Page 15 of Obeying His Rules

I lean back in my chair and sigh.

A minute ago, I wasn’t even sure what I was going to do with Marlon–whether I would take him up on his offer or not–and now I feel as though I have something to prove. It’s like I have to follow through with his offer, or I’m showing weakness or something. Like I’m a not capable of keeping up with him.

“But why do you think he’s so secretive about his life?” I ask. “And what’s that little necklace he was holding?”

Both Jasmine and Taylor sigh nearly in unison and start to laugh.

“See?” Taylor says to Jasmine. “She’s doing it already!”

“Yup, she is!”

“Doing what!?” I cry out.

“Trying to figure him out!” Jasmine cackles.

“Oh, shut up!” I protest.

Jasmine leans in and takes my hand, caringly, like a mother would do with her daughter.

“Listen, Rain. I’m being serious now. You’re not a hookup kind of girl.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I could be…” I reply half-heartedly. But she’s right. I’m not. I never have been.

“You’re a long-term girl. A relationship girl. Remember when you adopted that dog from the shelter that ended up dying of cancer?”

A sting hits me in the chest as thoughts of Rufus, my golden retriever, come flashing back to me.

All I can do is nod.

“You were sick about him for weeks, sweetie. And when you fall for this guy, when you get too attached and mess up your arrangement by breaking the rules you two have laid out, and he cuts you off, what do you think is going to happen?”

I shake my head and pull my hand away from hers.

“Don’t be silly, Jasmine. Marlon isn’t a dog.”

Jasmine looks at me and does that thing she can do where she raises only one eyebrow.

“Are you sure?”

4

MARLON

Not a cloud in the sky.

I should be out enjoying the weather, but not today. Today there’s business to be conducted.

I stand in front of the tall window in my office that looks out over the yard and watch the machinery–tons and tons of various metals being picked up and separated so that they can be smelted down and sold off to be reused later.

My own metal recycling company, built from the ground up by no one else but me.

I look down at her necklace in my hand. A heart made from 950 grade platinum, and within, a flawless single carat diamond. Nothing too gaudy, just tasteful and delicate. Just like the woman who wore it.

There’s a knock on my door, and from the solidarity, I already know who it is.

“Come in.”

The door opens, and I turn to see Brian, my number two, overall projects-manager, and the only man I truly trust here at the company.

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