Hard Rules

“The company doesn’t need to be saved,” Derek bites out, as if we’re midconversation. “Father might be playing a game with us, but we both know he won’t watch his pride and joy be gutted.”

“Wake up, Derek. He’ll be dead and you’ll be in jail if we don’t make changes. We can make those changes together.”

“We can’t do shit together, Shane.”

“We’re brothers. We used to be inseparable.”

“I was your babysitter, then left for college before you even hit high school. We barely know each other and anything we were damn sure ended when you returned home and became everyone’s moral compass.” His jaw sets. “Go back to your world. This is mine.”

His. This is all about the company and money. Power. And still, the brother in me who used to idolize Derek wants to cave and give him what he demands, but he’s made that impossible. “Together,” I say again.

“Fuck off, Shane. How do you not see how much I hate you? Right isn’t right because it’s your way, and you’ll find that out soon. You have my word.” He steps back and walks down the hallway. I step to the center of the hall, staring after him, willing him to turn back, and wondering how we’ve gotten to this place where we are now enemies. He rounds the corner, disappearing.

Gone. But he’s not completely lost yet. I refuse to let that happen.

The sound of the lobby door opening and closing signals his departure, and ready to get the hell out of the building, I waste no time following in his path. By the time I’m in the corridor outside Brandon Enterprises, he’s already departed in one of the eight elevators. Another opens for me quickly.

Once inside the car, my mind doesn’t go to Derek, but rather to my father. He’s always been brutal; the many ways he terrorized me in my youth too many to count. Derek had been older, but there had been a window of time we’d shared a hatred of him, and yet both of us had craved his attention and the love I’m not sure he’s capable of giving. I don’t crave that anymore, and yet he’s dying and I think maybe I should. My mind travels to the past, to me at sixteen, and him forcing me to run laps until I threw up after I got a ninety on a test, a failure in his eyes. I guess I should thank him, though. I did get into Harvard.

Holy fuck, I want out of this elevator. I step to the doors, waiting impatiently for them to open, and the second they part, I cut through the deserted building toward the parking garage. Once I reach the steel door, I hesitate, the idea of my empty apartment hitting all the wrong nerves. I head back toward the lobby, which leads directly to the Sixteenth Street strip mall lined with restaurants and bars. I’ll prepare for my brother the way I did my cases in New York. In a corner booth of a restaurant, only this time it won’t be with a never-ending pot of coffee, but an expensive bottle of whiskey. I’m halfway to the front door when my gaze catches on the security booth in the corner and I stop dead in my tracks.

Unless I’m dreaming, my sweet-smelling coffee thief is indeed here again and seems to be arguing with the guard. Suddenly, a little conversation doesn’t sound so bad after all. I remind myself that she is completely wrong for how fucked up my life is right now, but the truth is that’s exactly what makes her appealing. Besides, I don’t want to own the woman. Well. Not when she has her clothes on, and if I have my way, she won’t for long. I start walking in her direction.

EMILY

“I understand the Lost and Found is locked up for the night,” I say to the stoic, gray-haired guard behind the security desk. “But surely you can make an exception for a cell phone. I’m expecting a very important call. I can’t be without my phone.”

“I understand, miss, but there are rules.”

Rules. There’s a concept that hits a raw nerve. “Fine,” I concede, reaching for my wrist, missing the bracelet that should be there but is not. “I’ll come back. How early can I be here?”

“Seven in the morning.”

“Six forty-five it is,” I say, rotating to depart, yelping as I smack into a hard body, and a pair of large, manly hands settles on my waist, steadying me. “I’m sorry,” I say, glancing up in shock to realize the hot man from the coffee shop is standing in front of me and my palms have landed on his incredibly hard, broad chest.

“We meet again,” he says, his voice a soft purr of seduction, and his eyes are still a perfect steel gray just like the tie that matches his suit.

“Yes, I…” I swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“I’m not sorry and I did see you.”

“You … what?” I step back, his hands falling from my waist. Mine slide away from his chest, where I wouldn’t have minded them lingering a little longer, but that would be bad. And inappropriate, which is exactly what I’m trying never to be again.

He glances at the guard. “Is there a problem, Randy?” he asks, and good gosh, no wonder I ended up in that exchange with him this morning. The man is the definition of “tall, dark, and handsome.”

“The lady is looking for her cell phone,” Randy explains, “and Lost and Found is closed for the night.”

Shane arches a brow at the man. “Closed? How does Lost and Found close?”

My thoughts exactly, but I bite my tongue, considering “Randy” had actually displayed quite a lot of patience with me, considering I’d asked the same question in a far more pushy way. And Randy is actually looking quite uncomfortable, his reaction indicating that Shane is more than a random hot guy in this building who likes his coffee ridiculously strong. “I’m the only guard on duty,” Randy explains. “I can’t leave the desk.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">