Page 32 of Rulebreaker

Awkward Sunday Dinners, trying to keep my eyes away from her while playing Connect Four with Frankie, hanging at The Sapphire Room with her across the table from me yet completely out of reach.

Fucking. Hell.

“...and that’s why investing in GlobalTech will be a lucrative venture,” the blowhard says, dropping the remote that controls the slideshow on the table and sinking down into one of the leather armchairs that surround the conference table. “Any questions?” he asks and smirks–likely amused by his forthcoming joke of, “No? Great. I’ll get the paperwork.”

I don’t reply, just glance over at Briar and shake my head minutely.

She shakes it back, just as minutely. As usual, we’re completely on the same page.

Then, it’s likely a dick move, but I don’t care. Because I knew there was absolutely no way I would ever work with a guy who stared at Briar like she was a piece of meat, who was short with Jenny, my executive assistant who handles tasks that Briar doesn’t (like booking this room, like passing out the waterhe’d rudely rebuffed, like taking notes diligently through the useless presentation in case we need them later).

So, rude or not, I don’t say a word as I push back my chair and leave the room.

That’s answer enough to his bullshit.

But I know the team will give him another clear one.

Still, I lock eyes with our security guard on this floor, incline my head to the room, silently telling him to pay attention in case Boomer Blowhard tries to make a scene or gets in anyone’s face.

Then I’m striding into my office, shutting the door firmly behind me…

And I’m jumping right into my next meeting–this one online and not in person.

But it’s still just as agonizingly frustrating. And annoyingly, I don’t have anyone to turn my fury toward–there are no blowhards on the call, no one’s posturing, no one is even giving me answers I don’t want to hear.

It’s a perfectly normal status update.

And I still want to launch a chair through the plate glass windows that make up one wall of my corner office.

Something that doesn’t change as the call finishes up.

As the next one begins.

As my day slogs on.

Briar comes in and we touch base on our bombastic asshole from earlier, both of us on the same page, both of us needing to brainstorm where we go to next.

Not him or his company is the obvious answer.

But neither of us has had time to figure out the alternative.

“I’ll have a list of options to you by the end of the week,” she says as she gathers up her tablet and water bottle. “We’ll figure out how to make it work.”

“We always do,” I tell her. “And knock off early,”I order. “Take Frankie for ice cream or something. I’ll cover the facilities update.”

“That’s not?—”

“My job?” My mouth hitches up. “Of course it is. I own the company, remember?”

She scowls because I’m right…and maybe also because she’s not normally stymied so easily. She’s fierce on a normal day, a ballbuster on a good one, and maybe…a little softer since she mentioned going on a date with West.

Hmm.

I don’t like that.

I mean, I do. I want her to be happy…

But Briar is like my little sister.