Page 246 of By His Rule

My chin drops, and all the words I wanted to say vanish in a heartbeat.

“There they are,” he says, almost sounding relieved that I don’t have a chance to respond.

Tate immediately makes a beeline for the back, whereas King approaches the passenger side, obviously expecting it to be empty.

He pulls the door open, and I cringe.

“Oh, Lorelei. Hey, how’s it going?”

“Great, thanks,” I say, forcing a smile onto my lips.

“You’re in the back with your girl, Bro,” Kian informs him. “No funny business, yeah?”

King rolls his eyes and slams my door closed.

Tatum is either oblivious to the tension around her or chooses to ignore it, because the second she’s inside, she pokes her head through the seats and looks between us.

“You two had sex,” she announces.

The need to curl up in a ball and hide from her is all-consuming.

“Do you know what? This was a really bad idea.” I reach for the door handle again. “I’ll get an Uber home. Enjoy the game.”

I push the door open and almost get a foot on the ground when Kian’s deep voice vibrates through the air.

“Get the fuck back in, Lorelei. You’re not going anywhere.”

I freeze, my body reacting to his demands without permission from my brain.

His eyes burn into the name branded across my shoulder blades.

Callahan.

Just like the moment I pulled it on, his possessiveness wraps around me.

I might be in a jersey supporting his little brother, but it’s still his surname, and that’s enough for him.

No one says another word as they wait to see how I’m going to react. There is a huge part of me that wants to be a stubborn bitch, to get out and walk off with my head held high. But, there is a bigger part that really wants to hang out with Tate and go to the game. And eventually, that part wins.

“Fine,” I huff, falling back into my seat with as much sass as I can muster.

“Behave, Brat,” King mutters under his breath before Tate must reach out and slap him because he complains a few seconds later.

Thankfully, talk quickly turns to the game and everything is forgotten. Or at least, it is for the guys. I already know that there is no chance of Tate forgetting. And I’m only proven right, the second we get into the stadium and I’m dragged into the ladies’ bathroom.

Thankfully, it’s empty.

Reaching for my hand, Tate stops me from escaping her and hiding in a stall. Instead, she spins me around and locks her eyes on mine.

“Tell. Me. Everything,” she demands.

Excitement lights up her face; all the while, I want the ground to swallow me whole.

Is there anything more cliché than admitting to your best friend that you’ve been fucking your boss? Your hot boss that every other woman on the planet wants to fuck? Your billionaire, stupidly hot and charismatic boss? The man you so adamantly hated when you accepted the job?

“Fucking hell, Tate,” I mutter, covering my burning cheeks with my hands.

“Okay, let’s start with the best bits,” she suggests. “Is he good?”

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