Bending All the Rules (Billionaire Romance) (The A List Series)

  Bending All The Rules

  A List Book One

  Savannah Rylan

  Bending All The Rules

  Published By Savannah Rylan Books

  Copyright © 2015 Savannah Rylan

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places or events are entirely the work of the author. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or places is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Cover art by Cover Up Designs

  Chapter One:

  Breccan

  My body ached from head to toe. Every muscle had been pushed to its limit for the last three hours, and I was utterly spent. My trainer, Andre, had worked me out extra hard tonight, as I prepared to tackle my next film project. Apparently, the character was a dirty cop with a heart of gold, and for reasons unbeknownst to me, he was shirtless throughout most of the movie. I’m pretty sure the EP did this on purpose just to draw a larger female audience to the action flick.

  All I wanted was a hot shower and a bourbon. And not a Jim Beam or Wild Turkey or that other swill people drink in college. I wanted a Black Maple Hill 16-year-old Small Batch, one of the finest in the world. Luckily for me, there was a case of the stuff waiting for me at my Malibu beach house.

  I pulled my Tesla into the driveway, anxious to strip down, and already anticipating the serenity that awaited as hot water cascaded over my body, when I noticed a light on inside.

  Cutting the engine, I stepped out, and glanced across the street. Sure enough, my assistant Valerie’s beat up Honda was parked in her designated spot. “What the fuck is she doing here at this hour?” She wasn’t due until morning, and considering she hadn’t called or texted about a problem. I had no idea why she was there.

  I turned the knob and entered my house, expecting to see her there in a frazzled panic. She was always freaking out about one thing or another. Stepping out of my shoes, and down into the sunken living room, I scanned the area. The room was dark, but there was a light coming from the west wing of the house.

  My hands balled into fists as anger flared. She had better not be where the fuck I think she is… I stormed down the hallway, blood boiling. I turned the corner, idly praying I was wrong, that she wasn’t…

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I screamed.

  Valerie spun around, jumping at the sound of my voice. “Oh, Mr. Laughry. I’m so sorry… I—”

  “Answer me! What the fuck are you doing in this room?”

  She backed away, trembling, without realizing she was heading even further into the room. “I… I dropped… and the papers fell under… I know I’m not supposed to…”

  She continued backing into the room, not paying a bit of attention and coming dangerously close to knocking over a small wooden box that sat on the side table. I charged at her, causing her to yelp, and caught the trinket before it crashed to the ground.

  Valerie spun around, running from the room. I’d wanted to stop and check every inch on the space, make sure nothing was out of place, but I needed to deal with her first. I shut the door behind me, locking it tight, and followed her back into the main living room. “I gave you three rules, Valerie. Three fucking rules. What are they?”

  “Mr. Laughry, I know I shouldn’t have—”

  “Answer me!” I bellowed, the words echoing off the high ceilings.

  “Never make me—”

  “Count.”

  She sniffed. “One, never make me repeat myself. Two, never speak to anyone about you, and three, never go in that room.” The last word was almost imperceptible as she sobbed, still clutching the wrinkled papers in front of her.

  “You have broken two of my three rules tonight, haven’t you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Answer me!”

  “Yes, Mr. Laughry. I’m so very sorry.”

  “Get. Out.” I seethed.

  “If you could just give me another chance. I really need this job, Mr.—”

  The image of her in the room replayed over and over through my mind, my chest growing tighter each time I pictured her grimy fingers running over the precious items. “Get the fuck out of this house right now. Get your shit and go! Now! You’re fired.”

  She didn’t reply as she dropped the papers, tears streaming down her face, as she reached for her purse and made a beeline for the door, sobbing the entire way.

  I slammed the door behind her, locking the deadbolt and sighing. Fourth one, in as many months. Fuckin’ A. Simon was going to be livid.

  I pushed off the door, and made my way down the hall again. Fuck it. It didn’t matter how pissed Simon was. Some things were more important. I don’t care if I had to go through a hundred assistants. No one breaks my rules.

  Chapter Two

  Cora

  I stared into my refrigerator and sighed. It was nearly empty, save for some two-week-old leftover lo mein, and six ketchup packets from McDonalds. “This blows,” I murmured, closing the door.

  I ambled into the living room, and plopped down on my futon, which doubled as my bed, and dug into my purse, hoping to maybe find a granola bar I’d forgotten about. Hey, a girl can dream. I hit the motherload when I found not only a protein bar, but an apple from two days ago that I swiped from my brother’s house. Score!

  I placed my pathetic lunch on my lap, and turned on the TV, needing an escape, when a “thump, thump, thump” began through the wall. “Not again,” I whined, turning up the volume.

  “Oh! Oh! Ronaldo! Oh! Fuck me, baby. Yeah. Right there!”

  I aimed the remote at the TV, and turned it as high as it would go, but it still couldn’t drown out the moans of my neighbor, Cassidy. I swear, she was a rabbit in another life the way she needed to hump all day and night. And, of course, it wasn’t always the same guy. This week was Ronaldo. Last week was Andy. The week before that was Jamal. I swear, the girl had more stamina than the Energizer Bunny. I got tired just listening to her.

  Just as I was about to give up, and head to Starbucks to enjoy a free water with lemon (the only thing I could afford these days), my phone rang. Seeing my brother’s cheesy smile light up my screen, I swiped to answer. “Thank God,” I answered. “Hey, you wanna go out and grab a bite to eat?”

  Simon was an amazing big brother, he had been since I was born, always looking after me and making sure no one hurt me or teased me. In fact, he was the whole reason I’d moved to Los Angeles three months ago. I knew if we went out to dinner, he’d pay for sure. He’d just expense it.

  “Hey, sis. Um, I can’t right now. I have a million things on my plate. Can you come here? I’ll order some Chinese.”

  Visions of the moldy Lo Mein in my fridge filled my mind, and I gagged a little. “Um, can we do pizza instead?”

  “Sure. I’ll order from Bentallis. Be here in twenty?”

  I rolled my eyes. Ever since I moved to LA, I’d come to realize that everyone thought you can get anywhere in “twenty.” It didn’t seem to matter if it was five or fifteen miles away, to all Angelites, they’d see you in twenty.

  “Be right over.” I hung up, grabbing my keys and purse before heading out the door just as Cassidy was
really amping it up. “Yes, Yes. Ohmygod, ohmygod, Yes!”

  I rolled my eyes as I walked down the hallway, and headed for the stairs since the elevator was out of order—again. It was the fourth time in two weeks, but our shitty management didn’t seem to care that I had to walk up and down four flights of stairs every day. Oh, well. Maybe I’d lose a few pounds. My ass could certainly use it. Besides, living in this dump was only temporary until I was able to break into the industry. Or, so I kept telling myself.

  I’d only graduated college in the spring before, making every motion picture major’s dream of moving to LA and working in the industry come true. My brother, Simon, who was ten years older than me, had fluidly stepped into the world after he graduated, scooping up A-list talent with in a year of making the move from our small town outside of Cleveland, Ohio.

  I knew he could get me a job at his agency—and he’d offered several times—but I wanted to make it on my own accord, and not because people felt obligated to help his little sister. I’d even used my mother’s maiden name instead of our dad’s name so people wouldn’t even know we were related when they saw my resume.

  But, just because I didn’t want him getting me a job or helping with my rent didn’t mean I felt bad about swiping some of his food every now and again. It’s not like he would miss it, he didn’t even do his own shopping!

  I weaved through the LA traffic, and took the onramp for the 405. I would never understand how people put up with this traffic. I suppose the weather made up for it. Winters in Ohio were one thing I wouldn’t miss.

  My mom always said I should have been a theater major instead, but I had absolutely zero ambition to become an actor. Besides, I absolutely did not have the typical actress body, and I wasn’t funny enough to be cast as the “funny fat friend.” I was short, curvy, and damn proud of it. Besides, wasn’t a little junk in the trunk in vogue these days? Besides, who wanted to live on kale salads when they could have a nice, juicy steak instead? No, thank you. I’ll embrace my curves, and enjoy my meat, thank you very much.

  I pulled up to Simon’s condo, and pressed the button on the pass he gave me for the underground parking. After finding a spot, I took the elevator to his penthouse apartment, shaking my head at how differently we lived—not that I’d ever let him know how hard up I was. I’ve refused to even let him come over to my house. He’d flip his lid, or worse—call mom.

  I knocked on the door, suppressing a shiver at the thought. A few seconds later, he answered, holding a finger up, as he talked into his Bluetooth. “Uh, huh. Yeah, I know Brec, but listen…. No, I get it, I really do… uh huh….”

  He rolled his eyes, and I stifled a giggle. The first thing he explained to me when I told him I also wanted to be a talent agent was that the job was ninety percent coddling the client. And Simon was great at it. He could show just the right amount of empathy, but still be a hard ass when he needed to be.

  I toed out of my shoes so as not to get the carpets dirty—a major pet peeve of Simon’s—and followed the smell of pepperoni and mushrooms into the kitchen as he continued to listen to whatever crisis his client was having now.

  “Brec, listen. I get that you’re pissed, and I’d be pissed too, but the agency has already sent over four of its best assistants, all of whom you’ve fired within a month. They won’t send over anyone else. We’re going to have to use a new agency, and if you need to vet them first--- yeah, I know that’ll take too much time, especially since you’re due on set next week in Hong Kong.”

  I pulled plates out of the cupboard and slid two pieces of pizza onto each as I eavesdropped on his conversation, trying to mentally take notes on how he handled difficult clients.

  Simon sighed, scrubbing his forehead with his hand like he always did when he was frustrated. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Brec. You’re out of options. I don’t know of anyone…” Simon paused, turning to me and cocking his head. “Actually… hold on.”

  Simon had that gleam in his eyes, the one he always got when he was going to try to talk me into something he knew I wouldn’t like. Like the time in high school when he coerced me into babysitting his girlfriend’s little brother, so they could sneak out, and the little bastard squirted glue in my hair. I had to cut my long locks into a bob—and my hair took over a year to grow back.

  I narrowed my eyes, apprehensive about whatever he was about to say, as he pushed a button on his Bluetooth, so whoever he was speaking with was placed on hold. “Hey, Cora. I have a proposition for you.”

  I put the pizza down, bracing for whatever he was about to throw at me. “Okay….”

  “How’d you like to do some temp work as a personal assistant? Just for the next month or so?”

  I started to shake my head. “No, Simon. You know I don’t want you to get me a job. I want to do this on my own.”

  “I know, I know. This wouldn’t be me getting you a job. This is you helping out your big brother. The client needs someone he can trust, and doesn’t have time to vet anyone else before he’s due on set next week. The job will pay eight grand for one month. Plus, all your room and board will be covered while you travel, and other expenses, too.”

  My eyes widened. Eight thousand dollars for one month? That was more than four months rent. I could move into a nicer place that had thicker walls! But, I couldn’t. No, if I broke my vow and did this, then I might as well accept all of Simon’s charity. “I can’t, Simon.”

  He gave me his best puppy dog eyes. “Please, Cora? For me? I’ll owe you big time.”

  I sighed. I never could resist him when he turned those sad eyes at me. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  A huge smile broke out on his face momentarily until he turned serious again. “Listen, Cora. You need to know something before you totally agree. The client? He’s not easy to work with. He’s probably the most demanding person I represent. A control freak that makes other control freaks look as mellow as Cheech and Chong. This will not be an easy job. Not by a long shot. But he’s also one of my best friends, and, deep down, a great guy. Deep, deep down. I promise. If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t let my baby sister near him with a ten foot pole. He just has some…proclivities that can make him seem rigid.”

  Oh shit. There was only one person he could be talking about: Breccan Laughry. Twice voted as People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive”, and one of the most popular actors in Hollywood. He was also one of the most notorious.

  But I really needed a new place. And more than two-week old moldy Chinese in my fridge.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? You’ll do it?”

  I blew out a breath, not quite sure what I was getting myself into. “Yes. I’ll do it.”

  Simon pulled me to him, and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “You’re the best, sis! Seriously!” He hit a button on his Bluetooth. “Brec! Great news! I just found your next assistant!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cora

  After agreeing to become Breccan Laughry’s new personal assistant, Simon had given me a manila envelope that contained a work phone, a key to Breccan’s apartment, several pages of typed instructions, and a Non-Disclosure Agreement. I was too anxious to sleep before my first big day, so after tossing and turning, I finally rolled out of bed at six in the morning, brewed a strong cup of coffee, and began to read over everything. The very first thing on the page in huge bold print read:

  PLEASE READ AND MEMORIZE:

  THE RULES:

  1. Never make me repeat myself.

  2. Never speak to anyone about Mr. Laughry

  3. Never go in the locked room with the green door

  I rolled my eyes as I continued to scan the rest of the document. Rules including the way I dressed when I was with him, the way I was to keep my hair, and even the number of rings it should take me to answer the phone. This guy had to be the most uptight control freak I’d ever seen. But, I could handle it. Hell, if I could handle Simon and his crazy quirks all my life, putting up with this guy for a mo
nth should be a cakewalk.

  I was just finishing the final page when the provided cell phone buzzed, indicating I had a text message. It simply read “316 Oceanview Court. Twenty minutes” –of course—“take the trash out and wait for further instructions.”

  Shoving the papers neatly back in the folder, I checked that my hair was pulled neatly back, as required, before grabbing my keys and heading to my car, typing the address in my navigation system. Seeing as it was so early, traffic was very light, and I made great time, arriving seven minutes ahead of schedule. I parked in the spot outlined in the instructions from the packet, and used the key to let myself in.

  As I stepped inside, my jaw dropped. Simon’s penthouse apartment was nice. This house was an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous on steroids. Marble tiled entranceway, teak floors in the living room under what I knew was an authentic Persian rug. Beautiful art hung on the walls, art that belonged in a museum—professionally lit with small lights adorning each piece. In the center of the sunken living room, sat a leather couch and two club chairs—none of which looked like they’d ever been used.