Page 77 of By His Rule

“My little brother,” I state. “Happy now?”

He blinks. Once. Twice. Three times.

O-oh, he was not expecting that.

How cute.

“Careful, Kian. You look awfully close to losing control right now.”

I smile up at him innocently.

“Just get back to work, Lorelei,” he hisses before turning on his heels and marching from the room.

“Well then,” I mutter to myself once the door has closed behind him.

Waking my cell up, I find the app that will allow me to watch a live stream of Wilder’s game that’s due to start any minute, and I prop it up so I can see as I return to the endless sheets of paper, showcasing what has to be the most depressing set of company accounts that I’ve ever seen.

Kian is gone longer than I was expecting, and I can’t help but feel smug about riling him up so much that he had to go and have a serious word with himself.

Good. Fucker deserves to give himself a dressing down for his overbearing behavior.

The game starts and I quickly forget about the paperwork, instead focusing on the tiny players running around my screen.

It’s almost impossible to identify any of Wilder’s teammates, but I can spot my little brother from a mile away, and from the second the whistle blew, he’s been on it.

“Yes,” I hiss when he makes a pass that earns them the first touchdown of the game. “You can do this. Make those scouts proud, baby.”

I startle when a throat clearing on the other side of the room rips through the air.

“Shit,” I mutter before glancing nervously at my cell.

Kian takes a step forward, and the unmistakable scent of takeout fills the room. My stomach almost immediately rumbles.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he clears off the coffee table before me and places the bag on it.

“I ordered us dinner,” he says simply, as if the event that sent him running from his office never happened. “What are you watching?”

I climb to my feet, taking my cell with me.

“Umm…hey?” I complain when he snatches my cell to look for himself.

“At least it’s not porn,” he deadpans, making my cheeks blaze, before tapping on my screen.

“What the hell are you—” My words trail off as the huge flat screen on the opposite wall lights up and Wilder’s game appears before me.

The players are no longer unrecognizable little ants on the screen. Now they all have limbs, and I can even make out the names and numbers on their jerseys.

“Which one is your brother?” Kian asks.

“Seriously?” I balk, blindly dropping onto the couch beside him as my eyes track Wilder across the screen.

“Protective much?” Kian mutters as he begins unloading the bagful of food.

“Don’t start. You have no idea what our?—”

“I’m sorry.”

I rear back. “Y-you’re?—”

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