The Rules Series

by LaShawn Vasser

  She watched her father take his last breaths. Twenty minutes after he’d stopped moving, Gina got up, stepped over her father’s body, then picked up the phone on the accent table to call one of their servants.

  “Can you please bring the car around? I have some shopping I need to do.” Without a backward glance, she walked out of the room.

  Chapter 1

  The Day of the Funeral of Chang Lee-Xiou

  My eyes were closed tight. If it had been left up to me I would have spent the next forty-nine days holed up in this room; not because I was sad or melancholy, no, it’s because I had to pretend to be. That was going to be exhausting. As a matter of fact, I’d better start practicing some kind of sorrowful expressions for all the well-wishers. There were sure to be plenty of people to greet, along with the many business partners and friends of my father’s to thank for their condolences. After all, today was his funeral.

  I could care less. Therein lies my problem. Pretending like I actually gave a damn when I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything actually. I’d been walking around like a zombie going through the motions. I was completely numb, and the warm body lying next to me did absolutely nothing to fix it. The only thing he gave me was a headache. His snoring was going to drive me insane.

  I was cocooned underneath a mountain of comforters, but they couldn’t keep what sounded like the rumble of a 10.5 magnitude earthquake from my ears. Was he serious with all that noise? Gooooooood, he needed a doctor for that. What was I thinking bringing him here? Sleeping with your lawyer is never a good idea. Julian Hargrove was tall, dark, and handsome but lousy in bed.

  I had hoped a little sex would thaw out the chill in my body. Sadly, it hadn’t, and I used too much energy that could have been better spent on the treadmill. The only reason I hadn’t kicked Julian out last night was because the Paparazzi had been camped outside my gates. It was better for him to leave when the sun was up than to have left in the wee hours of the morning. Tradition dictated, no sex for the next forty-nine days, and I needed to be seen as a delicate little flower mourning the loss of my father. The mere thought of that was laughable.

  Julian threw his heavy leg over mine. He is not serious. He has to go. I removed my leg from underneath his and shook him on the shoulder to wake him.

  “Wake up.”

  Groggily, he cracked open one eye and smiled. His voice rumbled, still husky from sleep. “Ready for round two already?”

  I rolled over laughing and reached for my robe. “Your attempt at humor is amusing.”

  Julian’s smile faltered, and his face was frozen somewhere between a smirk and a frown. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

  “You were if you thought there was anything memorable about last night or that I would be remotely interested in repeating it again.”

  His lips tightened. There was no witty comeback or sarcastic response. He just looked speechless. I couldn’t prevent my eyes from rolling into the back of my head. I had to have been desperate or drunk to do this. Hell . . . maybe I was both.

  I stood, tying the belt on my robe, and without a backward glance in his direction, I continued to speak. “It’s time for you to go. You’ve got a lot of work to do on my case. Keep me posted when you get back to Washington.”

  I needed a shower and headed off to the bathroom leaving him to get dressed and leave. I hoped he was a better lawyer than he was in bed. Rule number one, if you wanted to keep my interest, you certainly couldn’t be shitty in bed.

  *****

  The Day after the Funeral of Chang Lee-Xiou

  This ridiculous meeting would be over soon enough, and then I could get back to business; three down and five more to go—well, after today, make that four. I hated that it had to come to this, but there was a seat at the table with my name etched in blood. Nothing and no one was going to keep me from it. At some point they would learn that Gina Lee-Xiou is not the chick you want to mess with.

  These stairs are steep. I took my time taking them sideways, and one at a time especially since I was wearing a black designer two-piece skirt set and four-inch heels. I was suited up for the office not going into what looked like a throwback from a medieval times dungeon. Oh well. I learned a long time ago to expect the unexpected. I’ve just got to take my opportunities when they present themselves.

  I voiced my thoughts out loud. “How ironic we’re meeting here. Mr. Wong must have built his house in the 1700s. I guess this is the perfect place for it.” Good thing I wasn’t claustrophobic, because I could literally extend my arms out and touch each side of these grimy walls with my hands. This space was much too narrow to do anything other than get to the bottom without falling. Wouldn’t that be something, I thought, to fall and break my damn neck just when I’m at the point where I have almost everything I’ve ever wanted at my fingertips. The visual of me rolling down the stairs in slow motion was enough to make me laugh. Laughter came a lot easier these days.

  I wasn’t in any real danger of actually taking a tumble, since two members of my security team were behind me, and two were in front. However, in my fit of laughter, they turned focused eyes on me, most likely to see if I was losing my mind. A lot had been going on lately, so I certainly understood the concern. “Hey, no need to look at me like that. I’m good . . . just thought of something that made me laugh.” Honestly, losing it or someone pushing me headlong down these stairs would solve a lot of people’s problems. It was hard to see, so it could be a perfect opportunity for any of them to simply let me fall, then claim it was an accident. For now, I thought they were loyal and I was safe. Loyalty comes at a high price. I can only hope I’ve paid it with the people I’ve surrounded myself with, because I would need them.

  Devious minds were not paranoid; we were just always on alert. Typically, we’ve done so much dirt, anything could happen at any time; we’ve always got to be ready.

  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Small lamps were placed intermittently along the sides of the walls going down the stairs. They didn’t illuminate much. That was why we all walked in a steady straight line. The only noises that could be heard was the sound of our breathing, the shuffling of their feet and the clicking of my heels.

  I was beyond ready to get this over with. I hated having to deal with these types of tasks, but they were necessary. I stopped in mid-step and as did everyone else. My senses were being ambushed. What the hell was that smell? I covered my nose and mouth against the putrid odor coming up from below. It was a horrible damp/rotten smell, along with something else I couldn’t identify. Most likely it was because this part of the house hadn’t been used in years. Between the darkness and the smell, I was getting a headache.

  We arrived at the bottom, and I took a good, long look around me. There were cobwebs and dust everywhere. The dust seemed to be at least two inches thick. Old furniture was scattered about, and boxes were piled up high probably filled with precious family heirlooms. They’ll need to go through that stuff soon.

  The gravelly voice of my head security, Max, directed me to where the main show was being held. “This way Ms. Lee-Xiou.”

  I followed him over to an area that opened up into a spacious room. Apparently, they never finished this part of the basement, the walls and floors were made of concrete. Good. There weren’t any windows or much of anything else in here except for a chair sitting in the center of the room, a dim light hanging from the ceiling shining directly over it, thick industrial plastic covering the floor, and three of my men surrounding it waiting to take their cues from me.

  They were all naked from the waist up and in excellent physical condition. Muscles ripped and tight with washboard abs so perfect they looked spray painted on. I couldn’t help but notice. I was a woman who hadn’t relieved any sexual tension in months. Bad sex didn’t count. Maybe later, one of them might be able to help me out with that. In the meantime, I needed to handle this situation.

  Mr. Wong sat tied to the chair. It was hard to recognize him, bec
ause his face and body had been beaten so severely. It was as if he’d been put into a meat-grinder. I hated to see him like this, but technically, it was his fault for forcing my hand. All he had to do was sign the damn papers naming me the successor to my father in The Family, and this ugliness could have been avoided. Lord knows, he couldn’t say that I didn’t give him ample opportunity to welcome me. Instead, he wanted to challenge me. He figured that, since the death of Chang, it would be easy to push me aside. I had news for him. I earned that chair with blood, sweat, and—I would say tears, but that part would be a lie.

  I took my time as I sauntered over to stand in front of him. I wondered if he could see me. Both of his eyes were almost swollen shut.

  My voice was conciliatory. This was business. It wasn’t too personal, at least not on my part. I tilted my head slightly as I squinted to make out the once beautiful features of this seventy-ish-year-old man. My guys worked him over pretty good. Don’t get me wrong; I respected my elders, I really did, but I had to use him as an example. I didn’t want anyone else thinking they could pull a stunt like he did again.

  It was too bad it had to be Mr. Wong, because I’d once had a fondness for the man. He’d spent many a night holed up with my father in his office. They were the best of friends. Every now and again, when Nina and I were girls, he would bring us candy. Oh well.

  Now, he sat in front of me beaten, battered and unrecognizable.

  “I’m so sorry about all of this Mr. Wong. I had hoped you and I could come to some kind of understanding, but I realized when your people tried to kill me that we were at an irreconcilable impasse.”

  He grunted and attempted to speak through busted, bloody, swollen lips. His words were more like gasps and hard to make out, but I understood them. “The Family will never accept you.”

  I moved to get just a little closer. Gently, I pushed his still mostly black hair away from his eyes. I placed his head in the palms of my hands as I cupped each swollen cheek. I began to squeeze. Every time he attempted to blink, I increased the pressure—slowly—so that it forced the congealed wounds on his face to re-open. Blood oozed all over my hands.

  “You want to play? Let’s play. Just understand, it didn’t have to come to this. You made your move, and it didn’t work. The biggest mistake of your life was your failed attempt to kill me. Honestly, I never wanted to go to Plan B, but you left me no choice.”

  He groaned in pain. My hands clenched his face as if they were a steel vice.

  “They don’t have to like me, but they will accept me as the new head of The Family. You, on the other hand—it won’t really matter whether you accept me or not because we both know that you’re not going to walk out of this room.”

  His voice was raspy . . . weak. “If you kill me there will not be enough members to establish a quorum, so no vote can be taken. You’ll never get what you want.”

  “Are you still underestimating me, Mr. Wong? I know the rules like the back of my hand. See, if the remaining living members, emphasis on living, vote unanimously to establish a quorum—and you know they will—you might as well start congratulating me now.”

  Silence.

  “Hmmm? Nothing to say, Mr. Wong? I’m doing my best to be as respectful as possible in this messed up situation. That’s why I came down here to see you when I could have been in my office working on Xiou business, but I’m old school. You and Chang taught me well even if you didn’t know it. What was it he used to say? Always look the walking dead in the eyes before you put them to sleep. Any final words?”

  He nodded slowly. “Rot in hell, Gina.”

  I released him and wiped my bloodied hands down the front of my skirt. “Probably, but it’ll be a good long time before I get there. You, on the other hand, will get there very soon—sooner than what was necessary. That is what happens when you attempt to assassinate me and fail.” I took a quick peek at my watch. “I hate to end it like this, but I do have several more meetings today.”

  I backed away from him and turned to one of my men. I nodded giving him the signal to kill him. Sadly, this was going to be the end of an era.

  He managed to whisper-yell at me. “You won’t get away with this, Gina. My family will avenge my death.”

  I turned back around then raised my blood-stained hand and waved it dismissively back and forth. “I’m the lioness of this pride. The weak will always follow the strong. You know they’ll fall in line just like all of the other families.” I paused then snapped my fingers. I remembered something very important. “Mr. Wong, when you get to hell . . . please tell my father I said, ‘Hello.’ ”

  Chapter 2

  Day 50 of Chang Lee-Xiou’s Mourning

  The mourning period was over. Daddy dearest’s memory could finally be buried along with him. Thank the gods above or below whichever-the-hell. No more waiting for approval. No more pretending to be in mourning when what I really wanted to do was tap dance all over his grave. No more looking over my shoulder for whatever fate he had planned for me, and no more following his rules. For as long as I walk this earth it will be my damn rules.

  I couldn’t even put into words the difference a day makes. I literally almost skipped into Chang’s office, which had been locked up since the day he died. For the sake of appearance, I observed nearly all of our Chinese traditions including the forty-nine days of mourning until midnight last night. At 12:01 am, this house was nothing but a flurry of activity. My staff had been instructed to turn this place upside down and transform this house to my specifications.

  My personal assistant pulled every piece of black clothing out of my closet and gave it away to charities. Unless I was forced to endure another mourning, I would never wear that damn color again. Forty-nine days of black wore on my nerves. Red was my color of choice. It signified happiness. Can’t be happy when you’re supposed to be in mourning. I had an almost entirely red wardrobe delivered today. It was taboo over the past forty-nine days to wear it, but I made sure to wear a pair of lacy red lingerie underneath my clothing for each and every one of those days. Not only was I happy, but I was ecstatic. The monster was gone.

  All the deities my father kept here had been covered up with red paper after his death so as not to disrespectfully expose his corpse to them. I made sure they were the first items to be packed away with care and removed. I may not be a Buddhist, but I respected the religion. Also, all the mirrors that had been removed, because tradition said those of us in mourning shouldn’t see the reflection of my father’s coffin in them or it would bring about an untimely death, were destroyed. I personally removed the white cloth that hung over the doorway to his house and the gong that was placed to the left of the entrance. Gone. All of it was now gone. I got rid of all traces of Chang Lee-Xiou except one, his office.

  Now, I thought to myself, here I am sitting in his office wearing, from head to toe, red. A two-piece double breasted suit with matching stilettos to be exact. I wanted everyone to know I was screaming happiness. I was finally in my rightful place. I extended and lifted my long legs, crossing them at the ankle and resting them on the edge of his desk. Funny, I was barely able to sit on the other side of it just to have a conversation with him, now I could do whatever I want. Rather than dancing on top of the table, I ran my hands down the armrests of his old leather chair as I glanced around wondering how I was going to put my stamp on this room. I hadn’t yet touched it. I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to. It was a stark reminder to pay attention to everything especially those closest to you. Had my father done that, he would probably be alive today. It was his own fault for not taking me seriously.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one. Every man who ever meant anything to me never took me seriously. None worse than my own father. He underestimated me. The smirk on my face was not because I found it amusing; no, it was quite the opposite. The man I most looked up to as the smartest and most powerful person in the world, couldn’t see himself in me. How sad, because I was much smarter than any of those idiots
he surrounded himself with. I bided my time, watched and learned right under his nose, and he missed everything. Now he’s dead. Briefly, I closed my eyes remembering that day. The day I killed my father. It was really too bad, but it was either him or me, and it for damn sure wasn’t going to be me. I guess one could say it was an unfortunate casualty of this business.

  As my eyes opened, I took in every detail inside of the room. I decided to get rid of it all except maybe this chair. It would stay as a reminder to never underestimate the enemy. It didn’t hurt that the leather was so smooth and soft. Perhaps, I’d also leave that picture of him with the slight scowl on his face on the wall, arms folded, and looking at everyone with that piercing dark stare that goes clear through your soul. Yes, I’ll leave it hanging on the wall. He looked so untouchable in that one. Like with everything else looks can be deceiving.

  I used to think the person who got to sit in this old chair had all the power. As a matter of fact, I still believe that. It cost me everything to occupy this seat. Was it worth all the sacrifices I made to be here? Missing my niece grow up? The love of my life? I didn’t know, but I was going to find out.

  My father was ruthless and evil. I wouldn’t say I was evil per say, but if doing what I have to do makes me ruthless, then I’d gladly accept the title. To say my father lacked tolerance for anyone who wouldn’t bend to his will was an understatement. That I inherited from him. So far, that message had been delivered loud and clear with the death of Mr. Wong. Three of the eight families had fallen in line. I’d convince the other three soon enough.

  There may have been a part of me that loved my father once; I wasn’t really sure. He killed my mother, my sister, and if I hadn’t killed him first, Cecily would be dead, and I wouldn’t be sitting here reminiscing about dear old dad.