Breaking All the Rules

by Abi Walters

  Instead, she whispered, almost sadly, “I don’t mix business and pleasure, Mr. Ward.”

  “You should,” He growled.

  The elevator doors opened, and Mia didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset nobody was inside. She gave a faltering smile and dipped out of his arms, sliding into the elevator before she had a chance to change her mind.

  “I’ll see you soon, Miss Barnes,” He bid throatily, his hand reaching down to rest on his cock pressed tightly against his pants.

  It was the last thing Mia saw before the doors closed. She let out a rush of air and stabled herself against the cool railing of the cab. God, that man is… Mia shuttered. Nobody had elicited such raw passion in her since, well, since ever. Many had come close, but she’d never experienced anything quite like Benson Ward before. She straightened her hair and smoothed her shirt as the elevator descended, stopping only once to let a small group of people on. When she reached the bottom, she stepped out and found Tyler eagerly waiting.

  “What the hell was that?” He asked, his voice threaded with anger and jealousy. “I was like, two seconds away from coming up to get you.”

  “Mr. Ward was just going over some finer details with me,” Mia fabricated.

  “Sure,” Tyler glanced over at her as they began to walk out. “I saw the way you two were looking at each other.”

  Mia tilted her head back and laughed, “Tyler Abbott, you dirty dog. You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

  “No!” He defended, standing up straight.

  “Not that there’s anything to be jealous of,” She noted, the city air hitting her hard as they stepped out onto the street. “You know I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

  She waved them a cab and Tyler pressed on, “But would you? Mix the two, I mean.”

  “I don’t have a good history of mixing the two. Stop prying; it’s not a good look. C’mon. I’ll drop you off at your guy’s apartment on my way back to the office.”

  As they rode silently through the busy New York streets Mia couldn’t help but ask herself the same question. Would she? Would she mix business and pleasure? For Benson. No, for anyone, she corrected herself. Could she ever let herself get over her past indiscretions with men in the industry? Business associates made for bad bed fellows, even if they were tall, dark, and handsome. Mia noted to wear a less flattering blouse the next time she’d see Benson Ward, for the sake of her own sanity.

  **********

  Mia needed a drink. Or three. She had finished her work day quickly, putting off the task of getting a hold of Grant Bell for the next day. Speaking to an ex-lover wasn’t something she particularly wanted to do, but she needed to secure the venue. Monarch Records was thriving because of Charlotte’s Drive, but they needed more than just one mega-band under their belt. Opening up for Charlotte’s Drive at a hip new venue could be what Burnside needed. It could be what she needed. For that, she’d put up with Grant Bell and his delicious lips and dark eyes.

  Lingering in her building, she sent a quick text to her best friend, Lora Tate, asking her to meet her at a bar nestled between both of their apartments. Lora, whose phone was permanently attached to her, replied quickly saying she was already there. With a big grin, Mia hurried out of the building and onto the busy New York City streets. She contemplated the impending rush hour before slipping down into the subway. As she rode to her destination, she avoided the unwanted gaze of strange men who made her arm hairs prickle. She made a mental note to get her car out of the garage more often so she could skip the fiasco that was her commute. She paid handsomely for the parking spot beneath her studio, but rarely got her car out, citing it too big of a hassle. But with eyes burning into her for all the completely wrong reasons, Mia decided the hassle was worth it.

  Mia was glad that Feathers wasn’t busy when she arrived. It was a Tuesday evening, but one could never tell with New York. Feathers wasn’t a dive, but it wasn’t exactly a hip spot to be. It was warm and homely for Mia and Lora, probably because they’d both bartended there in college. It was where they had met, two NYC transplants with big dreams. Mia had only worked at Feathers a few months before switching to a much grittier bar that homed a stage for musicians, birthing her career in the music industry. Lora stayed longer, working at Feathers her entire junior and senior year of college. She now worked as an adjunct professor at New York University where they both had studied, teaching colonial American history.

  Mia found Lora nestled in a wooden booth near the rear of the bar, her laptop open and a stack of papers beside her. Lora was soft and pretty, her brown hair almost always pulled back. She wore dark framed glasses that she often pushed back when she was nervous or afraid. Her features were all round and curved, her nose naturally upturned. Among papers, flush with academia, was her natural state. That’s what Mia liked about Lora. No matter where she was, no matter what she was doing, the girl always made the space hers.

  As soon as the bartender noticed Mia walk in, he prepared her drink, sliding it in front of her almost as soon as she sat down across from Lora.

  “Thanks, Pete,” Mia nodded. “Just a heads up, I’m probably going to need three more before the nights over with… and maybe a pitcher of your cheapest tap for good measure.”

  He laughed and walked away, and Mia’s attention focused on the Long Island Ice Tea in front of her, taking a long drink while Lola shut her laptop and asked, “Long day?”

  Mia nodded and came up for air, “Oh yeah.”

  “You can’t leave me with just that.”

  “I need some booze in me before I say anything else.”

  Lora’s eyes grew big, “That bad, huh? Did your meeting at Ward Industries flop?”

  “Yes,” Mia admitted. “And no.”

  “Come on!” Lora groaned, exasperated.

  “I was standing in the lobby of the building waiting on Tyler, per usual, and some asshole rammed into me knocking my purse out of my hand. So I bent over to pick all my stuff up and I felt this hand on my hip. When I turned around, I came face to face with possibly the most attractive… delicious… scrumptious… sexy man I’ve ever come into contact with.”

  “And this is bad?” Lora’s eyes flashed with humor.

  “It’s bad when that person is Benson Ward.”

  “He is delicious!” Lora reeled with a slight gasp. “Benson Ward touched you?”

  “He did more than that,” Mia grinned wickedly, then took another sip from her drink. “The man is a wonderful kisser.”

  “I don’t see how this constitutes a bad day. Unless you didn’t get venue?”

  “Oh, I got it. I have to call Grant tomorrow, which I’m not happy about,” She frowned at the thought. “Why I feel the need to nurse a few long islands is because I can’t have Benson Ward. He’s a business associate now.”

  “Puh-lease,” Lora rolled her eyes. “You need to get over that.”

  “I’ve had far too many people already accuse me of sleeping my way into the industry,” Mia’s fingers clenched her glass at thought. “Grant was a bad idea. Aaron was a bad idea. I’m not going to give it another chance.”

  Mia wasn’t a saint. She’d skirted from Connecticut to New York the day she graduated high school. It had pained her to stick around a second after her eighteenth birthday, but she had NYU waiting for her in a few months, and she wouldn’t mess it up by running away again. Not until she could secure a dorm to sleep in and a future to look forward to. She brought some of her more reckless habits with her to New York, leaving behind a dirty past she hated to think of. Those habits got her involved with bad boy musician, Aaron Hart. His band was the first she managed. And when they got rocky, the band did too. It took an overdose to wake her up. She left Aaron and straightened up, focusing on her education and career. She lucked into a few other management positions. It wasn’t until she met Grant Bell, a few years older and a hell of a lot wiser, that she really got her foot into the door. It was his help, their relationship that made the industry talk. Wh
en they broke up she swore never to get the fuzzy lines between business and pleasure mix again, even if the pleasure was delicious.

  Two hours and two long islands later, Mia was nursing a hearty drunk as she stood in the middle of her studio. Just under a thousand square feet, her apartment was considered big for the location. Mia had been at the place for years, loving the mixture of exposed brick and industrial lighting. It was cozy, and it was hers. The kitchen was nestled near the door, featuring stainless steel appliances and butcher block countertops. Though there was an island to match, Mia also had a small, round glass dining room table pressed near a window. She had painted the walls not covered in brick a dark blue, loving the way the color contrasted with the old brick and the white molding that lined the floors and ceilings. The studio featured hardwood, which Mia enjoyed thoroughly, though she nestled her queen sized bed on top of a rug so her feet were never cold in the mornings. Her tiny home was full of blues, whites, and greens. Like everything else in her life, her home was orderly and tidy.

  Even drunk, Mia carried her principles of tidiness. She opened her wardrobe and slid her pumps off, putting them back in their assigned spot. She stripped out of her clothes and carefully put them in the hamper, hidden in the bathroom. Naked, she padded across the studio into the kitchen. She’d only turned the lamp next to her couch on when she’d gotten home, and the light that burst from the refrigerator stung her eyes. Steadying herself, Mia pulled out a tiny grease stained cardboard box. She flipped it open and shoved a two day old, cold piece of pepperoni pizza in her mouth. In almost a zombie-like state, she put the empty box back in the fridge and crossed the studio again, flicking the lamp off in the process.

  Though it was early, Mia knew she’d drank too much for a Tuesday and needed to go to bed or Wednesday would be horrible. Swallowing the last bite of pizza, she climbed up into her comfortable four poster bed. A sheer white fabric was draped around the bed, weaving around the posts. Her comforter was a forest green that was eerily similar to the color of her eyes, though her eyes didn’t have the gradating white polka dots that slid down the length of the blanket. Mia curled into a ball and, with heavy eyes, began drifting to sleep.

  That is, until Benson slipped into her mind. She’d tried her best to not think of him at the bar, and after a while, he was gone from her memory. Little had she known he was waiting in the depths of her mind. His intoxicating scent tickled in her nose and she licked her lips, heat prickling her body. Mia rolled onto her back and let her hands massage her breasts, pretending they were his. His big hands and long fingers. They had grasped her ass earlier that day, burning through the fabric of her skirt. She rubbed a finger over her nipples the way he did her hand in the lobby of the building. A soft moan escaped her lips. She let go of her body and opened her eyes, quickly rolling towards her nightstand. She fished through her assortment of sex toys and bondage gear until she found the vibrator she was looking for. It wasn’t the strongest she had, but in her drunken and lustful state, Mia didn’t feel like fumbling around to plug the Hitachi wand in. Instead she had decided on a luxurious purple g-spot rabbit vibrator. Her breath hitched as she rubbed her clit with one hand, bringing the vibrating toy down to her heated sex with her other.

  The cold sensation of the silicone sex toy was nothing compared to what Mia knew Benson would feel like, but at the moment, it was all she had. She squeezed her eyes closed and allowed his memory to flood over her as she turned the toy on, letting the quick vibrations jolt throughout her pussy. Angled so she could pump the toy with one hand and thumb her clit with the other, Mia bit down hard on her lip as she imagined Benson’s luscious lips sucking her nipples. She pretended her fingers were his, grinding out orgasm after orgasm to the thought of him fucking her deep into the bed. Mia pushed herself until she was sure her body couldn’t handle one more quivering orgasm. Panting, she slid the slick toy out of her sex and rested it on the sheets next to it. She’d clean it tomorrow… and her sheets. They were soaked beneath her. But for now, for now Mia would slip into an orgasm induced sleep with the sexy Benson Ward on her mind.

  Chapter Two

  Mia gritted her teeth and dialed Grant’s number. Even from the comfort of her office, she felt unsure of her actions. She didn’t want to call Grant. He was the first man she’d truly loved. Good thing he wasn’t the first to break her heart. When she found him with his nose buried in a line of cocaine with two naked women fondling him, she had left with ease. She’d experienced a lot of sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll in the music industry. Though it made her sick to think about, she’d scored for her bands, stealthily exchanging money for drugs on the streets of New York. She’d enabled alcohol abuse. She looked away while her men cheated on their girlfriends with the flavor of the evening. Hell, she spent the first two years of her life in New York caught in the party scene that came along with the industry. But seeing the man she loved, truly loved, on a cocaine fueled sex binge with two strangers was enough to break her. The two worked for the same company, prompting the need for at least some formalities, but Mia always hated seeing him when Charlotte’s Drive wasn’t on tour. She hated his million dollar smile and his chocolate eyes that always lured her in for more. She hated his deep laugh and the way he looked at her like he knew about her deepest fears and darkest secrets. Maybe because he did.

  “Mia? What a pleasant surprise!”

  She could hear his smile through the phone. It tugged at her heart. She knew he was being genuine. Grant often tried luring her back to bed with sweet promises and big smiles. Sometimes they worked. This couldn’t be one of those times.

  “I’m calling in a favor, Grant,” She said, cutting to the chase. “I need Charlotte’s Drive.”

  “I’ve been managing them for seven years, I don’t think you’ll be able to steal them from me so easily,” He said with a playful tone.

  She ignored him, “Benson Ward is opening a new venue and needs an act. I was trying to get Burnside booked, but they’ll only come on board if Charlotte’s Drive plays, too.”

  “So, when does this place open?” He questioned, switching into business mode.

  “Two and a half weeks,” Mia squeaked.

  Grant laughed on the other side of the line. It shook her core. He followed with, “Seriously, Mia? You know we’re on tour right now. I’m in Georgia as we speak.”

  “I checked the dates, and you guys aren’t playing that night. You’ll only be in Jersey,” She was nearly begging. God, she hated begging. “You owe me, Grant. After everything, you owe me.”

  He groaned, “Don’t do this to me, Mia.”

  “I’m serious, Grant.”

  “I’m serious, too, Mia,” He pressed back, then after a long pause, sighed. “Just… just email me the information.”

  She swallowed the squeal that was rising in her throat, “I appreciate it. I’ll shoot you an email.”

  She bid a goodbye and hung up before it got any further. Talking to Grant always made her feel simultaneously like she was twelve and like she got hit by a bus. Her throbbing hangover probably wasn’t helping. She woke to a blaring alarm that morning in a pool of her own juices and Benson still fresh on her mind. She showered and gotten ready quickly, skipping her car and taking the subway to work. She grabbed a latte with double espresso (which only reminded her of Benson’s wonderful mop of hair) and a box of donuts before heading into the building. She spent twenty minutes gathering the strength to call Grant around lunchtime, knowing he and the boys of Charlotte’s Drive wouldn’t be up until the afternoon hours.

  After sending Grant a quick email of the event details, she sent a group message to Tyler and the guys from Burnside congratulating them on booking a gig with Charlotte’s Drive. She slid the phone into the pocket of her dark skinny jeans, grabbed her purse, and left the comfort of her office, letting her assistant know she would be taking lunch soon. On her way down the massive entity that was Monarch Records, Mia stopped on the marketing and publicity floors to give her coworkers
an insight on the deal. When she finally reached the lobby of the building, she was exhausted and in need of a good burger.

  She was generally thankful for the numerous restaurants that filled the streets of New York City. However, she was starving and hated waiting. She picked the closest place, a joint she’d eaten at dozens of times before. As she sat at the table alone, she let her mind drift to Benson. Over the last twenty four hours it had gotten pretty good at that. She wondered how she’d gone so long without looking at the man, and if life would ever be the same now that she’d felt his rugged breath against her neck. She crossed her legs and squeezed, hoping to alleviate the growing pressure. Mia was almost upset that hadn’t seen him so far that day. Not that they had any plans or arrangements. She’d shot him down, anyway. But Benson Ward didn’t seem like the type of guy to take no for an answer. She’d secretly hoped she’d get to work and a dozen roses and a box of chocolates would be waiting. Hell, she’d secretly hoped he’d show up at her office and take her against her desk.

  Mia couldn’t help but snort, setting down her sandwich as she indulged in the fleeting thought of Benson Ward being romantic. He was dominating and demanding, strong and hard. He most definitely didn’t do romance. Love notes and flowers weren’t likely in his repertoire. She wondered if she’d even want those, or if she just wanted to see how impressive he was in bed. Either way, she’d never know. Even if she did decide to let the line between her personal life and professional life blur, she’d already shot Benson down.

  She finished her lunch and hurried down the street back to her office, her stomach flipping when she thought she saw the intentional flop of messy dark brown hair that belonged to Benson. She swallowed and proceeded. Benson Ward was a busy man, busier than she. He had a billion dollar corporation to run. He didn’t have time to take extended lunch breaks near Monarch Records, blocks away from his own building. As Mia finished her work day, she held onto the thought that maybe Benson Ward did have the time.