Page 48 of Break My Rules

‘How about I bring something by for a quick break?’ I message, and a moment later, I get a thumbs up.

Perfect.

I stop by a deli nearby and grab some salads, then walk over to the impressive modern building that houses Ashford Pharma’s European headquarters. It’s a towering chrome and glass building, with a cavernous main lobby area buzzing with activity—and security. I’m hoping to surprise Saint as well, but when I tell the receptionist to call up to his office, I’m told he’s out to lunch with the accounting team.

“Do you have an appointment?” the man asks me, pleasantly icy.

“No, I’m supposed to meet someone. Imogen Alcott?” I offer, but he just stares back, unmoved.

“If she didn’t sign you in, I’m afraid I can’t help you. What extension number is she?”

“She doesn’t work here,” I’m trying to explain, when I catch sight of a familiar face. It’s Phillip McAlister, Wren’s nerdy coworker from the lab, just entering the building with a Thermos in one hand, and a security pass in the other. He’s dressed down in battered corduroy pants and a rumpled sweater, and I call over loudly. “Phillip? Hey!”

He stops, looking surprised to see me. “Tessa, what are you doing here?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting my friend, but she didn’t sign me in…”

“It’s OK,” he tells the receptionist, flashing his badge. “She’s with me.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, as I’m waved to the security barrier, and wait while a guard searches the food bags, too. “Are they hiding the Crown Jewels in here?” I joke, when I’m finally ushered through to meet Phillip on the other side.

“As good as,” he replies with a chuckle. “They house the VIP laboratory in the basement, so they keep things rather tight. All their precious trade secrets, and so forth.”

“Hence, the full-body pat down and armed guards,” I reply, as Phillip steers us to an elevator—and then has to swipe his badge and enter a few numbers just to get the damn doors to close. “What floor?” he asks.

“Um, executive level?” I guess.

“Fancy,” he grins, as the doors slide shut.

I laugh. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I say. “I thought you lived up in Oxford?”

“I do, but we’ve been summoned here to HQ for some big event,” Phillip explains, running a hand through his mop of curly brown hair. “We’re supposed to circulate and talk up the research. Using plain English,” he adds with a wry smile. “They keep stressing that part. No big science words.”

I smile. “Well, good luck. Is everything still going well?” I add. Phillip is under some serious non-disclosure agreements, but he’s hinted that their Alzheimer’s research is proving a big success, and the clinical trials for a new drug are going to revolutionize the field. My sister worked on the early phases of the research, and it’s nice to think she’s contributed to something that could change the world like this. “And by ‘everything,’ I mean the top-secret project you’re working on that I know absolutely nothing about,” I add with a grin.

Phillip smiles. “Hypothetically, if I was working on a top-secret project, that project would be going great,” he says.

“I’m glad.”

We reach the twentieth floor, and the doors slide open. It’s modern and luxurious up here, with stunning views of the city, and serious-looking executives having serious-looking meetings. Phillip lets out a whistle. “So this is how the other half lives,” he says, looking around. “Pretty sweet. But what brings you here? Are you not at Ashford College anymore?”

“I am, technically,” I reply, taking it in. “I’m just splitting my time. My boyfriend lives in London," I add, feeling a little self-conscious describing Saint like that for the first time. I barely blush when he gets me off in front of a crowded room, but sure, calling him my boyfriend gives me butterflies. “Hey, you probably know him,” I add, realizing I hadn’t put the pieces together when I saw Phillip last. “Saint—I mean, Anthony St. Clair.”

Phillip’s eyes bug out. “Your boyfriend is the rebel heir?”

I snort with laughter. “That’s what you call him?”

“Shit, don’t tell him,” Phillip says quickly, looking embarrassed. “It’s just a stupid nickname, around the lab. You know, because he refuses to get involved in the company.”

“Not anymore,” I report. “Since his father’s heart attack, he’s been working at the office. He’s here now, actually, helping out.”

“Wow, well… I hope you’re happy with him.” Phillip says slowly. It’s clear he knows the rest of Saint’s wayward reputation, but he doesn’t comment on that.

“I am,” I nod. “Very happy.”

And very turned on.

Phillip checks his watch. “I better get back to it,” he says. “Down in the basement, with the other science nerds. It was good running into you, though. Hey, did you ever find out more about that secret society you were looking for?” he adds, as he steps back onto the elevator.

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