Page 30 of Break My Rules

Until I think about the fact that we just have two people left: Max and Hugh. Also my longtime friends. Also unthinkable that they could be to blame.

Soon enough, Tessa joins me, dressed down in jeans and a familiar college sweatshirt. She’s heading back to Oxford for the week, to attend her classes, while I stay here in London to check in with things at Ashford Pharma. “What happened to all your new clothes?” I ask, sliding food onto a plate for her, and setting it down beside the coffee I’ve just brewed. “The credit card company called to check I hadn’t been robbed by a woman with exquisite taste.”

She laughs. “They’re lovely, but… I don’t want to show up for class in couture,” Tessa says, diving into the food. She shoves a piece of toast in her mouth and talks around it. “You know everyone else dresses down, I don’t want to stand out.”

“Tough,” I tell her, adding orange juice to her spread. “You always do, just by walking into the room.”

Tessa rolls her eyes again. “Do you think I can make it back for my nine a.m. lecture?” she asks, changing the subject. Clearly, she’s not comfortable with compliments, which is crazy to me. I’ve been singing her praises since the moment I walked in on her impromptu break-in, during the Ashford welcome tea.

I knew she was trouble then; I just didn’t realize how sweet that trouble would be.

I check my watch. “I already called the car, but it’ll be close,” I note. “Why not skip it, and spend the morning here with me, instead? I’ll have you back to Oxford by noon… after at least three orgasms,” I add with a smirk.

She grins back. “Only three? You must be getting bored of me.”

Bored? Fuck, she has no idea how obsessed I’m getting. Nobody else could drive me so crazy, practically yelling right there in the street last night—or send me out of my mind with her wanton moans. But I know, as much as she says she trusts me now, she’s still skittish. She’s spent so long alone with her grief and anger, her defenses are a mile high. If I’m going to show her just how good we could be together, I need to take it slow.

So, I give her a smoldering grin, and play it cool. “Well, you are rather predictable,” I tease, using her own favorite insult against me. “Tessa Peterson, just your ordinary, average kind of girl. Run of the mill, even,” I add, flashing to the first night at the Midnight party where she spread her thighs for me in the darkness, and moaned like a goddess, working herself into a frenzy for a room of strangers.

For me.

“What you see is what you get,” she agrees, a flirty smile playing on her lips. “I mean, I wouldneverbe the kind of woman who wears French silk panties under her jeans. The kind that you could just slip aside when you bend me over…”

Fuck.

Lust surges, and I reach for her, but Tessa ducks away with a giggle. “Not now,” she scolds with a wink. “I have a lecture to get to. And you have a busy week ahead, too, thinking about exactly what you’re going to do to me this weekend.” She leans up on her tiptoes, and whispers hotly in my ear. “And yes, in case you were wondering, the bra matches, too.”

And then she dances away, grabs her toast and her bag, and leaves.

And I go take one hell of a cold shower.

Without Tessahere to distract me, there’s no avoiding my commitments, so I finally head into central London, to the glass and chrome monstrosity that is the Ashford Pharma HQ. Subtlety is not my father’s style, at least, not when it comes to business, and so the new construction rears up above the historic streets, with sweeping views of the river, and grey skies beyond.

I pass security with a nod in the lobby and take the elevator up to the executive floor. Then I pause, looking around. My father isn’t here, he’s recuperating at the family estate down in Sussex, and I can’t say I’m familiar with any of the other staff. I’ve made it a point to steer well clear of the family business.

Of any family business, full stop.

But with my father out of commission after his heart attack, I know there’s no more avoiding my official duties as eldest son and heir.

I find Robert in his office, frowning at a stack of files. “Nice view,” I comment, strolling in.

He looks at me in surprise. “Saint. What… What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry, I must have gotten confused, I was looking for the bar,” I joke, looking around.

“It’s nine in the morning,” Robert sighs.

“All the more reason to crack open a bottle of something strong.”

Christ, this office is more like a prison cell. It’s all bland and corporate, his desk positioned facing away from the windows, so nothing will distract him from his computer screen. But then again, Robert always was the hardworking one. He even has family photos lined up on a credenza, smiling happily with our parents.

And a picture of Edward, too, hiking some mountain terrain.

I pause over the frame, feeling the echo of a decade-old grief.You should be here, big brother. Not me.

Never me.

But things don’t turn out the way we plan, so I place the photo frame back, and turn back to Robert with a gesture of surrender. “I’m here to help,” I explain. “Dad is going to be in recovery a while longer, and even after the doctors give him the all-clear, he’ll have to scale way back.”

---