Page 11 of Obeying His Rules

I hear him speaking to someone on what must be a phone call, and quickly get up, slip my panties on, and follow after him.

“Sorry, you want me to leave?” I ask. “That’s a little…sudden. Don’t you think? This was just an important life moment for me…”

He’s already got his pants on and is doing up the buttons on his shirt as I come into the room.

“I told you not to fall in love with me tonight.”

“I don’t think I’ve fallen in love with you–”

“Listen,” he says, turning to face me. “I don’t do romance. I don’t do love. I’ll do friends-with-benefits if you want to see me again, but that’s it. And if you want to do that, we’re going to be adding another rule to our situation.”

My head’s still spinning, and I haven’t even put my dress back on yet. But I still manage to reply.

“And what rule is that?”

“No asking me any personal questions and absolutely no asking me about my past. Understand?”

What I understand is that this isn’t up for debate. This is a man who is used to getting his way.

“Yeah, fine,” I reply simply as I reach for my dress. I slip into it as quickly as possible, and when Marlon comes to help me with the zipper, I shake my head. “No, I got it.”

It’s a pain in the ass to do, but I manage to get it zipped up on my own.

As I walk to the doors, I pull out my phone to order an Uber, but Marlon sees and stops me.

“There’s a car downstairs. It will take you wherever you want to go.” He hands me a simple business card with a number on it. “If you want to see me again, call.”

He pulls out his keycard and swipes it, and the elevator doors open. I step in and turn around and look at him, feeling as though I’ve just experienced the greatest case of emotional whiplash in history.

He looks back at me, and I search his face for something–anything that would give away some information on what he’s thinking or feeling at this moment.

But there’s nothing.

“Good night, Rain.”

He swipes his card and the doors close.

“Good night, Marlon.”

3

RAIN

I wake up to sun blasting me in the eyes and the smell of coffee teasing my nostrils. I smile and stretch, but then instantly panic when I realize just why it is I’m smelling coffee.

“Holy shit!” I gasp as I sit up and grab my phone.

Nine forty-five. I was supposed to be at work at 8:00. Well, officially 8:00, but I always show up around 7:45 just to make sure Janelle has her latte when she arrives at 8:00. Then I have an extra ten minutes or so to make sure I can get anything else done that might need to be done before the day starts.

She’s going to kill me.

I see one missed call from the office, and a single text from her.

I open it.

Where are you?

It was sent at 8:01.

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