

  I don’t know if she’s being sarcastic or serious, and I also don’t give a fuck. I’m onto something here. I can feel it. I didn’t take the card with me, but the name ‘Candy’ from ‘Elite Services’ is burned into my brain.

  “I’ve gotta go. I need to get the hell out of here and then get on Google and find this chick.”

  “You know, I was thinking of something else that you could do… and this just makes me think it’d be even more of a good idea.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I know it’s highly illegal, but you know, so is kidnapping and blackmail, so I figure it’s fair game at this point.”

  “Continue.”

  “You should call Jacob’s doctor’s office and get them to send you out his medical records. You sound just like him… you know how to answer all his personal questions… It would be child’s play.”

  I contemplate her suggestion. I don’t know what I’d need his medical records for, but it couldn’t hurt. Where Jacob is concerned, the more information the better.

  “I could probably do that.”

  “Create a new email account that sounds legit and get them emailed over. I don’t know if they’ll be of any use, but if he’s out there knocking up hookers and fucking strippers, he’s probably sleeping with half the woman around here… maybe he’ll have caught something we can have a real laugh about, if nothing else.”

  I chuckle. Trust Rebel to jump straight to thinking about potential STDs.

  “I’ll get on it,” I promise her.

  “Back to work, detective.”

  I kill the call and jump straight onto Google. I should be making a move around the block, back to my car, but I need to do this now – I’m too jumpy to wait.

  If this search turns up nothing, I’ll be pissed, but it won’t stop me – I’d be willing to bet my life savings on the fact that Rusty could find this chick Candy if I can’t, but I’d prefer to keep him out of this if it’s possible.

  I tap the words into the search bar and wait as a bunch of results come up on the screen.

  I shake my head in disbelief at the millions of possibilities.

  Turns out ‘Candy’ isn’t exactly an exclusive name in that industry. Go figure.

  I try again, this time narrowing it to within the local range and only using ‘Elite Services’ as a search.

  I click the first link that comes up, but it doesn’t look right, the branding is off. I never understood branding until I opened a business with the most ‘on trend’ woman in the world. It was all colour schemes, fonts, logos and layouts. And that was just the website.

  Apparently, my new skills have come in handy now. The business card I found in Jacob’s office was black and gold and there was a small gold crown in the corner, this site is pink and white.

  Wrong.

  I close it down and go to the next in the list. That one is mostly black, but with red writing.

  Still wrong.

  I try the next one, and my heart feels like it’s caught in my throat when I see the gold crown logo.

  This is it.

  There’s next to no information on the site, it’s all very ‘high end’ feeling, but there is a number. I hit call and start pacing back and forth along the brick wall as it connects and then begins to ring.

  “Elite Services, Monica speaking.”

  I freeze up, I don’t know what the fuck to say here. I
have no idea how old this card is, or if Candy is even still working there.

  “Are you there?” Monica asks.

  “Hey, yeah, I’m here, sorry.”

  “No need to be nervous, darlin’, how can I help you today?”

  Great. Now she thinks I’m nervous to book a professional to get my dick wet. Excellent. I pinch the bridge of my nose.

  “I ah, I was just ringing to see if you had a woman named Candy working there… I ah…” I shake my head at myself.

  “We sure do. Miss Candy is one of our finest.”

  My heart starts thumping heavily again. She’s there. I’m so close I can almost smell it.

  “Could I speak to her by any chance? Or I could leave my number with you for her to call me. It’s sort of urgent…”

  Monica giggles softly, if not a little forced. “Unfortunately, that’s not how we do things around here. Privacy for our clients, and our girls, is of the utmost importance to us. But I can help you get all booked in for an appointment if you’d like?”

  I pause my pacing of the sidewalk. Booking an appointment is absolutely not what I had in mind, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

  “Okay.”

  “She’s actually just had a cancellation. How does Friday at seven work for you?”

  I blink once, twice, three times. “Sure.”

  I give her my name, get the address – about an hour’s drive – and hang up.

  Well fuck.

  I guess I just made a booking with a hooker. This should be interesting.

  I pull into the car park and kill the engine. I’m a little early, but when Rebel started calling out after me to ‘enjoy my hooker’, I bailed from the restaurant quicker than I’d planned to.