Breaking All the Rules (9 page)

              “A lot,” He shrugged as she turned back to him. “I’m working on it, though. Give me a few more years.”

              She leaned into him, “How do you do it?”

              “It’s in my blood…. my dad is an investment banker.”

              Mia tilted up, surprised by the mention of his father- a tiny glimpse into his personal life. When she was around Benson he was in work mode or sex mode, there was no mention of the little things in between. Though he was cautious about it, he had opened up, just a little.

              She hoped he wouldn’t ask her about her father. He knew better. In a Mia induced high, Benson had gathered all the information he could on her. He knew where she grew up, where she attended college and all about her father’s fatal motorcycle accident. He had taken a curve too widely, too quickly. Mia was too young. It was hard to find information on her from that point until she arrived in New York, even with the help from a Ward Industry tech. It was like she had disappeared for four years, only to appear in the Big Apple shortly after her eighteenth birthday.

              “I don’t think I’m dressed for La Bocco,” She mused, glancing down at herself. She hadn’t wanted to get out of bed that morning, let alone wear anything but sweats and a baggy shirt. She settled for the most low maintenance outfit she could find in her closet, a pair of black slacks paired with a lightweight red blouse featuring big white polka dots she’d found at a vintage shop. She didn’t even wear heels, just a plain pair of black flats. It definitely didn’t seem like the correct attire for a swanky Italian restaurant.

              Benson seemed to think otherwise, “You look so good I don’t know if I’ll have an appetite.”

              “Think of how terrible it’ll look if you don’t eat the food at your own restaurant.”

              “I can’t help the fact that I’ll be distracted.”

              His eyes twinkled with amusement as he grinned at her. How did a man so beautiful even exist? Baggy eyes and all, Benson was a model of perfection. She was contemplating telling him how good he looked with facial hair when the door to the limo opened. Victor was waiting as Benson climbed out, and then helped Mia, clutching her tight as they strolled into the stunning building with ease.

              La Bocco was the definition of fine dining.  As Benson exchanged brief words with an attendant, Mia drunk in the beauty and elegance of the restaurant. The shiny marble floors were a piece of art in themselves, the boxy mosaic highlighting shades of brown, black, and cream. Those colors flourished around them. The walls were the delicious cream color from the floor, accented with ornate sconces that mocked the light fixtures that hung from the ceiling with breathless grace. A display of stunning fresh flowers were nestled near the entrance, and Mia could smell their sweet nectar wafting over her. A majestic staircase was just feet away, wrought iron railing curving around it as it led to a second floor. The stairs were a solid cream stone. On either side of them were two half walls carved from heavy oak. The wood bore a delicate wood carving. Further than the walls were tables, all full of men in suits and women in expensive designer dresses. Mia tried to wear her business casual outfit proudly alongside the swanky bankers and their trophy wives.

              “Don’t get lost in your head tonight, precious,” Benson muttered in her ear, his tongue flicked her earlobe with nonchalance.

              She was silent but strong as he led her up the castle-like staircase to the second floor. It mocked the ground floor is design and layout, though there were far less tables and those that were there were spread apart as if to ensure privacy. Knowing exactly where he was going, Benson led Mia to their table, politely nodding at his acquaintances as they passed by.

              With Benson across from her, Mia eased into her chair. He looked like he was in his element. He was pure power, radiating confidence and sex from his seat. He watched her watch him, keeping his smile to himself as he tried to analyze what exactly she was looking for. They were interrupted by the server who was exceptionally nervous around Benson. They ordered their wine and Benson let Mia look over the menu, offering brief suggestions and descriptions of the food until she had decided on a
grilled Branzino with roasted cauliflower and nuts. He stuck with his normal venison with stuffed apples and cranberry sauce.

              They talked over their wine and then their food, sharing details of their work days. Benson was working on finalizing the venue set to open the next weekend, and he tried not to mention how displeased he was going to be to see Grant Bell. She talked about the wild life of a band manager. She left out all the parts where
she
was the one partying, drinking, and flirting with every guy she could get her hands on. Instead she talked about trashed hotel rooms and flat tires on the sides of highways. She told him about how she’s visited every state but Hawaii and Alaska, and she’d spent a weekend in Mexico on vacation. They talked about Lora and her job at the university. Neither could gauge what was so interesting about Colonial American History. Benson’s foot rubbed up and down Mia’s leg the entire time under the cloak of the draped table cloth.

              It was almost normal. Almost domestic. His fingertips would graze hers, sending tingling bolts of heat to rest between her legs. When their eyes met, she conveyed her complete and utter infatuation with the man as delicately as she possibly could. He’d give her looks that conveyed his thirst for her body, his desire to throw her down and slide in and out of her until the sun came up. She didn’t blush, but instead shot the look right back.

              They were nearly done with their meal. They’d spent more time talking and exchanging sweet glances than focusing on the scrumptious delicacies on their plates. Benson had been right about being distracted.

              “Mia Barnes, what an absolute pleasure.”

              The voice was laced with sarcasm. The two turned to see a middle aged man approaching their table. She recognized him instantly. Nathan Barker was think and lanky. Even his tailored suits couldn’t hide the lack of definition in his body. His gray hair was slicked to the side. A long face riddled with arrogance, he was a display of everything Mia hated.

              “The pleasure’s all mine, Nathan.” Her eyes flashed at Benson, whose face lacked any trace of emotion. “Benson Ward, Nathan Barker of Barker Records.”

              Benson and Nathan shook and Nathan eyed the pair, “What a spectacle seeing the two of you together.”

              “How so?” Benson pressed, an eyebrow cocked and his lips thin. He reeked of Alpha Male. The intimidation barely affected Nathan who was always too wrapped up in himself to take to any sort of threat.

              “Mia, I’ve heard you’re doing quite well over at Monarch. I see sleeping your way to the top is doing wonders for your career.”

              Benson’s hands balled tightly at his side and his jaw hardened. Mia gave him a reassuring smile and looked at Nathan. She’d encountered him before. She’d encountered a dozen people accusing her of sleeping her way to the top, especially when Charlotte’s Drive decided to sign with Monarch and not Barker. Her relationship with Grant was big news in the music industry- an even bigger story when the two split. The rumors flew about who her next conquest would be.

              “It’s great to see you’re still insecure about a woman being successful in a male dominated industry, Barker. Or could it be that you’re worried about your own failing libido and you’re projecting your lack of a sex life on me?”

              Nathan turned sharply and walked out with slumped shoulders. Mia smiled at her victory. She let the nasty comments get to her at first. She had worked her way through the industry just as everyone else had. She’d booked bands and bartended through college, and when she graduated with her degree in Public Relations with a minor in Marketing, she was a perfect candidate for Monarch Records. Grant
had
helped her land an interview, but he had no other influence on her career other than the nasty comments their relationship generated.

              Flashing her eyes over at Benson, Mia could see he was still deep in thought. He hadn’t even cracked a smile when she insulted Nathan. Had she embarrassed him? She wasn’t too versed on the etiquettes of the wealthy. She attended Monarch’s masquerade balls for Halloween and launch parties every year, but she was sure that was a far cry from charity events and swanky balls. Yup, she had definitely offended Benson is some way. They finished shortly after Nathan left, leaving the restaurant without saying but a few words to one another. They slide coolly into the awaiting limo.

              Benson was present, but he was not there. His eyes looked everywhere but hers. They would focus out the window then in his hands. His mouth had been pulled tight since Nathan approached them, the veins in his neck strained. His hands were still a tight white ball at his side. Mia watched the ticking time bomb next to her wondering when he’d blow.

              “Are you embarrassed to have been seen with me?” She finally asked meekly, afraid of the answer.

              “
Mia
.”

              “I didn’t sleep my way to the top. I’ve worked hard for what I have-”

              “Be quiet,” He hissed, closing the distance between the two. He hovered over her, his body sending out waves of heat that flushed her skin. “Do you think that I believe that, Mia?”

              “I don’t know what to think, Benson,” She tried to slip from his grasp but it was an impossible battle. “We were having a wonderful night until Barker came over. You have barely said three words to me since.”

              He kissed Mia like the world was ending. Maybe it was. She was oblivious to everything but the way his hard body felt against hers. She’d been so eager for him. She was drunk on his kisses. He whispered a string of words into her ear as he nibbled on it. It sounded foreign to her, the way his sweet nothings hit her core. They were attached to one another the entire drive to Mia’s apartment. Benson’s hands never strayed from under her shirt. It was such an
un-Benson
thing to do that when the limo lingered at her door, she pulled back with a rugged breath and looked at him hard.

              He was still as glossy as he was when they’d first gotten into the car, just as hardened and distant as he was for the tail end of their evening. When he wasn’t pressed into her like she gave him the air he needed to survive, Benson was as cold as stone. He wasn’t the same man that nibbled on her ear and made her heart swell with promises moments earlier. Abruptly, she drew back and grabbed her purse, trying to bypass him to get out of the limo.

              Benson didn’t stop her.

Chapter Five

              Tuesday was a blur. Much like the Monday before, Mia refused getting out of bed until the last possible minute. She had quarantined herself in her bed with a never-ending loop of depressing songs playing from her laptop.

Music had always been there for Mia. It helped her through her father’s death and the blur of the few years that followed. The scene swallowed her whole. Life faded away when she was packed tightly in a dirty basement or club, exchanging sweat with everyone around her as they thrashed to the raw music on stage. She’d run away and follow local bands on tour, doing whatever she could to stay out of her step-father’s house. The police always found her. They always took her back to the shell despite her desperate pleas. She could never tell them
why
just that she
couldn’t
. She ran one too many times and ended up in a mental rehabilitation center for an entire summer. Nearly ten years later she wasn’t sure what was worse, the abuse at home or the truths she faced at the facility.

              Despite running frequently during her teenage years, she managed to keep steady grades. She wasn’t a perfect student. She was too busy hiding from her life around her to strive for the control she needed. By some stroke of magic she stayed still long enough to not stir any trouble and get accepted to NYU. New York was the musical release she needed. Every night a new club, a new band. She fell in to the scene, and Aaron Hart, fast and hard.

              It took a slap in the face and the hand of a friend to help her climb out of the hole she’d so willingly crawled into. She’d almost gone straight from Aaron to Grant. Grant had helped her flourish. He helped her move on, just to break her in the end. And through all of it she had music. For Mia, there was a playlist for every emotion, mood, and event. Music was her crutch. That is why she was ruthless in the industry. She needed music just as much as it needed her.

              So when it occasionally kept her up hours past her bedtime so she could cry her soul onto a pillow that still faintly smelled of Benson, Mia let it. Tuesday she skipped the makeup, not caring about anything but crawling back into bed at the end of the day. She donned another pair of black slacks and a plain black blouse with a white peter pan collar. Her hair was still wet when she left for work.

              Her breath caught when the sleek Bentley SUV was waiting for her on the curb. She graciously took the car, hoping Benson would be waiting inside. He wasn’t. She could find no trace of him inside the luxury vehicle. The car was there again after work, and again, Mia accepted hoping he’d be waiting like he had the day before. She was met with silence and an empty vessel. Her ride home was full of shifting emotions. Benson captivated her and then set her aside until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He cared for her safety enough to give her rides to and from work, but he didn’t care that she was going insane not hearing his voice or feeling his hardness against her.

              Once inside her studio, Mia stripped and climbed into her bed, sleeping until early the next morning. She only moved to go to the bathroom and force water down her dry throat so she could call off work. She slept a few more hours, waking just past ten feeling like a patchwork doll. As she lie down to fall back asleep, Mia’s gut churned.
Look what he’s doing to you. This isn’t you, Mia. You’ve wallowed enough. You’ve got the day off, go enjoy yourself.
She perked up with interest. It had been a long time since she’d pulled off a Ferris Bueller day. She had planned on staying in and sleeping until she felt better, but the beautiful singing of a solo spa day sung in her head. She was out the door within twenty minutes.

              Mia had just finished her facial and was relaxing in a sensual rose petal bath when her phone rang from her pile of clothes next to her. She swore, swiftly kicking herself for not leaving it in the secured locker rooms. She answered just before it sent to voicemail, rushing a hello when she saw her boss’s name on the screen.

              “Feeling any better?” Anne Rope, the head of PR at Monarch Records questioned.

              “Getting there,” Mia admitted as she wiggled her bare ass against the smooth wood grain of the tub.

              “Great because I’ve got some exciting news for you.”

              “I can’t come in,” Mia protested.

              “Good because I don’t need you to,” She could feel Anne’s smile on the other line. For having to deal with nonstop crises from rock stars and Monarch executives alike, Anne was an overly chipper woman. “I
do
need you to stop by Ward Industries at 1:10 for a meeting. Brett from design will be there.”

              “Great, so why do I have to show up?”

              “Because it’s your project.”

              “Anne-”

              “It’ll just be a few minutes. I’ll have Brett pick you up and back home within no time. I’d prefer you to stay home and get better or figure out whatever your problem is because your work is seriously lacking, but you’re the lead on this event. You’ve got to go. If it’s worth anything, you’re getting major brownie points.”

              “Just what I need,” Mia sighed. “Brett doesn’t need to chauffer me, I’ll be there. See you tomorrow, Anne.”

              Her boss ended the call and Mia groaned, reaching for the fluffy white towel at her side. Ward Industries was the last place she wanted to be. In fact, she was content with her steaming bath. She looked at her sweats and faded NYU tee on the ground. It was totally not acceptable for a grocery trip, let alone a business meeting. She checked her phone for the time, squirming when she noted she wouldn’t have time to run home and change. She couldn’t conduct business in sweats- she couldn’t see Benson looking like she’d just rolled out of bed.

              Like she’d had a stunning epiphany, Mia grinned. She was going to fight fire with fire. Benson told her she drove him mad. She was going to
really
drive him mad when she strolled in with confidence wearing a refreshed face and a bombshell outfit. She was going to ignore him and focus on the work. She was going to beat Benson at his own game.

              Mia left the spa and went directly to the first store she recognized on the strip. Not having much time, she pulled from multiple racks and sections of the store. She bought a new lingerie set; a strappy black bra that barely covered her nipples with matching panties. Knowing how much Benson had enjoyed her stockings the first day they had met; she bought the garter and stockings that went with the set as well. She felt like a vixen as she pulled the delicate new hose over her legs and clipped them in place. Over her sexy new set, she wore a high waisted slate grey pencil skirt that hugged all the right curves, stopping just shy of her knee. She picked a thick white crop top that left a sliver of her midriff bare. It pained her to pick an understated black shoe, knowing how perfect her Louboutin shoes would finish the ensemble. A small black clutch rounded off her look.

Mia was thankful one of the employees could refer to her a salon close by. Despite the eager worker’s pleas for a thick slab of makeup and an overdone due, Mia stuck with keeping her hair down and waved to perfection, tapering off at the end in sharp definition. Her makeup was relatively neutral, the slightly winged eyeliner and eye makeup pulled out the crystal green color of her eyes. A semi-glossy nude lipstick finished off the entire look. Despite the hug of the skirt, the seduction of the stockings and the thin section of her pale midriff showing, the look read elegance.

Known for her punctuality, Mia strolled into the glass conference room on the tenth floor of Ward Industries four minutes late. She would accept slight tardiness for a jaw dropping entrance. She got what she wanted. The two suits who worked for Ward stiffened and coughed as she strode in with confidence. She could feel the heat of Benson’s eyes on her as she grinned at everyone, taking a seat next to Brett.

“Sorry. I was preoccupied this morning.”

“I thought you were sick?” Brett questioned with a raised eyebrow as he fought a smile. He was a few years older than she, wearing a plaid shirt under his blazer. His blonde hair and soft features made him appear more feminine than Mia liked her men, but there was no denying he was attractive.

“Something like that,” She winked, feigning a lure of confident sex appeal she hoped was working.

“I’m glad you found time for us in your hectic schedule, Miss Barnes,” Benson’s jaw was tight, as it was often around her. He spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes hard on her as he stared.

It almost pained her to look at him. She was surprised to see that he had on a slate gray three piece suit, the color just a shade darker than that of her skirt. His tie matched the sharp blue of his eyes, and the expensive gold cufflinks on his wrists glimmered every time they caught the light. He had shaved the stubble from his face, and she couldn’t decide which looked better. With no bags under his eyes and a cool icy stare, Mia wagered his thirst for her had passed. Her heart slowly cracked and split as he gave her the most insignificant look, then turned to the stack of papers in front of him. She’d tried to fight fire with fire but got burnt in the process. She’d gotten burnt badly.

Benson slid a tiny stack at her, his long fingers no longer lingering on the table waiting for a chance to brush against her. She sunk in her seat and looked at the first page, just the final details and schedule for the event, the chatter of the men around her weaving in and out of her ears. Nobody asked her opinion and she didn’t offer. The rhythmic tap of Benson’s pen brought her out of her funk. She didn’t even try to hold a face of pseudo confidence as she looked at him. She was startled to see that the conference room was empty, aside from the two of them. She hadn’t even noticed anyone leave.

Suddenly she was insecure. She didn’t have the shield of others there to protect her from whatever could be said.

“I’m sorry I was late,” Her gaze fixated on the papers in front of her, Charlotte’s Drive and Burnside’s logos printed clearly side by side.

“I was concerned when Victor told me you didn’t leave your apartment this morning,” Benson’ words were tight.

“Why are you doing this?” She bit her lip hard so she wouldn’t cry. The tart taste of the lipstick flooded her senses. “Just… stop sending him by. We shouldn’t have to see each other until next weekend and then you’ll be done with me forever.”

“I don’t want to be done with you.”

She finally looked at him. In a room with other people, Benson Ward had seemed collected and suave. Alone with her, he looked confused and angry. She knew the feeling well.

“I thought you’d be there when I got off work yesterday.”

“Why are you wearing that, Mia?”

“Why does it concern you, Benson?” She mocked back.

“They were all fucking you with their eyes.”

She pushed away from the glass table and stood, crossing her arms over her stomach, “At least someone was. Maybe they’d spend the night or, I dunno, be more emotionally responsive. Follow me up to my apartment after kissing my lips raw.”

“You got out without an invitation.”

“You’re not the type of man who waits for invitations, Benson. You take what you want. Over and over again until there isn’t anything left. Just… nothing. Just nothing, Benson. Thank you for royally screwing up everything I’ve worked so hard for. I’ll see you around.”

True to his nature, Benson didn’t follow her.

Mia called a cab, gruffly giving directions as she pulled her phone from the slim clutch. She opened up her text messages and clicked on Lora’s name.

I’m sorry I’ve been so weird the past few days. Dinner tonight? My treat.

I can’t do dinner; I’ve got a date tonight! Which you’d know if you talk to me. I’ve tried calling you like five times. I’ve got class until 4 and I’m supposed to meet Zach at 6:30. Coffee at LuLu’s around 4:15?

It’s still my treat! See you then.

The cab pulled to a stop in front of an apartment building that was not hers. She calmly paid the driver and climbed out, flashing a friendly grin at the doorman and front staff desk as she proceeded to the elevator. She swiftly knocked on the heavy door on the sixth floor of the building. She could hear the steady strum of a guitar on the other side, warming her stomach and calming the remaining butterflies she’d had from Benson. There was a shuffle and a loud swear that swept under the door and then she was face to face with Tyler Abbott.

He blinked a few times, taken aback by her presence at the apartment Monarch Records rented for them. He was shirtless, wearing only his signature pair of dark jeans. She’d never seen him like that before. He looked good. Really good.
Not as good as Benson.
After a long pause he took a step back and extended his arm, inviting her inside. The ever exciting vocalist and lead guitarist for the band, Colin Andrews, was sitting with his legs draped over an armchair as he strummed out an acoustic version of one of their songs. On the couch beside him, the band’s other guitarist, Tim Capperstone- known as Cap to everyone- followed along. Ryan Langhurst, the bass player, had his face buried in a bowl of cereal. A quick scan didn’t reveal Max Flynn, their playboy drummer.

“Don’t you get sick of those songs?” Mia announced, and the three boys who hadn’t even noticed her presence looked up with jaws agape.