Breaking All the Rules (14 page)

At ten minutes to four my phone rings. The display says Lawford Incorporated. This is Nate’s billionaire father’s holding company. “Hello,” I answer semipolitely, curious why anyone there would be contacting me.

“Miss Trent.” The man’s voice is rougher, more rushed than Nate’s, but there’s no mistaking the connection. “Meet me at the corner coffee shop at four o’clock.”

I wait for him to explain why. He doesn’t elaborate, the man’s expectation that I’ll do what he says confirming his identity. “Nate has another meeting at four o’clock, Mr. Lawford.”

“My meeting is with you, Miss Trent, not my son.” Nate’s dad clips each word.

“I—”

There’s a click, followed by silence, the senior Mr. Lawford assuming I’ll drop everything and rush to meet him. “The irony is he’s right,” I mutter to myself as I smooth my hair and reapply my lipstick. He has piqued my curiosity, the reason for the meeting enticingly mysterious.

I exit the shredding room and walk along the hallway, skimming my moist palms over my gorgeous leather suit. Mr. Lawford is a busy man. He doesn’t make casual appointments. He wants something from me.

I enter the empty elevator car. My image is reflected in the mirrored walls, the lights shining on my green hair. This can’t be about my . . . ummm . . . investigations. I’ve only hacked into Mr. Lawford’s systems ten or eleven times and I was very careful, covering my trail, closing all of the doors behind me. His cybersecurity team couldn’t have caught me. They aren’t that skilled.

I stomp through the lobby, my heels ringing on the marble floor. Jerome, the nasty security guard, isn’t at his post. The sleepy security guard reclines in the chair, his arms crossed and his head bowed.

I blast through the revolving doors and stride into the sun. This meeting has to be about Nate. I march toward the coffee shop, my tread heavy. His dad’s employees moved my things. He’ll know we’re living together.

Our lunch with Viola could have been another catalyst. I kick a loose stone and it skitters over the sidewalk. Nate’s dad is a very competitive man. He wouldn’t like that Viola, a woman he views as an adversary, knows more about his son than he did.

I enter the coffee shop, the scent of java filling my nostrils. Quiet conversation buzzes. A long line of jittery patrons curls around the front counter.

Mr. Lawford wouldn’t stand in line. I scan the space and quickly locate him. He sits alone in one of the three coveted booths, his head bent over a cup of coffee, his hair gray and his profile strong. His navy-blue suit is perfectly fitted to his large body. He exudes arrogance and power.

Standing to his immediate right is a massive brute in an ill-fitting black suit. His eyes are shielded by sunglasses, his feet braced apart, and his arms crossed.

Great. Nate’s dad brought muscle to this meeting. I trod toward them. He’s expecting hostility. “Mr. Lawford.”

The bodyguard steps in front of me, blocking my access to his employer. “Mr. Lawford isn’t interested.”

“Then Mr. Lawford shouldn’t have phoned me, chuckles.” I rest my hands on my hips and tilt my head back to gaze up at the overly serious man. “I’m a busy woman. I have things to do.”

Chapter Ten

I
STARE AT
the bodyguard. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. Three middle-aged women wearing white pants and matching pastel sweaters watch us, whispering behind their hands. I shift my gaze to them. The gossiping gals scatter, squawking with distress.

“Miss Trent, I presume.” Ice drips from Mr. Lawford’s lips. He’s definitely Nate’s father, frosty to the bone.

The bodyguard moves.

Mr. Lawford gazes at me. I lift my chin and gaze back at him. His eyes are the same color as Nate’s, the palest coolest gray, and his face is hard, weathered by life.

Seconds pass as we size each other up. He’s a fellow game player, an older, more cynical male version of myself, a tough man known in the business world for his unwavering opinions and his unyielding stances. Has he made up his mind about me?

“You’re not who I expected,” he concedes.

I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I’m not who anyone expects.”

“Have a seat.” Mr. Lawford waves one of his hands. He doesn’t bother to stand, sending a clear message: I’ll have to earn his respect. “We have matters to discuss.”

“I can’t imagine what those matters could be.” I smack down my ass on the brown pleather seat.

“Can’t you?” He lifts his eyebrows. “Your official job title might be intern, but I know who you are, Miss Trent.” He begins his verbal assault, taking the offensive. “I know all about my son and his so-called girlfriends. I know he pays you, that you’re a whore, a woman who can be bought for a few dollars.”

I rear back, reeling from this surprise attack. I hadn’t expected Mr. Lawford to be familiar with Nate’s sexual history, to know about his son’s unique preferences.

I’ve finally figured out why being Nate’s money honey is a bad thing.

“Speechless, Miss Trent?” Mr. Lawford’s eyes gleam. He believes he’s subdued me.

He doesn’t know I’ve been playing these games my entire life. “Yes, I am speechless,” I admit. “I didn’t realize Nate’s feelings about me were so obvious.”

His dad blinks twice, his reaction signaling a direct hit. Score one point for me. “You’re his whore,” he rumbles.

“Exactly. I’m not
a
whore. I’m
his
whore.” I smile, not bothered by the name-calling. I have green hair and an even crazier outlook on life. I’ve been called worse things. “He’s paid for sex in the past yet I doubt you contacted any of those women. You phoned me because Nate cares about me. I make him happy and that bothers you. Don’t you want your son to be happy?”

“Temporary happiness has a long-term price.” Mr. Lawford’s jaw juts out. He loves Nate. He’s attempting to protect him, to stop him from making the same mistakes he did.

“I’m not Viola.” I touch his hand. His skin is rough, creased with wrinkles. “I’m not trying to trap him.”

“No, you’re not Viola. You’re honest about your intentions, about who you are.” Mr. Lawford allows the contact for one telling moment, as hungry for touch as his son is. Then he draws his hand out of my reach and curls his palms around his cup of coffee. “You’re open about wanting my son for his money.”

“I’m open about being your son’s whore,” I correct him. “I don’t care about his money.” Mr. Lawford frowns. “You may know about Nate’s so-called girlfriends, but you don’t know about me.”

“I know you have a price. All women do.” He withdraws a pen and a check from his inside jacket pocket. “What is it, Miss Trent? How much will it cost me for you to leave my son alone?” His gold fountain pen is sleek and beautiful. I suspect it’s the best.

“The person with the pen holds all of the power,” I say quietly, and Nate’s dad glances sharply at me. “I’m a hacker, Mr. Lawford, and I’m very good at what I do. If I wanted your money I’d take it, and there’d be nothing you could do to stop me.”

He twists his lips. He doesn’t believe me. I study the check on the table, memorizing the account number. Proving my abilities will be embarrassingly simple.

“Name your price,” Mr. Lawford states. “Will a million dollars suffice?”

“A million dollars?” I laugh loudly, and heads turn. Patrons watch us, their eyes wide with curiosity, their lips moving. “Is that the going rate for the perfect son? And you based Nate’s worth on what? Your tally of his childhood expenses?”

Mr. Lawford’s expression could freeze water. Score another point for me. “The only other person who knows about that spreadsheet is his mother.”

“And Nate,” I add. “Nate knows exactly what you believe he’s worth.”

Mr. Lawford flinches. “He wasn’t meant to see that.”

“Nate has more than simply seen it. He has a copy of the spreadsheet.” I know what Mr. Lawford is feeling right now. In the past I’ve also hurt others, been too consumed by my games to realize the pain I was causing. I almost lost Kat, my best friend, that way.

“Two million dollars is my final offer.” Mr. Lawford returns to the negotiations, using money to mask his emotions . . . as his son does.

“One day with Nate is worth more than two million dollars. One touch of his hand, one of his small smiles, one of his rare laughs is worth more than your entire net worth.” I turn my head and stare at the picture of coffee plants hanging on the brown-painted wall, struggling to control my emotions. “He’s a good man, Mr. Lawford. You should be proud of him. He’s respected and loved.”

“You can’t love him,” Mr. Lawford bluntly states. “Love doesn’t exist.”

“Your son doesn’t believe love exists either.” I smile sadly. “Unfortunately for my heart, I know love is very real.” I stand, tired of this game, no longer wanting this victory. “Your concerns about us are unnecessary. Nate and I have a contract. Our agreement is for one month only. If you know your son you know he rarely extends contracts.”

“I taught him that,” Mr. Lawford claims proudly. “Requests for extensions erode power. Set the length of a contract and stick to it.” He thumps the tabletop with his fist.

Nate won’t extend our contract. A bone-deep weariness fills my soul. “Your son likes to be touched,” I tell Mr. Lawford. “Shake his hand when you can. Hug him if you’re able.”

I stride out of the coffee shop, ignoring the stares of the other patrons. The sun is still shining and the sky remains blue. Tall palm trees line the sidewalk.

Only I’ve changed. I walk quickly, heading toward the small park, my sanctuary amid the concrete and steel madness. Returning to the office isn’t an option. My emotions are too bare, too exposed.

The park is deserted. I sit on a shaded bench, remove my shoes, and sink my toes into the grass, grounding myself in nature. The tree’s leaves rustle above me. A bee buzzes near the gleaming white gazebo. I breathe in, breathe out, inhaling the fragrance of the surrounding flowers.

My relationship with Nate will end and my heart will break. That is a certainty. My pride must remain intact or I won’t survive it. I unclip the phone from my waistband and access the free Wi-Fi connection.

It takes me an hour to hack into one of the private banks Mr. Lawford uses, my signal relayed through multiple servers, concealing my trail. It takes me minutes to move the money, reducing four of his nine accounts to zero balances.

Mr. Lawford phones me soon after I empty his bank accounts. I see his number on the small screen and ignore him. He calls again and again and again. I focus on my data-sharing project, working remotely.

At five o’clock Nate calls me. Unable to hear his voice, my emotions still too raw, I don’t answer his call. Coworkers rush from the tall concrete-and-glass office building into the steel-and-glass buses. No one enters the park, not a single person taking the time to enjoy nature, to savor the hot summer day.

The building will be devoid of life. I should return to my office. Unable to dredge up the energy to move, I stay on my park bench.

Moments pass. The sun sinks lower and lower in the sky. The murmur of voices fades. The sense of sorrow, of loss lingers.

Nate was never mine to keep. I’m a vacation for him. Mourning our relationship is foolish and I’m not a foolish woman.

The hairs on the back of my neck lift, my body hums with awareness, and my mood lightens. I know who has arrived yet I don’t look at him, fearing what he’ll see in my eyes. The wooden bench slates dip and a warm firm thigh presses against mine.

“Are you angry with me?” Nate places one of his arms around my shoulders.

“If I was angry with you you’d know it.” I stare at my dirty feet.

Nate chuckles softly. “That’s true.” The silence stretches. He pulls me closer to him, the contact soothing me. “Someone hacked into some of my father’s bank accounts.”

I dig my toes deeper into the grass, seeking rich dark earth.

“He thinks I know something about it.” Nate pauses. “Should I know something about it?” I don’t say anything. “The hacker had access to other bank accounts, accounts with larger balances, and she didn’t touch those funds. Accumulating wealth wasn’t her goal.”

“Accumulating wealth has never been my goal.” I rest one of my palms on Nate’s right thigh. His muscles flex under the fabric.

“Why did you choose my father?”

“Ask him why.” I’ve already interfered too much in their relationship. “Tell him I’m okay with telling you everything. I own every word I said.”

“You always do.” Nate twines a strand of my green hair around his index finger. “My father can be . . . challenging at times.”

I glance at Nate, see the concern reflected in his eyes. “He loves you.”

“I don’t know about that.” Nate tugs on my hair.

“I do.” I touch his gorgeous face, unable to resist him. He turns his head slightly, pressing his cheek into my palm, his skin warm and smooth. “Your dad doesn’t know how to show it, but he does love you.”

Nate smiles sadly. “Showing emotion isn’t a Lawford strength.”

“I have that strength in spades.” I slide my fingers over his nape, pull him toward me, cover his lips with mine, putting everything I feel into the kiss, all of the love and all of the passion.

Nate groans into my mouth and our tongues twist, tumble, his mint flavor causing my cheeks to tingle. He threads his fingers through my hair, cups my skull, holding me to him as he dives deeper inside me.

Nate doesn’t love me, his mom hates me, and his dad thinks I’m a whore. Our future is doomed, our contract nonnegotiable, and my heart will be broken. This moment makes all of this agony worthwhile.

Nate sucks on my tongue and my fingers and toes curl, the pressure divine. I caress his cheeks, his jaw, his neck.

My stomach growls. Loudly. My face heats.

Nate laughs. “I suspected you’d be hungry.” He stands, pulls me upright. I slip my dirty feet into my shoes. “I had groceries delivered to our house.”

Our house. That sounds so nice, so right. I allow him to lead me back to the office building, our hands fused together, our fingers entwined.

“I’ll help you with dinner, the key word being help.” Nate’s tone is light and happy, edged with a boyish excitement. “I’ve never prepared a meal for anyone, not even for myself.”