Against the Rules

by Ella Goode

  “I’m not touching you,” I growl. You’d think she heard I ate babies or some shit. I’m going to have to talk to Monica about this. I pick up the chair and Lucia and carry it to the side where I can see her—face, legs, lap and all. “There.”

  I resettle into my seat and stare. This is perfect. In fact, this is where Lucia should sit at all times—not out in the pool with Monica and Cesar but in here with me where I can look over at her slender legs, her ugly black flats, the sack she calls clothes, her gorgeous brown hair that the sunlight kisses from the windows, and her beautiful face with those pillowy lips.

  She rubs said lips together before parting them. “Did you have something you wanted me to take down?”

  I heave out a sigh. “Yeah. Why haven’t you said I can call you Lucky yet?”

  Chapter 10

  Lucia

  “You can call me Lucky if you want.”

  “I do.” He leans back in his chair with a big smile on his face like he’s won some prize. I think he gets weirder by the day. Which is not working out so well for me. It only makes me watch him more.

  “Okay.” I tap my pen on the top of my notepad, staring right back at him. It’s hard not to with the suit he has on. I mean, it’s so pink. It’s the same color that has been popping up all over the office recently. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I told him it was my favorite color and now I’m surrounded by it. The suit he’s sporting today tells me he will pretty much go to any lengths to get what he wants. He’s the only man I know that could pull off wearing that suit and still look hot.

  “Why do people call you Lucky?”

  “Why are you in a pink suit?”

  “You don’t like it?” He looks down at his suit, his eyebrows pulling together. “You said you like pink,” he reminds me, making me laugh.

  “I know I like pink. I’m not so sure it should cover a whole suit though. Maybe try just a tie next time. It’s hard to pull pink off sometimes.” I want to tell him the truth—that he could wear a damn sack and I’d still be attracted to him—but I don’t. I also don’t care much for all the attention the pink suit is bringing him.

  “You could pull off all pink.”

  “Maybe.” I shrug. “I haven’t come across a pink suit that was in my price range. I’m on a budget.”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  “Handle it?”

  “I’ll get you one.”

  I shake my head. “You can’t buy me a suit.”

  “Why?” For the first time he actually looks offended by something I’ve said or done. Which is nuts because I’ve both slapped him and dumped drinks over his head. “That’s not in the manual.” He pulls out a giant white binder from a drawer in his desk, tapping the top of it. I start to reach for it, but he pulls it back. “It's boring. I’ve read it from front to back. You don’t want to. Believe me.” He drops it back into the drawer. “So you never answered me. Why do they call you Lucky?” Okay, then.

  “My cousin, B.J., gave me the name a long time ago. She thinks I have a way of walking right into luck or it dropping into my lap.” I did have some strange luck. It wasn't winning the lottery luck but more a make it in the nick of time kind of luck. Right place, right time. I think it’s all run out though. The minute my hand connected with Mr. O'Hare’s face. I knew it would run out eventually. On second thought, maybe it hasn’t. I still have a job after everything that has happened. So maybe I am living up to my nickname.

  “Do you have a nickname?” A few days ago I had a couple choice ones for him, but I’ve since stopped referring to him as them. I don’t know why I keep asking him personal things but I can’t seem to help myself.

  I want to know more about him and I haven’t been getting much from the other employees here. They tell me the basic things, but no one really knows much about his personal life. Monica and Cesar have been the most informative out of everyone. One thing's for sure. What they say about him doesn’t match what I’ve experienced when it’s been him and me alone.

  “Not that I’m aware of but I’m sure I’ve been called many different ones that I’m unaware of.”

  “Yes, I believe there were a few names that they called you on that post this morning. They included dreamboat, sexy beast, and Captain America 2.0.”

  “That’s creepy.” He reaches up, pulling at his tie and looking a bit uncomfortable.

  “Does it bother you that you’ve been sexualized?”

  “By random people it seems weird.” His answer perplexes me. He really was uncomfortable about that comment. He’d shut Monica down about them all quickly. He himself found them weird. Most people would be strutting around talking about how they could land chicks even while wearing the most ridiculous thing ever.

  “You know, when you walked up to me in that restaurant I was a random person to you,” I point out. An almost aha moment plays across his face. It’s gone almost as quick as it showed up.

  “That’s different,” he reasons.

  “How is it different?” I roll my eyes, but I am dying to hear his reasoning.

  “Because—” He pauses.

  “Because?” I’m almost on the edge of my chair wanting him to answer.

  “We’ll be married one day.” A bark of laughter comes from me. He doesn't laugh. He looks as serious as can be.

  “Why don’t you marry one of your thousands of followers who commented on your pic from this morning?” I can even hear the jealousy in my own voice. I jump up from my chair. One that he moved halfway across the room because he’s nuts. I’m not sure if I’m mad at him or myself at this point.

  “Did you comment?”

  “No.” I throw my hands up in the air.

  “Well then, that won’t work.”

  “I can’t deal with you.” I turn, stomping out of his office. When I open the door people turn to look my way. I don’t go to my desk. Instead I hit the elevator and go up to the top floor to get some air. I keep telling myself he’s crazy, but I know he’s not.

  Finn O'Hare is a brilliant man. He’s made a name for himself. He can’t be crazy. Still, none of this makes any sense. How is a man that has no history of dating that I can dig up keep coming on to me? There’s not even gossip or rumors about him being a flirt anywhere. Yet he keeps coming on to me. This sudden liking for pink was his latest attempt to get closer to me. Okay, I have to admit that it’s really kind of sweet.

  I go for my notebook to look at my notes again. There are pages of them that I’ve been making about Finn. “Oh, crap.” I start hitting the down button over and over again. I left my notepad on the floor of his office. Now he’s going to think I’m the crazy one.

  Chapter 11

  Finn

  Finn O’Hare. O Hare Finn F F F O H H A R E. I flip the page and see more of the same. It appears my girl is somewhat of a good learner and her current inspiration is my name. Ordinarily, I would view this as a sign of interest. But Lucky is confusing to me. Also, I don’t screw things up.

  ME: You around

  Rydell: Are you giving the foundation more money because if so, yes

  I’m not but I call him anyway.

  “How much of a check are you writing out?” He barks into the phone.

  “That even a hello? I don’t get any foreplay? You just gonna go in dry?”

  “You’re not going to give me any money, are you?” Rydell sighs.

  “You know me so well. It’s almost as if we were childhood friends.”

  “Sounds fake to me. I can’t imagine being friends with an asshole like you. What did you call for anyway?”

  I swing my feet up onto the desk and lean back into my chair. “If you find a notebook that has your name written in it multiple times, do you assume that the writer is open and receptive to your advances?”

  “Hold on. I need to check what year it is. I kind of feel like we’ve traveled back in time to our preschool days.”

  “Ha ha,” I fake laugh. “Why did I think calling you was a good idea?”


  “Probably because I’m the only friend that you have.”

  “That’s not true. I have hundreds of names in my contacts app.”

  “We’re not talking about the number of people who would be willing to answer the phone because you are Finn O’Hare,” he unnecessarily clarifies, “but the number of people that would stand by you if you were Finn Johnson.”

  “Isn’t Finn Johnson a famous golfer? I swear I saw him on the television two weekends ago and you texted me and said,” I pause to scroll up. When I find the message, I read it aloud, “‘Since when is Finn a popular name? I thought your parents were the only ones dumb enough to name you Finn’ and then I replied, ‘That’s rich coming from someone named Rydell.’”

  A deep, long-suffering exhale blows through the phone. “This is why I am your only friend.”

  “I thought it was actually because people are afraid that if they talk to me I’ll become interested in their company and want to take it over.”

  “That, too. Since we have established that I am your only friend, because I am a good and kind person and out of the bigness of my heart--”

  “Is bigness a word?” I interrupt to ask.

  “We just went over that I’m your only friend. Do you really think it makes sense to question my word choice?”

  “Wow. Wow. Wow,” I reply in mock alarm. “I can’t believe that me caring about how you look in front of possible donors and grant recipients is deemed offensive.”

  “Did you call me to bust my balls or for some other reason?”

  “Can’t it be both?”

  Rydell’s response is drawn-out silence. I give in because he is one of my closest friends and because I’m in desperate need of advice.

  “Remember the woman from the restaurant?”

  “There are so many women in restaurants these days that want to be Mrs. Finn O’Hare. Can you be more specific?”

  “The one who slapped me.” I tap my cheek in remembrance.

  “Ah, yes, the brunette in black. She is my favorite person, you know.”

  “Good. Bring two dozen pink flowers to my office.”

  “This response triggers so many questions.”

  I can tell he’s intrigued. “She works for me now.”

  Rydell’s laugh is so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. When he finally stops for a breath, I interject, “So you see my dilemma.”

  “How many times has Monica told you to keep your hands to yourself?”

  “Only once verbally, but I was given a gigantic book on all the dos and don’ts of office romance. For the record, there are five thousand and ten don’ts and one do.”

  “What’s the do?”

  “Do be mindful of your actions at all times. It starts out the tome, in fact.”

  This sets off Rydell again. While he gasps for air, I page through the notebook again. On the second page there are some hearts, but they are crossed through. I don’t find any skull or crossbones, which I find encouraging. My gut tells me she’s interested despite the slapping, the water pouring, and her general tendency to avoid me in the office as much as an assistant possibly can.

  “You have the girl of your dreams but she’s an employee so you can’t do anything about it,” Rydell says when he’s done heaving his lungs out at my expense.

  “Yes.”

  “What’d you call me for again?”

  I slap the book closed. “I think she’s interested in me in return, but she hasn’t acted on it and until she makes advances to me, I can’t do anything. My hands are tied. I can’t ask her to go out to dinner while I’m at work as that’s considered a violation. I can’t show up at her apartment or wait outside the building as that’s considered stalking and thus not an employer approved activity. Gifting outside of regular bonuses is frowned upon.”

  “You can’t take her on a work trip, either, because those are the most dangerous times for an employer,” Rydell muses.

  “Precisely.”

  “You make her jealous then. It’s the only way.”

  “I’m listening. Go on.”

  “There are hundreds of women in the city who would be glad to go out to dinner with you or just have their picture taken next to you. Find one of those who wouldn’t stab you with her stilettos when you don’t call again and use her to make your girl jealous.”

  “This sounds like it could blow up in my face.”

  “Or you can do nothing and wait until your woman gets cherry picked by another man.”

  A chill runs down my spine. “I’m thumbing through my contacts as we speak.”

  Chapter 12

  Lucia

  He hasn't been out of his office all day. My eyes drift back to his door for the millionth time. There’s no more of him walking past my desk every ten minutes. This could only mean one thing. He saw my notepad and now he’s avoiding me. Probably thinks I’m a crazy stalker.

  Worse, it’s driving me insane. How do I go from trying to avoid him to getting irritated that he’s not making up a reason to talk to me or swing by my work area? I’ve gotten so used to him being around that I miss him, which doesn’t even make any sense.

  I try to get back to work and keep myself busy, knowing that the day is almost over. I clear out the rest of my emails and go to check the calendar for tomorrow. My eyes freeze on today when I see that someone has made a change to Finn's calendar.

  I click on it and all it says is date. He has a date? How can he have a freakin date! He’s been teasing about me being his wife. Now he’s going out with someone else? And he’s taking her to our restaurant. Okay it’s not our restaurant but it’s where we met. And really it’s the club attached to the restaurant. Still. It was our spot. I can’t believe this.

  “Are you okay?” I look up at Cesar, who is staring at me.

  “I’m fine.” I force a smile.

  “That pen in your hand doesn’t look fine.” I drop the pen that I almost cracked in half.

  “Did you update Mr. O’Hare’s calendar?” I’m hoping that maybe he was the one that added the event so that I can try to get some details from him.

  “No. Has something changed?” He clicks his mouse to pull it up. “A date?” Cesar looks confused. “He never goes on dates.”

  “I guess he took Monica up on her idea of him going out with someone.”

  “I guess.” Cesar shakes his head before getting back to work. I watch the minutes pass by wanting to get out of here.

  My emotions are everywhere and I don’t understand it. Why do I care if he’s going on a date? I don’t even like him. I’ve slapped him, poured water on him and avoided him. Yet, I somehow feel disappointed and I’m not ready to admit to myself why. I shouldn’t care.

  I text B.J to see if she works tonight. I know it’s terrible but she can spy for me. She works in both the club and the restaurant handling VIPs.

  “I wonder if that’s her?” I look up at Cesar thinking he must have found a pic or something but then I follow his line of sight. The woman that’s currently standing in the office is breathtaking. She’s tall, probably six foot with long, blond hair. She’s in a pretty black dress and shoes that I’d kill myself in. Looking at her and knowing that she’s here for Finn has me feeling something deep down inside that might resemble jealousy.

  She is the total opposite of me in every way. Finn’s door opens before she gets to it. His eyes meet mine but I turn my head, looking away. I have to get out of here. I grab my purse before powering off my computer.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell Cesar as I stand up. Out of the corner of my eye I see that they are still standing at his door. Why can’t they go into his office? Why does he have to shove his date in my face? After his crazy ass said he wanted to marry me. I guess he’s on to the next. That thought has me turning angry.

  “Lucky.” I turn to see Kevin heading my way. “Are you out of here?”

  “Yeah.” I put my purse on my shoulder.

  “You want to grab a drin
k?” I start to say no but I hear the pretty blonde laugh. What is she laughing at? He’s not even funny. He’s annoying.

  “I think I would like to go out for a drink. Let me go home and change first. I know the perfect place we can go. My cousin can get us in.” I know that what I’m doing is crazy, but I can’t help myself.

  “Let me get your number.” Kevin pulls out his phone and I ramble off my number. I can swear I feel someone staring at me. I look over my shoulder and Finn jerks his gaze away from me. He steps back into his office, the blonde going with him before the door closes.

  My heart drops. This is a bunch of bullshit. I shouldn’t care. I text B.J. back when she tells me she has a fancy place she can get me into tonight.

  I’m going to have to raid her closet when I get home. If I am going to do this, I’m going to go all out.

  I rush home to find something to wear. It’s not as easy as I thought it would be. I end up back in my own closet grabbing my petal pink dress and slip on my silver flats before I head into the bathroom to touch up my makeup and hair.

  “What am I doing?” I ask myself in the mirror. There is no way I can compete with that woman. I’m more mad at myself than anything. I shouldn’t care but the truth is I do care. A lot.

  This might be for the best. If Finn can jump from one girl to the next he'll end up breaking my heart after he gets tired of me. It doesn’t mean that I can’t shove my own date in his face. I know it’s petty, but I don’t care.

  What I don’t understand is why he would go to all of that trouble. Practically making a spectacle of himself to get my attention and then just flip a switch and be on to the next. I need to stop obsessing about this. What’s done is done. Well, it will be after I rub my date in his face tonight.

  My phone dings with a text from Kevin. I text him back letting him know where to meet me. If Finn O’Hare is going to play with my heart, then I am going to play with his too.