Page 2 of His Rules

Oh, great. Now I was going to be a tattler? No, I’d hold my head high when I walked back into the office and act like I didn’t give a damn.

He narrowed his eyes and puffed up like some big he-man. “My father handed out the promotion this afternoon.”

“Oh, yeah?” Wait. Really?

“Congratulations to me,” Cherry purred then giggled. “So sorry you didn’t get the job. You know, you’re kind of cute when your face turns red.”

How could that man give her of all people, a girl who could barely count to ten let alone balance her checkbook, my promotion? I wasn’t certain whether to be furious or laugh hysterically.

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re kind of ugly with your plastic tits.” With that, I turned around and walked slowly, beseechingly slowly toward his front door.

Fuck the food.

Fuck the man.

Fuck my life.

CHAPTER 1

Sebastian

“Mr. Winfield, what does it feel like to be voted Man of the Year?” The female reporter was right by my side, meeting my long strides with ease. She was beautiful as most on-air talent was. Perfect in every way.

And boring.

I’d had my fill of plastic women with hidden agendas. For the time being, I was happy to have no need for female companionship.

That was subject to change since I’d also been called a hound dog in my younger years. What was wrong with being a playboy? I snickered from the thought. Sadly, the woman had caught me at the wrong moment. The phone call I’d just received indicated my world was about to be rocked.

I was pissed and eager to determine the reason behind the sudden difficulties.

“Fine,” I barked.

“Oh, come on,” she purred. “You deserved it. You’re one generous, kind man.”

If she only knew just how unkind I truly was.

“Not bad on the eyes either.” If the woman purred any more, she’d turn into a kitten.

In the days prior to learning the craft of control, I’d have sidled up to her, providing an opportunity for her to see just how hot I was.

I’d been accosted as soon as I’d left the hotel ballroom of the charity event, reporters following me as I attempted to leave. I buttoned my tuxedo jacket and reminded myself to smile for the cameras. I needed to get the woman off my back, so I stopped and attempted to act nonchalant and even friendly. A tough job for a man like me.

“I’m eternally grateful to receive such an honor.” I wondered if any of the reporters could tell I didn’t give a shit. I’d become a master at keeping my expression even, necessary in the business world. Even more so in such a lucrative industry.

However, that didn’t mean I would tolerate the questions or the interactions much longer. I preferred to keep my life very private.

My fake smile had worked. She was eating it up, her perky little nipples showing through her thin blouse.

But I wasn’t the least bit interested.

“Although I would prefer to discuss what an incredible job the Children’s Hospital is doing,” I added, a plug for the charityevent I’d been forced to go to after losing a bet with my partner. We usually alternated attending such ridiculous functions, but I’d been stuck with this one. I loathed being forced into small talk with pompous assholes pretending to care about children.

All the wealthy participants were doing was networking, determined to remain top dog in whatever industry they were in. I’d stayed the obligatory forty-five minutes listening to their whining. Not a minute more. There was little I tolerated less than stupidity.

“Yes, well, I’m certain the women of St. Louis would prefer talking about you.” She flashed her pearly whites before pursing her lips. A clear invitation.

I was finished with the ridiculous conversation and the blonde’s flirting techniques as she batted her fake eyelashes.

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