Bending All the Rules (Billionaire Romance) (The A List Series) (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Cora

After agreeing to become Breccan Laughry’s new personal assistant, Simon had given me a manila envelope that contained a work phone, a key to Breccan’s apartment, several pages of typed instructions, and a Non-Disclosure Agreement. I was too anxious to sleep before my first big day, so after tossing and turning, I finally rolled out of bed at six in the morning, brewed a strong cup of coffee, and began to read over everything. The very first thing on the page in huge bold print read:

PLEASE READ AND MEMORIZE:

THE RULES:

1.
   
Never make me repeat myself.

2.
   
Never speak to anyone about Mr. Laughry

3.
   
Never go in the locked room with the green door

I rolled my eyes as I continued to scan the rest of the document. Rules including the way I dressed when I was with him, the way I was to keep my hair, and even the number of rings it should take me to answer the phone. This guy had to be the most uptight control freak I’d ever seen. But, I could handle it. Hell, if I could handle Simon and his crazy quirks all my life, putting up with this guy for a month should be a cakewalk.

I was just finishing the final page when the provided cell phone buzzed, indicating I had a text message. It simply read “
316 Oceanview Court. Twenty minutes
” –of course—“
take the trash out and wait for further instructions.”

Shoving the papers neatly back in the folder, I checked that my hair was pulled neatly back, as required, before grabbing my keys and heading to my car, typing the address in my navigation system. Seeing as it was so early, traffic was very light, and I made great time, arriving seven minutes ahead of schedule. I parked in the spot outlined in the instructions from the packet, and used the key to let myself in.

As I stepped inside, my jaw dropped. Simon’s penthouse apartment was nice.
This
house was an episode of
Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous
on steroids. Marble tiled entranceway, teak floors in the living room under what I knew was an authentic Persian rug. Beautiful art hung on the walls, art that belonged in a museum—professionally lit with small lights adorning each piece.  In the center of the sunken living room, sat a leather couch and two club chairs—none of which looked like they’d ever been used.

The furniture alone looked like it cost more than my entire apartment and car combined.

I toed out of my sandals, wishing I’d worn socks, so my bare feet didn’t leave marks on the beautifully polished wood, and tiptoed quietly into one of the most exquisite kitchens I’d ever seen. This kitchen would make even a Michelin star chef envious. A six-burner Dacor gas range, oversized Sub Zero fridge, and dishwasher from a brand I couldn’t even pronounce. My fingertips grazed over the sleek black marble of the kitchen island as I admired the deep farmhouse sink large enough for me to take a bubble bath in. Set inside the rich, wood cabinetry was a built in wine station, with four bottles already perfectly chilled and yours at the push of a button.

“I should have demanded more money,” I muttered as I scanned the area for the trashcan. My eyes caught movement, causing me to inhale sharply, and whip around. Standing in front of me was a very thin, nearly naked girl who had just strolled out of the pantry with an apple in her hand. My gaze shot up, trying to avoid her staring at her bare breasts, as I stood there in shock.

The girl didn’t even blink at the fact that she was standing in front of me wearing only a sheer thong and nothing else. I guess if I looked that good naked, I would flaunt it too.

“Are you the maid?” She took a tiny nibble of the apple as she cocked her head at me, waiting for an answer. Her voice was so high pitched it sounded like nails on a chalkboard, and my body involuntarily shivered.

I plastered on a fake smile, trying my best to avoid looking below her head. “Um, no. I’m Mr. Laughry’s personal assistant.”

She sighed, like this was the worst news in the world. “Do you know when the maid is coming? I need my dress dry-cleaned.”

“Sorry. No.”  I peered inside of a few lower cupboards searching for the trash, so I could be done with it, and not be in the same room with Ms. Naked and Unashamed anymore.

I finally found it hidden between the range and the door for the pantry, but when I looked inside the bag, it was empty. Not one speck of garbage to be found. Why would he want me to take out an empty bag?

“Breccan said he was sending someone to help me. I thought it was the maid,” she pouted.

My eyes widened at her words as I put two and two together. Was this girl “the trash” I was supposed to take out? Surely, he couldn’t be that much of a pig, could he?

I squeezed my eyes shut at the reality of my new job, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry…”

“Aubrey.”

“I’m sorry, Aubrey. Mr. Laughry has some urgent business to attend to this morning, so he won’t be able to…continue your previous activities. How did you arrive last night?”

Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “He brought me home from Four Two Four.”

The hottest club in Malibu, of course. “And, is that where you left your vehicle?”

She rolled her eyes at me. “No. I don’t drive.”

Good lord, pulling information from her was more painful than pulling a tooth. I took my phone out of my bag, and launched the Uber app, requesting an immediate pick up. “I see. Why don’t you go get dressed, and your ride will be here in a moment?”

“But Breccan ripped my dress last night. That’s why I needed the maid.” Her tone became more and more high pitched with each word, making me want to scream. “He was… impatient with my striptease.” She winked at me, like we were best girlfriends sharing a secret.

I kept my cool. “I’ll bet. Why don’t we see what I can find you, then.” I left the room in a hurry, not sure if I could stand one more word out of her whiny mouth. Seriously, how did men put up with her? I supposed the giant boobs and tiny, taut body played a big part in that, but still…

I’d never been in the house before, so I had no idea where to begin looking for an old pair of sweats or something for this girl to wear home. I tried the first room off the kitchen, but it was an office. Next to that, a billiards room. This was impossible. I went back out into the main living room, and glanced at Aubrey, who was leaning against one of the wooden beams taking tiny baby nibbles of the apple.

“I’ll be back in a second. I need to run to my car.” She sighed heavily, like it was a major inconvenience, and crossed her arms over her chest, making her giant fake boobs jut out even further.

Throwing my shoes back on, I ran outside, and popped my trunk, grabbing a tee shirt and some shorts from the gym bag I kept in there—you know, in case I ever felt the need to work out. They’d been there for two months, untouched.

I ran back inside, and handed her the clothes. “Here. They’ll be a bit big, but at least you won’t need to go home naked, or with a torn dress. Leave your address on the counter, and I’ll be sure to get your dress repaired, cleaned, and returned this week.”

She wrinkled her nose at the garments, but luckily didn’t whine about them as she padded into a nearby bathroom. I pulled out my phone and thought about texting Simon that he owed me big time, but then I remembered the second rule, and slipped my phone back into my pocket. Instead, I went into the foyer, and checked to see if her shoes were there. Sure enough, a pair of five inch Jimmy Choo stilettos had been kicked against the door. I grabbed them just as Aubrey came out and frowned, looking like she was wearing a tent—which did nothing for my self-esteem.

I reapplied my plastic smile before I handed her a pad of paper and a pen from my purse. “If I could just get your address. The car is waiting outside to take you home. The fair has been paid.” Out of my own account, leaving my checking account balance in the single digits. I sure as hell better get reimbursed. Aubrey scribbled down her address, and handed it back, taking her shoes in the process.

“Will you have Breccan call me?” she pouted.

“Of course, dear. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re already running behind this morning.”

She glanced over my shoulder, her face lighting up like she just spotted Santa. I peered behind me, wondering what she was looking at, when I spotted him. Breccan Laughry, in all his shirtless, chiseled glory. Freshly showered with drops of water still trickling down his bare chest. My knees went a little weak taking him all in, because my God, the pictures did not do him justice. Six feet two inches of sculpted Adonis. Arms, chest, back all chiseled out of stone. Even wet, his temple length black hair was impeccable, not a strand out of place. His strong jaw set off by his day old scruff, making him look both disheveled and rugged in the sexiest of ways. He wore only a pair of black workout shorts, hung low on his hips so that that glorious V that dipped inside those shorts, leading to what I could only imagine was a magnificently well hung package (based on several “bare all” photo-shoots he’d done).

A few low humming noises escaped my mouth before I reminded myself that this jackass had ordered me to take out his one-night stand like trash. I straightened my spine and turned back to Aubrey. “Your car is waiting.”

She held up her thumb and pinky like a phone, and mouthed, “Call me” to Breccan before sashaying out the door. I locked the deadbolt behind her, and prepared myself for whatever would come next.

“You handled that very well, Ms. Horowitz.” His voice was smooth, and hit my ears like silk.

No. I would not be taken in by him, too. I slowly turned around to face Breccan. “It’s Monroe. I use my mother’s maiden name, so people don’t know I’m Simon’s sister.”

He nodded. “I see. Well, Ms. Monroe, you handled that very nicely. I was curious how you’d deal with her.”

I scowled. “You know, I don’t think it’s very decent to refer to your hookups as ‘the trash!’ That was very disrespectful to both that young lady and myself. Sexiest man alive or not, that was a dick move.”

He raised his eyebrows at me, and crossed his arms, an amused smirk on his face. “Ms. Monroe—”

“Just call me Cora.”

“Alright, Cora, she was not the trash to which I was referring.”

I rolled my eyes. “The kitchen garbage can is completely empty. There’s not a shred of trash in it.”

He studied me for a second, his eyes roaming my body up and down. “Follow me.” He didn’t even wait for my reply before turning on his heel, and heading back into the kitchen. He went through, and into the small office I’d previously seen. I stood at the door as he went behind an oversized mahogany desk and pointed. “Come.”

My stomach began to sink as I realized I’d probably screwed up. Sure enough, as I stepped closer, I could see the nearly overflowing document shredder. A giant knot formed in the pit of my stomach. I’d dismissed his hookup, not even knowing if she should leave. I’d called him a dick. I’d yelled at him before even ever introducing myself.

Yeah, I was going to get fired.

Chapter Four

Cora

“If you could just clear this out into the marked can out back, we can get started for the day. I have a few things schedule-wise I’d like to go over with you.” Breccan left the room, leaving me to torment myself as I cleaned out the bin, berating myself under my breath.

“Way to make a great first impression, dumbass,” I muttered.

After completing the task, I returned to the kitchen where Breccan was now fully dressed in a pair of dark jeans that hugged his hips deliciously, and a light blue button down shirt with thin, vertical stripes. He was idly leaning against the countertop sipping an espresso, his lips pursed in… amusement? Irritation? I wasn’t sure.

“Mr. Laughry, I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean to call you a—”

“Dick?” he offered.

I cringed. “Yes. That. I jumped to the wrong conclusion, and I apologize.”

“Cora?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s just move past this, shall we?”

The boulder in the pit of my stomach lifted a little. “That would be great.”

“And by the way, thank you for dealing with Aubrey. She had ‘clingy’ written all over her, a fact of which I’d failed to notice last night when I brought her back. Clearly, I should have just fucked her in the car, and left her at the club.” He paused to take another sip of his espresso. “But I am impressed at how quickly you were able to get rid of her.”

Annnd we’re back in dick territory.  I didn’t respond, but followed him to a large dining room table that easily sat twelve people. He had several manila folders spread out at the head of the table. I took a seat to his right, and retrieved my iPad from my purse, turning it on so I could take notes.

When I glanced back up at Breccan, ready to begin, he was staring at me. He cleared his throat, shaking some thought out of his head before speaking. “I was assured by Simon that you had your passport, is that correct?”

I nodded. “Yes. I took a trip to London in high school, and a trip to Guatemala in college on spring break with Habitat for Humanity.”

His eyes stared at my face as I spoke, but I was unable to read his expression. It wasn’t annoyed or irritated, but maybe… intrigued? Puzzled? I’d have to get to know him better before I could read him.

“Yes, well, as long as it’s current. We’ll be travelling next week to Hong Kong so that I can film on location for my new movie ‘Deadly Justice.’ We’ll be there for a few weeks before then flying to Vancouver for a few additional scenes. You’ve cleared your schedule?” I nodded, and he handed me a slip of paper. “Be at this location on Sunday morning at eleven PM sharp. I prefer to fly the redeye, so I don’t have to take as long adjusting to the jetlag. Until then, I’ll need you to run several errands to ensure things run smoothly while we’re away.” He pulled out his phone, and typed a few things. “All of the details that you’ll need to take care of have been sent to your email.” He closed the file. “That’ll be all. I’ll see you on Sunday. Please message me if a problem arises.”

Without waiting for my response, or even to see if I had any follow up questions, he slid out of his seat and headed back into what I assumed was his master bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“Well… alright then…” I murmured, gathering up the papers and placing them in my messenger bag before heading out.

***

I spent the week running numerous errands, everything from picking up dry cleaning and groceries to dropping off contracts for Simon and shopping for new Louis Vutton luggage for Breccan (thank God he provided me with an expense account!). I even had to run around and find him an organic lavender scented neck pillow for the plane.

On Sunday evening, I arrived at the private airport a half an hour early. Since I wasn’t the greatest flier, I wanted to board the plane, and get settled and calm, well before we were due to take off.

Breccan owned his own plane, a Bombardier Challenger 650—one of the most elite planes in the world. This didn’t surprise me, and since I’d never flown anything but coach, for me flying in such luxurious conditions was a big deal. I dragged my beat up JCPenny’s luggage set behind me as I made my way to the staircase, suddenly very aware of how out of place I was in my Old Navy cotton maxi dress and dollar flip-flops.

“Fist thing I’m doing when I get paid is buying new clothes,” I vowed, walking up to a very handsome pilot who met me at the bottom of the stairs.

“You must be Ms. Monroe. I’ve been expecting you.” He held out his hands and took the luggage from me, save for my carry on messenger bag. “I’m Jude, I’ll be your pilot.”

I smiled at him. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Have you ever flown before?”

“I have, but nothing quite like this,” I gestured up to the jet.

“Well, Ms. Monroe, I’ll try to make it a nice, smooth ride for you.” He winked at me, a small grin on the side of his plump lips. He clutched his hand in my own, sliding his thumb over the tender skin of my wrist as he led me to the stairs. 

Was he flirting with me?
I dismissed the thought. He was just being polite. “Go on up. Mr. Laughry is already aboard.”

I smiled warmly at him and ascended the stairs. He gave my hand a small squeeze before dropping it, returning to the bottom of the stairs. I ducked my head (though at five foot two it wasn’t really necessary) and stepped inside, admiring the beautiful woodwork and plush leather seats. Yeah, maybe this could help me get over my anxiety about flying.

I was about to take a seat in one of the chairs when I heard a very distinct noise coming from the back of the cabin, where the door was closed.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” a woman cried.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered.

“Oh! Yes! Breccan! Oh that feels so good. Right there! Yes! So close. I’m so close.”

I rushed to pull my ear buds out of my purse, but they were a tangled mess at the bottom. Did he actually bring some slut with him to bang the whole way to Hong Kong? Or was he going to hit it and quit it, leaving her as we taxied down the runway?

I honestly was afraid of either answer. After successfully untangling my ear buds, I shoved them in my ears just as the girl rounded home, announcing it to the entire runway. Hell, probably half the airport could hear how happy she was to finally climax.

I set my phone to play a white noise rain app at full volume, and dug out my iPad, resuming the book I’d started a few weeks ago. Breccan had kept me so busy this week (I mean, not as busy as he was keeping this new girl, but I digress) that this was the first chance I had to pick it back up.  It was a new release from one of my favorite authors, a sweet romance with a paranormal twist. I’d been hooked on the genre ever since reading
Twilight
in high school, and whenever I needed a nice reality escape, I opened up a new one.

Right now? Yeah, I was due for a reality escape. Two chapters later, the door leading to the back of the plane opened and out stepped a woman whose eyes widened greatly seeing me as she smoothed down her skirt. I smiled, letting her know it was okay, and went back to my book as she scurried away.

Not five minutes later, Breccan too stepped out of the back, stretching languidly. I popped my ear buds out.

“Ah, Cora. You arrived early I see.”  His face didn’t reveal a drop of embarrassment, or remorse, for what had just occurred.

I pressed my lips together and nodded, keeping my thoughts to myself so as to prevent another episode of verbal diarrhea like last time.

“And, have you met Charlotte?”

I sighed. “Not formally, no.”

He chuckled at my innuendo. “I’m sure she’ll be back to introduce herself momentarily. I believe she went to freshen up.”

Ah. So she was joining us for Hong Kong. Again, I chose not to say anything. Breccan strode over to the bar area and poured himself a drink. “Can I get you something? Bloody Mary or a vodka and soda perhaps?”

I shook my head. “No, thanks. If you don’t need anything from me on the trip, I’m going to take an Ambien, and try to sleep. I’m not the greatest flier, and I think mixing alcohol with the meds would probably be a bad idea.”

“Yes, I agree that perhaps alcohol would not be suitable for your current predicament. I’ll only need to go over tomorrow’s schedule with you after we take off. After that, you’re free to enjoy the flight how you see fit.”

“Okay. The studio sent me the details earlier this afternoon.”

I was about to pull it out when the woman from the back of the cabin came back onto the plane, this time dressed in a blue uniform. “Hello. My name is Charlotte. I’ll be your flight attendant.”

Oh. My. God. I was going to have to spend the next fourteen hours looking this woman in the eye, each of us knowing exactly what had happened. So help me, I’ll never show up so early again.  I smiled, but avoided eye contact, instead focusing on the beautiful broach pinned to her chest.  “Hi. I’m Cora.”

“Is there anything I can get you, Cora?”

I hesitated. On one hand this woman was here to do a job (and not of the hand variety), and on the other hand she and I were both uncomfortable with the position Breccan put us in. I could wallop him for this! Then again, he’d probably enjoy it…

“Just a water, please,” I replied.

Charlotte nodded, and went to get the water, as I joined Breccan at the small table. Before we could get started, the pilot, Jude, came on the overhead system as the engines roared to life. “Welcome, ladies and gentleman. Your pilot, Jude, here. We’ll be taking off momentarily, so please buckle your seatbelt and stow any loose objects.”  I shoved my iPad back in my bag, and took a deep breath.

“It’s going to be okay, Ms. Monroe,” Breccan assured me. His smooth, languid voice washed over me like a warm bath, soothing my frazzled nerves slightly.  My eyes slid shut. “I’ve been flying with Jude for several years. I promise, the flight will be as smooth as possible.”

The longer he talked, the calmer I became, almost as if his voice had a hypnotizing effect on me. “You’ll never need to be afraid under my care, Cora,” he whispered. “I promise you that.”

I inhaled through my nose, savoring the spicy aftershave that drifted over to me. It was pronouncedly musky and… him. It smelled exactly the way I’d expect him to smell. That alone was comforting.

As we began to pick up speed as the plane took of, I rested my head on the back of the seat, gripping the hand rest. A large, warm hand wrapped around and enveloped my own. The fingers lightly grazed over my knuckles before sinking between my fingers and perfectly melding our hands together. 

The gesture made my heart race, but calmed my body. I never opened my eyes, too afraid of what I’d see in Breccan’s. Instead, I let the tiny act be exactly what I needed, and I drifted right to sleep.