The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1)(24)

Zoey got up and made her way to the kitchen while Mom fired more questions my way. “Is your boss nice? You haven’t talked much about him these past couple weeks.”

Did it count as nice that he said nothing when I stared at his crotch? Or that, in fact, he was very nice, both on the eyes and personality-wise. So much so, that my shower head was getting a lot more action lately.

Mom didn’t need to hear about my boss and coworker woes, though. I needed her to be as stress free as possible, and I had Zoey to vent to in the meantime while she went through chemo.

Before I could answer, Derek just promised Jill she was getting a rose in tonight’s ceremony. “What a rat bastard. He’s so lying through his teeth,” I said.

We managed to make it through the whole episode without Mom needing an emergency bathroom break. Her intense nausea seemed to taper off a few days after chemo treatments, thankfully. As soon as the episode ended, I promised to call her after her chemo appointment in a few days, and hung up.

Zoey turned to me, almost tipping the bowl of popcorn sitting between us on the couch. “What was up with that earlier?”

“With what?” I popped a piece of popcorn in my mouth and stared at the TV.

“You not wanting to talk about Mr. Epic Douchebag. Mama Taylor is usually privy to those juicy details.”

“You know how Mom gets. One whiff that I’m having trouble at work and then there’s a million questions. She’s already stressed enough with her treatments.”

“Secret’s safe with me.” Zoey pretended to zip her lips and throw away the key. “But what are you going to do about him?”

“What can I do? I just need to not screw up long enough to prove my worth there.”

She nodded.

“Is that dog hair?” She picked a hair off my knee and examined it.

I rolled my eyes. “Bruce hair. Don’t even get me started.”

“Bruce isn’t a coworker is he?”

I huffed out a laugh. “No. Bruce is half horse, half leaky faucet.”

“Jitters will be jealous that you’re fraternizing with other species.”

Zoey’s cat was currently curled up on the windowsill, looking at the city skyline. She’d promptly ignored me when I walked in, but I attributed that to her usual lack of shits given about anyone but Zoey.

Zoey pulled out her laptop from her leather satchel and opened an Excel spreadsheet with a rainbow of colors and formulas. It dawned on me that I hadn’t even bothered to ask about her day. As soon as I breezed through the door, it had been the Lainey Show. Really, I was winning in the friendship category this week. “How’s your workload? Any new clients?”

She shrugged. “I have a new client meeting next week. Getting used to all the logistics. Lots of paperwork. Nothing like I thought it’d be.”

“Right? The real world is so anticlimactic.” I pushed my head into the back of the couch and repositioned my feet on the coffee table.

Zoey rolled her eyes. “Not everything can be like the movies.”

“If it were, I’d have to do some major snooping in Brogan’s apartment for a torture room.”

“Hey, I saw those arms. I wouldn’t mind being the subject of his torture.”

“I’ll give you one of the employee manuals. That should have you screaming the safe word in no time.”

“Point taken,” she said, and went back to eating popcorn and checking social media.

I decided to open up my email and make sure I didn’t have any pressing issues that needed to be handled before the morning. A deluge of CC’d interoffice memos flooded my inbox as I scrolled down the list. Just as I was about to close down my email, a new message pinged. My heart stuttered as my eyes scanned the sender. Brogan.

My first thought was crap, I should not have snooped in his fridge; he totally knows I almost ate his garlic chicken. It was followed by the realization that the email was only addressed to me, something that had never happened before.

From: Brogan Starr

To: Lainey Taylor

Subject: Meeting tomorrow

Lainey,

Jackson will be out of the building tomorrow. Can you schedule a phone conference with Patrick Duvall tomorrow at 8pm. Tell him we’ll be discussing his client’s growth in media following.

-B

Brogan Starr, CEO Starr Media Antichrist

My heart tapped tiny staccato beats against my ribcage. He’d emailed me—okay, because Jackson was off tomorrow, but still!—to handle someone as important as Patrick Duvall, and he’d snuck in a joke about being the devil. I quickly clicked the reply button and pondered how to respond. The appropriate reply would be a short On it, boss, but when in the past few weeks had I been appropriate around Brogan Starr? No sense in starting now.

From: Lainey Taylor

To: Brogan Starr

Subject: Re: Meeting tomorrow

I will call him first thing in the morning. Hope you get to leave the office soon.

Lainey Taylor

Second Assistant to Anti-Antichrist

Person Suffering from Chronic Foot in Mouth Syndrome

Yes, this email was fishing—and slightly unprofessional. Except he totally started it. I couldn’t help wondering, though, where he was right now. In his office? Back in his barren apartment with Bruce slobbering on his leg? I didn’t even want to delve into the reasons why he might be thinking of me at such a late hour—because Ah! Brogan Starr was thinking about me after ten!