Breaking His Rules (6 page)

“How long have you been waiting?” I asked. “Not long I hope.”

The car disappeared around the corner and Mason turned his direct stare on me. “Why are you avoiding my question?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I’m not. I’m just so happy to see you.” Looping my arm through his again, I gave him one of my sweetest smiles. “It’s been almost a year. Can’t a girl be happy to see her big brother? Are you hungry after your trip? I can make you something. Or we could go out to dinner.”

My brother’s eyes sparkled with laughter and the corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t let it go. “I know what you’re doing and it won’t work. Who was that?”

Crossing my arms, I stared at him with pressed lips. So this was how he wanted to play it? Guess old habits died hard. He could be tenacious. Every nerve ending in my body tingled with the need to answer him; a trained response from years of obeying the men in my family. But I’d be damned if I gave into the overwhelming urge. “None of your business.”

The sardonic lift of Mason’s eyebrow sent a little tremor down my spine, but I held fast and strong. Wealthy, arrogant men no longer ruled my life.
Except when I let them in the bedroom, like last night.
But that was a different story. I hadn’t moved to Chicago and started my life over just for Mason to come here one year later, thinking he could boss me around.

We were venturing into new territory. My stomach twisted as he contemplated me with rigid shoulders and an unwavering stance. His crystal blue eyes bored into mine. It was like staring into a mirror—each of us cold and implacable. Despite the agony of watching the tick working in his cheek muscle, I resisted the urge to wring my hands. Barely.

“You can tell me when you’re ready,” he said, reaching out to cup my face in his hand. The corners of his lips turned up. “I’m happy to see you, too, Sammy. And I want to hear all about this new job of yours.”

Turning my cheek into the warmth of his touch, I embraced the unconditional love he offered. Mason was always there for me when I needed him, and he possessed the uncanny ability to know when to back off. He wasn’t going to force the matter. At least not for now. I felt on top of the world. Grabbing his hand, I led him into the building.

The feeling of elation lasted the entire trip up the stairs to my second floor apartment, until it dawned on me that Mason wasn’t going to like my living arrangements. He wouldn’t fall in love with the charming wood floors or the cute little courtyard view from my window. He was in for a shock. My fingers shook slightly as I unlocked the door and held it open for him to enter.

Maybe he would surprise me.
Or maybe not.

He stood stock-still with his hands shoved into the pockets of his charcoal grey trousers as his eyes roamed the tiny space, taking in my faux cream leather sofa bed with chaise, simple cherrywood side and coffee tables, and my favorite reading chair. I’d splurged on a set of three small paintings from a street artist, each depicting Chicago city life in vibrant colors, but Mason didn’t even seem to notice their existence.

“Television in the bedroom?” he asked, turning to head down a small hallway.

He paused outside the single door at the end and peeked into my bathroom. My heartbeat kicked up a notch when he closed his eyes and drew in a breath, forming a thin line with his lips. The fact that my whole studio apartment could fit into Mason’s bathroom was a shock to him.

“Sammy…” he whispered, the single word rife with pity.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Of all the reactions I was prepared for, pity wasn’t one of them. Walking up from behind, I slipped my arms around him for a bear hug. He was here and he wasn’t freaking out. Yet. But I knew my brother well enough to know that turmoil was roiling in his gut.

“I’m happy here,” I said, snuggling my cheek against his broad back.

“How can that be true?” He turned in my arms and glared down. “Are you done yet making your point? Say yes so we can get the hell out of here. I can have the jet ready within the hour.”

My body stiffened and I stepped back. Was that why he had come? To drag me home?

“Come home with me,” he pleaded. His voice cracked under the pressure and I knew—knew with certainty he hadn’t come with the intent on dragging me home. His reaction was too raw. Holding my hands, he gave them a little shake. “You don’t have to live this way.”

I jerked away from his hold and strode into the living room, plopping down on my favorite chair. Tears burned in the back of my eyes. I had to keep a safe distance from his warm embrace and seductive words. The past year had been really, really hard. No family. No true friends…at least not in the beginning. And no real comforts.

Burying my face in my hands, I fought the urge to cry. Why did Mason have the ability to tear down my carefully constructed walls? Living paycheck-to-paycheck was stressful. Beyond anything I’d ever imagined while I’d lived in my rose-colored world and romanticized living on my own. But what my brother would never understand was that difficult as it was to support myself, it was still preferable to going home. Going home meant facing my father, and an arranged marriage. That was not an option.

Mason followed me back into the main living area and glanced into the tiny kitchen. My cat skittered through his legs and took a flying leap to land in the middle of my lap. Brandy curled in my lap and eyed Mason warily.

My brother returned the sentiment. His brow rose. “Since when do you own a cat?”

“Since I moved to Chicago,” I said, rubbing behind her ears. “She keeps me company.”

“Because you’re lonely.”

My head snapped up. “Because I live alone. Those are two different things.”

Mason strode over to the single set of windows overlooking the back courtyard. He leaned his shoulder against the wall and shook his head without muttering a word. Though he didn’t need to, because his thoughts were written all over his face.

This wasn’t the way I envisioned my reunion with my brother. I had to get things back on track. He shouldn’t pity me. Not when my life was on the precipice of getting better. If only he had waited another month or two to visit me. “Why don’t you come sit down? I’ll tell you about my new job at Midnight Blue. It’s the hottest nightclub in town. Pretty soon I’ll be raking in the dough.”

He eyed the sofa and lifted his brow. “That your bed?”

Glancing from the sofa to my brother, I felt the tug of a frown on my mouth and wondered where he was going with his question. How could I reassure him that everything was fine? I was fine. “It’s quite comfortable and practical. There’s a storage unit under the chaise for my bedding and pillows.”

“And when you have guests over, that’s what they sit on?” he asked, barely keeping the disdain from his tone of voice.

Oh, my God. He was such a snob and had no clue how ninety-five percent of Americans lived. Okay, maybe that wasn’t accurate. Arguably most Americans had a bedroom and a bed, but studio apartments were normal in large cities. I would not feel ashamed of my home. It was lovely.

Moving onto the sofa, I pointed to my reading chair. “Sit!”

A satisfied grin tugged at his lips and he sat. “Midnight Blue. Hottest nightclub in town, you say?”

I nodded and pulled my legs under me on the couch. “I’ve only been there a week, but I’m loving it so far. Everyone who’s anyone is clamoring for an invitation from the owner to The Lounge. It’s an exclusive bar on the second floor.”

“Sounds like something I’d like to see while I’m here.” Mason lifted his brow. “Can you get me an invitation? You know the owner?”

I swallowed hard and dammit if my face didn’t flush beet red at his innocent question. ’Cause there was nothing innocent about my relationship with Damon. My body trembled at the memory of his mouth tasting me…everywhere. Hell yes, I knew the owner.

“We’ve met,” I said, keeping my eyes focused on Brandy as I stroked her back. “I’m not comfortable asking. I’ve only worked there a week.”

I ventured a glance at my brother. He was watching me closely as he tapped his fingers against his knee. “Who owns it? Maybe I know someone who knows him. Or her.”

Shit.
How did I dig myself into this hole? The last person I wanted my brother to meet right now was my boss. But there was no way to avoid his question. “Damon Baxter.”

Mason pulled out his smartphone and began tapping away. I closed my eyes and groaned. When I finally gathered my courage and met his gaze, he sniggered.

“Looks familiar.”

“Fuck you,” I said with a smirk.

“Not me.” He returned with a grin. “But maybe you did him. Is that why you don’t want to ask?”

My jaw dropped and I covered my face. This was so not the conversation I wanted to be having with my brother. Though I hadn’t given him enough credit earlier. He wasn’t shocked or freaking out. Far from it. When it became clear I had no intention of answering his question, he took mercy on me.

“Look,” Mason said, running a hand through his thick, black hair as he stood. “I’m going to settle into my hotel room. I’m staying at the W on Lakeshore. I’ll be back at seven thirty to pick you up for dinner.” His gaze traveled over me and he sighed. “You look like you could use a decent meal. Wear a nice dress. I assume you still own one?”

It amazed me sometimes how he could flip from lighthearted humor to borderline asshole in seconds. I opened my mouth, ready to let him have it. He held up his hand with a fierce look. “No arguments.” He barked. “You can let me spoil you while I’m here. What are big brothers for?”

He’d reached his limit and I knew better than to push him over the edge. Setting Brandy aside, I jumped out of my seat and threw my arms around his neck. “Okay,” I said, pecking him on the cheek. He was trying hard to let me live on my own and by my own rules, and I loved him for it. “Can’t wait to see where you take me.”

*

A thrill of
excitement filled my belly as the elevator whisked us up seventy flights to the top of Lake Point Tower where we would dine at Cité. I hadn’t had the pleasure yet, but the view from the ceiling to floor windows was said to be unparalleled. How could it not be with the Chicago skyline on display?

My foot tapped against the floor and I glanced at Mason with a nervous smile. He had suggested the restaurant on a whim, and as I scanned the curious faces sharing the elevator ride up, I wasn’t feeling confident of securing a table. My brother didn’t share in my jitters, because he said money talked. And Mason had a lot of money.

“You look beautiful tonight, Sammy,” he said, taking in the vibrant purple of my knee-length dress. And then his eyes narrowed on me. “But you’re showing off more skin than I like for my sister.”

I glanced down at my sleeveless dress with a critical eye. The silky fabric clung to my curves and the V-neck plunged deep on my chest. Even so, the dress was elegant and appropriate for an evening at a fine restaurant. With strappy silver high heels giving me a vertical boost, I could look Mason in the eyes without craning my neck.

“Meaning you’d be perfectly happy with it if I was your date?” I teased. “Stop acting like an overprotective brother.”

He winked and flashed me a boyish grin. “And you’re too thin,” he added. “Promise me you’ll eat more than a salad.”

“You think I’m stupid? Tonight’s on you, so I’m ordering the most expensive steak on the menu. Plus dessert.”

He chuckled and guided me out of the elevator with his hand resting on the middle of my back. Mouth-watering aromas lingered in the air along with the soft banter of a restaurant full of delighted guests. We were in for a fun night.

“Let me guess.” Mason ventured with a smirk. “You’re ordering Crème—”

The words died on his lips, and my gaze followed his to the elevator on the opposite side of the restaurant entrance where two gentleman stepped out with their heads bowed in deep conversation. By the cut of their hand-tailored suits and formal ties, I assumed they were here on business. What had caught Mason’s attention that was so distracting? I let my gaze travel up to their faces and froze.

The floor dropped out from under me, and I grasped Mason’s arm for support.

Playing Games

I
stumbled back
toward our elevator, and in my haste to flee, I caught my heel on something. A woman’s howl of pain rang in my ear. The two men exiting the elevator glanced up and their surprise at seeing me registered simultaneously. Blood drained from my face, leaving me feeling cold and empty inside. It was too late to slip away unnoticed.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, turning to apologize face-to-face with the woman I’d trampled on. “Please forgive me. I should’ve looked where I was going.”

“No real harm done,” she replied with a grimace.

Taking a deep breath, I returned to Mason’s side. My gaze was drawn to a hint of silver threading in Damon’s tie that glinted in the soft lighting of the Cité foyer. It was the same blue and grey tie I’d watched him pull from his dresser as I sat naked in his bed. The memory brought a rush of heat to my cheeks. I lifted my face to meet his brazen stare.

His full lips tugged slightly upward in the right corner of his mouth for a fraction of a second, and I knew his thoughts had strayed in the same direction. The space between us crackled with energy, sending tingles of anticipation skittering across my skin. There was no denying I felt drawn to this man in a primal way. My fingers itched to grab him by the lapel of his jacket and pull his lips down on mine. Thursday couldn’t come soon enough.