by Ann Steele
Table of Contents
Contents
Synopsis
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Dear Reader
Title Page
Prologue- Abigail
Chapter One – Abigail
Chapter Two – Killian
Chapter Three – Abigail
Chapter Four – Killian
Chapter Five – Abigail
Chapter Six – Killian
Chapter Seven – Abigail
Chapter Eight – Killian
Chapter Nine – Abigail
Chapter Ten – Killian
Chapter Eleven – Abigail
Chapter Twelve – Abigail
Epilogue
Sneak Peak-Apathy
Coming Soon- No Limits
The End
Synopsis
CEO Killian White didn't believe in love. He believed in taking what he wanted. No questions asked. Women do his bidding. They love the wicked things he does to them. His only rule? There are no rules. And then Abigail Koch crashes into his life and he finally encounters a woman resistant to his charms. Women don't say no to Killian and he is determined Abigail Koch is not the exception. He will have her, no matter what it takes.
Abigail has sworn off men when she lands her dream job as head of A and R at White Label Records. All men, even Killian White, her new boss, no matter how much he wants her.
When unexpected circumstances force them together, they're both left reeling but will the two overcome their tumultuous histories or are they destined to hurt each other?
WARNING: This book is a hot, Modern day billionaire erotic romance with an Alpha billionaire. Fans of El James, Charlotte Byrd, and Sylvia Day will enjoy this series. It contains light bondage And a Happy for Now Ending.
Copyright
No Rules. Copyright © 2018 By Ann Steele
Cover Design By: © 2018 German Designs
All right reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage or retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. Scanning, uploading, and electronic distribution of this book or the facilitation of such without the permission of the author is prohibited. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s right is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents relating to non-historical figures are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of such incidents, place, or figures to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
This book is for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share please purchase additional copies. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it then you should please return book and purchase your own copy. Thank you in advance for respecting the author’s work.
Self-Published By: Ann Steele 2018
Interior Formatting By: C.A. Smith Designs
Acknowledgement
I would first like to thank my wonderful husband for his patience with me while I wrote this book. I would also like to thank my family and friends for having faith in me and encouraging me to write. Lastly, I would like to think my wonderful editor. You are all amazing.
Dear Reader,
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No Rules
By: Ann Steele
White Label Series
Book One
Prologue- Abigail
We were like fire and Ice. Never met to mix.
We were toxic. I should have never given in. But I craved him.
I was drawn to him. He was my forbidden pleasure.
My savior. The devil himself.
Mr. Killian White. My Mr. Killian White.
At least that’s what I thought.
Once he was sweet. Now he’s demanding and cold.
I was his. I thought he was mine.
But when it comes to Mr. White.
There are No Rules.
Mr. White takes what he wants.
What he wants is me.
Chapter One – Abigail
Head in a muddle, I rushed around my shoe box apartment, cursing myself for not being more organised. Today, the first day of my new job, the start of what I hope is a new life, is bad enough without my car keys vanishing into the nether. And there's the meeting with Killian White, my new boss, CEO of White Label Records, billionaire and self-professed womanizer. He harps on about leaving strings of broken hearts wherever he goes like he's proud of it. Well, not mine. I need a fresh start, a life without useless, cheating men complicating things.
This job is my fresh start and I deserve a fresh start after all crap Lance, my recently-ex boyfriend, put me through. After the way Lance fucked me over, there's no way in Hell I'll let Killian White screw with my chance at a fresh start. His womanizing ways are legendary, he's more famous for the string of broken hearted supermodels in his past and the size of his cock, nine and a half inches, if you're wondering, than he is for the chart-topping pop music his label pumps out every month. The extra half inch is of vital importance, or you'd think it was the way gossip rags quiz his exes on it.
After locating my car keys in the fridge, with a vague recollection of having them in my hand when I made grilled cheese for breakfast, I paused in the hall, checking my outfit one last time. Not too sexy, not too plain. I smoothed down my calf length pencil skirt and tucked a strand of errant hair behind my ear. A final check of the buttons on my slightly sheer, not too low-cut blouse were straight and I was out of the day, heading to the rust bucket that professes to be my car.
With my first pay packet, I plan to buy a new one. I can't wait. I've coped with this heap of crumbling metal and rust since Lance stole and sold my last one six weeks ago. Apparently, he needed the cash for an engagement ring, which wouldn't be so bad if I was engaged or got an engagement ring out of the illicit sale of my car, but I didn't. It wasn't me the cheating cock lodger proposed to.
I pulled up outside White Label's massive, unsurprisingly white, building half an hour later. It would've been quicker, but my rust bucket is only capable of one speed — tortuously slow. I swear a turtle overtook me once.
"Hi," I extended my hand to the young receptionist, "I'm Abigail Koch, the new head of A and R."
"Second floor for A and R," she waved to a bank of elevators. Everything, as far as my eye could see, was white. I thought last time I was here, for my interview, Mr White took the play on his last name way too far but hey, who am I to comment? He's the self-made billionaire with the bevvy of beautiful women waiting to drop their panties for him, not me.
My new team welcomed me with wine and nibbles, all taking time to chat to me about new talent they had their eye on or talent shows they wanted to attend. They seemed a nice bunch, hardworking, amenable and friendly and I appreciated the wine. My nerves needed alcohol if I was to get through a meeting with the infamous Killian White in one piece. Once I'd introduced myself, caught up on what my team was up to and polished off my wine, I locked myself in my office.
As head of
A and R, that's Artists and Repertoire to non-industry peeps, it is my job to find new talent and bring over them to White Label Records. I turned on the high-spec desktop computer, tapping in the log-in details the former head of A and R left taped to the monitor and logged into YouTube keen to impress Killian at our first meeting for the right reasons.
A cerise haired, blue eyed teen girl caught my eyes. She bounced in front of the camera, high-kicking her leg, singing and impressively rapping about how shitty men are.
"You're telling me kid," I moaned.
Her image was great, perfect for White Label, her voice was powerful, and in-tune and her lyrics were catchy. I jotted her name, Scarlet Red, on a slip of paper and slipped it in my purse. I doubted it was her real name and if it was a stage name, I had no doubt Killian would demand she change it to something more original and less cliché but what's a name when you have the rest of the package?
Pleased with my find, I decided to take an early lunch, arranging to meet Katya, my oldest friend, the only one from my former life who I was willing to bring over into my new life. She waited for me outside our favorite coffee place, already nursing a massive cup of Frappuccino, and a stonking hangover by the looks of her dishevelled hair and bleary eyes. She nudged a mug of steaming macchiato at me.
"Sooo," she drawled, licking her lips, "how did the meeting with Killian White go? Is he as hot in real life as in the papers?"
"We haven't met yet," I said.
"You'll have to tell me every single detail, every detail, all nine and half inches of detail," she threw back her head, cackling. Two tables of business men turned to glower at us.
"Katya, I am not screwing my boss. It's uncouth and unprofessional."
"Who the fuck wants to be professional and 'couth' when their boss looks like this?"
She slipped her iPad across the white, coffee stained table. I never did figure out why coffee shops used white, plastic top tables. They stain terribly. I glanced at the iPad. Killian White was pictured last night, falling out of a nightclub where one of his artists had been performing, with three drunk but stunning blondes hanging off him.
I sank back in my high-back chair, sighing. If he's sated his manly needs, as Lance would put it, only last night then I might escape his attentions today. Especially considering the three Amazonian women he indulged in last night made me look like one of Cinderella's ugly step-sisters on a bad day. I smoothed down my hair, downing my coffee.
"Gotta run, Katya," I said. "My meeting is soon, wish me luck,"
"Luck," she yelled after me, "and I wanna hear all about Killian White's nine and a half inches."
The table of business men collectively shook their heads. No-one could accuse Katya of being ladylike, but she was my closest friend and I loved her, vulgarity and all. I still wasn't discussing my boss' penis with her. I won't ever lay eyes on my boss' penis so there's nothing to discuss.
***
"Come in," Killian slurred when I rapped on his door. I stepped inside, pulling on my skirt, making sure it wasn't riding up. Killian lifted his head, his eyes red and bloodshot, the grain of his wooden desk imprinted to his forehead. The stale aroma of last night's brandy oozed from his pores. I'd judge but he built White Label Records from the bottom up and is the richest self-made man in the US. If the man wants to drink himself to death, that's his prerogative. No-one can say he hasn't earned it, unlike Lance when he attempts to drink himself into an early grave.
He leaned back in his leather swivel chair, not hiding his roaming gaze. His striking green eyes caressed my curves, landing on my breasts, where they remained for way too long. I crossed my arms over my chest, scowling at him.
"I thought we could start our meeting by watching some new talent I found," I snapped, slamming myself to the seat opposite his desk. He tipped his head back. Stubble lined his strong jawline.
"Okay," he sighed, running his hand over his chin. "Let me have it."
I opened the laptop I carried with me, hitting play on Scarlet Red's video. Her lively tones filled his office, he leaned forward, scrunching his tanned face at the screen.
"Meh, she's okay," he said, waving his hand dismissively.
"Okay? Are you tone deaf or just still drunk?" My confidence surprised Killian as much as it did me. He bolted upright in his chair, straightening his crisp white shirt. It clung to his broad frame showing off his well-defined abs. I bit my tongue, mentally cursing myself. I thought Lance beat all my confidence out of me and yet, here I am, mouthing off at my new boss before we even said hello and I need this job.
"Sorry," Killian said, extending his hand. "I'm a jerk and I'm tired. I forgot I had meeting with you today. One of my acts was performing last night and I went a little too far with the Merlot. I apologize. I'm Killian White, CEO. You must be Abigail Koch, our new head of and A and R?"
"Yes." I took his hand. His grip was strong and warm and his fingers thick. I couldn't resist letting my gaze drift to his crotch. A modest bulge peeked from his loose cotton pants. He leaned forward, studying the screen, his brow furrowed. At least he managed to tear his eyes from my tits, I guess. Mine strayed back to the bulge in his pants. A heat crept up my cheeks.
I will not ruin my fresh start and new job by staring at my boss' crotch, especially not when my boss prides himself on fucking anything with a pulse. I forced myself to stare at his face. It didn't do much to quell the fire burning in my core. Rage, that's what that is, I tried to kid myself. Killian White is not all that. His emerald eyes flickered.
"Okay," he leaned back in his chair, his hands help up in defeat, "you're right, I'm wrong and an asshole. She's good, perfect for White Label Records in fact. We should fly out to her ASAP. I'll have my PA make the arrangements and will email you with times, dates et cetera, okay?"
"Um, yeah," I said, a little taken aback by his sudden change of heart.
"Great. Thank you for your time, Abigail and again, I apologize for my behavior earlier. Welcome to White Label Records, I'm sure you'll fit in just fine."
He drooled those last few words, his intentions clear. I stormed from his office raging. I was hired for my mind not my body. Who does Killian White think he is checking me out like I'm one of conquests? Asshole. His shitty attitude made it even easier to resist his other, ahem, charms.
Chapter Two – Killian
"Are you tone deaf or just still drunk?" My new head of A and R, the delectable Miss Koch yelled at me. I jerked in my chair, my dick standing to instant attention. No-one yells at me, ever. I'm the one who makes the rules, I'm the one who does the yelling. Fire burned in her warm chocolate eyes. She meant her rage, every last word. Her nostrils flared, her lush lips set into a hard line, a heat crept over her cheeks, all her freckles popped and holy damn, is she hot as Hell? When she walked in I had a hard time not gawking at her perfectly proportioned curves. As easy as it is for me to meet women, LA isn't exactly brimming with women with Abigail's curves. Most women either starve themselves or, worse, pay someone to vacuum the fat right out of their asses. As an ass and breast man, this always baffled me. Now she's pissed, she's even hotter. Her gaze drifted to the bulge in my pants and thank Christ I wore tighty whiteys today instead of going commando. They went some way to disguising the massive boner her temper brought on. The last thing I need is my employees suing me for sexual harassment.
Abigail glowered at me like she wanted to punch me in the face. In a way, I wish she would. That would be kinda hot and it would give me an excuse to bend her over and spank her round ass.
I cleared my throat, trying to focus on Abigail's face not her ass in her tight, hip hugging pencil skirt.
"Sorry," I offered a weak apology. It didn't little to calm her rage. Women don't rage at me, women simper at me and cave to my every demand, no matter how depraved those demands are and my demands are very depraved. Abigail is the first woman I remember ever standing up to me and it's driving me to distraction.
To Hell with a la
wsuit, she can sue me if she wants. It's not like I can't afford it. I want her, I will have her. She fumed through my half-assed apology. If I was gonna get in her panties, and I am gonna get into her panties, I need her to at least tolerate me. The singer she wanted to show me rapped along to an inane tune. She was no different to 99% of the female talent we have and not really what White Label is looking for at the moment, but her bio says she lives in South America. South America is a plane ride away and who better to accompany me on a business trip than the new head of A and R?
"Okay," I grinned, leaning back for a better view of Abigail's tits spilling out of her see through top. It's not really appropriate work wear, I thought but fuck, if all my staff had Abigail's killer curves, I'd be happy if they turned into work stark naked. A wicked plan formulated in my mind. "You’re right, I'm wrong and an asshole. She's good. We should fly out to meet her. I'll get my PA to make the arrangements and email you with dates, time et cetera, and okay?"
"Um, okay," she frowned at me, stepping back like she thought I wanted to eat her. She wouldn't be far wrong if that's what she did think but there are other things I want to do her first, namely spank that round ass of hers until it's red and glowing.
"Well, thank you for your time, Abigail," I said, "and welcome to White Label Records, I'm sure you'll fit in just fine."
She'll certainly fit into my personal playroom just fine. It's like she was made for my entertainment. She stomped from my office, letting the door slam behind her. My eyes stayed on the door for way too long as I replayed our meeting in my mind. Is she submissive? How perfect would that be? She blushed when she told me off, women who are used to taking control don't blush when they shout at men for being jerks and I was a massive jerk. I deserved every word of her tirade.