The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1)(51)
The last bits of marinara drizzled into the sink as I rinsed the plate. If I’d been alone, I totally would have licked the plate clean, because that sauce was out of this world. “I don’t want any preferential treatment at work,” I added, remembering the sinking feeling in my stomach at the thought of Brogan letting me be the exception to his rules.
His lips pulled into a smile. “I wasn’t planning on it.” He grabbed my plate and handed me his dirty one to wash.
I leaned my hip against the counter and crossed my arms. “And if I screw up, I need to be held accountable, just like everyone else.” I paused, and my voice took on a harder edge. “I want my success to be earned, and don’t want anyone to mistakenly think that it’s because we’re hooking up.” Because right now I was in the trenches, working my way up doing menial tasks, but someday I’d be putting my degree to use, and I didn’t want anyone to question why.
He leveled an equally intense gaze at me. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You’ll work just as hard for your success as everyone else.”
“I think that settles it.” I smiled. “I’m in.”
He smiled and pulled me into a hug. My hands ran along his biceps, along the strong ridge of muscles that wound down his arms. “Me, too.”
Chapter Seventeen
Starr Media Handbook Rule #322
Emails will remain professional and polite.
Jackson had resumed his role as uninterested coworker by the time I came back to work the next day. He sat at his desk, slouched in his chair, tapping on his computer with one hand.
“More clients on your desk this morning.”
I looked up at him, trying to decipher his motives. Did he give these to me, feeling bad for giving me the shaft yesterday? Pity clients. Heck, I’d take them. The more clients I took on, the more job security I garnered.
“If you’re wondering why, it’s because I find them lackluster, and they bring down the rest of my portfolio.” He glared at me over the top of his computer and then went back to work.
Right. He was all sugar and spice today.
Two manila folders sat on my desk, and I pushed them aside while I booted up my computer.
My email pinged as soon as the programs loaded.
From: Brogan Starr
To: Lainey Taylor
Subject: Meatballs
I hope you didn’t bring the meatballs in the office. They have garlic and you might be meeting with a client today at 1:30. Don’t be late.
Brogan Starr, CEO Starr Media I quickly replied:
From: Lainey Taylor
To: Brogan Starr
Subject: re: Meatballs
I wouldn’t dream of eating your balls at work. I look forward to the meeting.
P.S.—I plan to eat them with garlic bread and garlic tater tots later tonight.
Lainey Taylor, Second assistant to Brogan Starr, Starr Media Garlic lover
I smirked, thinking maybe I needed to tone it down on the next email, because that may have toed the line a bit.
A new event popped up on my schedule—a meeting with JD Sigmund, a news anchor that recently transferred over to MTV. I bounced in my seat as I stared at the notification. Four new clients within a month. At this rate, I’d have a full caseload by the end of next year.
I giggled as I read Brogan’s email for the fourth time.
“Please, by all means, share with the class what is so damn funny, newbie.” Jackson gave brow arch number two with a little splash of indignation to mix it up a bit.
“Just a funny email.”
“Did you get the YouTube one of that cat that logrolls a watermelon? Janice sent that this morning.”
“No.” And I felt oddly left out if everyone on the staff was getting goofy cat videos while my inbox remained empty.
Another email pinged in my inbox a few minutes later.
From: Brogan Starr
To: Lainey Taylor
Subject: re: Meatballs
Trying to ward off vampires, huh? Rumor has it the garlic thing is a myth, though holy water and a salt circle will do the trick. Are you free on Thursday?
-B
From: Lainey Taylor
To: Brogan Starr
Subject: re: Meatballs
Did you just make a Supernatural reference? I see the Netflix is paying off.
I’ll have to check my schedule. My boss runs a tight ship, and I might have a lot of work to do that night.
-L
From: Brogan Starr
To: Lainey Taylor
Subject: re: Meatballs
I’ll put in a good word to your boss.
-B
I smothered my grin with my hand and bounced my legs against the rung of my chair. Oh lordy, was I in trouble.
…
Brogan was on his computer when I finished walking Bruce the following night. He had a pair of black-rimmed reading glasses on as he focused on a spreadsheet. The glasses gave a cute geeky edge to his muscled exterior, something that was deliciously adorable.
“How’s the Henderson account coming?” I asked, plopping a tote and my purse on the coffee table.
“It’s going. Just finishing up.” He hit a few keys on the computer and then closed the laptop. He scrubbed his hands over his face, removing his glasses and propping them on the end table. His look of irritation dissipated when his gaze slid over me, replaced with a soft smile. “Damn, you are a much-needed sight for sore eyes. Come here, beautiful.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the couch. My fingers ran along the stubble of his jaw as our lips brushed together.