Banishing All the Rules (Billionaire Romance) (The A List Series Book 3)

 

 

 

 

Banishing All The Rules

A List Book Three

 

 

Savannah Rylan

 

Banishing All The Rules

Published By Savannah Rylan Books

Copyright © 2015 Savannah Rylan

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places or events are entirely the work of the author. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or places is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in piracy of copyrighted materials.

Cover art by Cover Up Designs

 

 

Chapter One

 

Breccan

 

Goddamnit. I stood, staring at the white wooden door that had just been slammed in my face, and cursed under my breath. I fucked this whole thing up royally, and I had no idea even where to begin to make it right.

 

I placed my hands on the door, leaning heavily on them. The pain in her eyes was almost too much to bear. I caused that. It was my fault. And fuck if that didn’t make me want to kick my own ass.

 

As much as I hated myself for the pain she was currently in, I needed to make her understand. I pushed back against the door and ran my hands through my hair. No. Now wasn’t the time. But fuck! I didn’t want to leave things like this.

 

Balling my hand into a fist as the anger bubbled up, I punched the wall, leaving a dent. Great, one more thing I screwed up. I turned away, making a mental note to send a check to management for the damage and headed back down the steps. I’d give Cora space. Time to cool down while I tried to formulate a game plan, something to straighten out the cluster fuck I seemed to have developed.

 

I’d give her twenty-four hours, and then I’d come back. Tell her everything. Confess every detail.

 

No matter what it cost me.

 

She was worth it.

 

As I drove back to my beach house in my Tesla, an extremely rare southern California rainstorm hit —thanks to an impending El Nino. It ground traffic to a halt and left me sitting in my car with nothing to do but think. I should have explained everything from the beginning. Fuck Miranda and her secrets. Fuck the consequences. I should never have went along with it. Maybe if I hadn’t…

 

It took me over an hour to finally get home. When I finally pulled up to my house, I noticed an all too familiar black BMW idling in my driveway. Shit. It was Miranda. That bitch didn’t know how to take no for an answer. I parked in Cora’s spot and turned my car off; dreading the shit show that was about to go down. With Miranda, it was always a shit show. Taking a deep breath, I stepped outside and sprinted to my door.

 

I ignored her as she jumped out of her car and ran toward me, but she wouldn’t be deterred.

 

“Breccan! Please. We need to talk about this,” Miranda screamed. Standing in the middle of the street as rain pelted her, the strands of her hair now sticking to her face.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Miranda. Go home. You know better than anyone not to do this in public.”  I was certain the rain was the only thing currently keeping the paparazzi from camping out. But, I wouldn’t put it past a few hardcore nutbags to be up in a tree, right now capturing this all. Especially after yesterday.

 

God I hated my job sometimes.

 

“No, not until we talk about this.” Rain poured over her, plastering her hair and clothes to her frail body. I had a half second of guilt wash over me seeing her so desperate and sad, but only until I remembered what a manipulator she was, and that undoubtedly this too was an act.

 

“Well then you’re shit out of luck because I’m done talking, listening, or doing any other thing that involves you.” My jaw ticked as I shook, trying to reign in my boiling anger at the nerve of her. “Go the fuck home, Miranda.”

 

She ran to me and grabbed at my arm, clinging to me, eyes wide and whispering, “You can’t leave me, Breccan. Not now. We have an agreement.”

 

Rage coursed through me. “What we have is not an agreement, Miranda,” I growled. “It’s fucking blackmail.”

 

“I’m serious, Breccan, If I find out that you—”

 

I wheeled around, trying my best to keep my voice low, but failing, as everything I’d wanted to say for weeks finally spewed out. “Don’t you think you’ve threatened me enough? Did you really think that blackmailing me into dating you would win me back? After what you did? You’re fucking insane, you know that?” I pulled her closer, whispering in her ear. “The producers and everyone else may think I agreed as a favor for the fucking movie, but we both know better. We both know everything. I should have told Cora from the very beginning about—”

 

“Don’t even think about it!” she hissed.

 

I let her go, opening the front door and stepping inside, leaving her in the rain. “Just…get the fuck out. Don’t come back. Don’t call Simon and try to set something up. I’m done. Done with you. Done with your games. Done with all of this. Tell whatever fucking story you want. I don’t give a fuck anymore. Goodbye, Miranda.”

 

I didn’t wait for her to reply, closing the door and bolting it with a heavy sigh.
What a shitty day. I really need a drink.

 

I headed to the bar and grabbed the bottle of tequila, skipping the glass, and opting to drink straight from the bottle tonight. I embraced the burn as it slid down my throat. I was on my third swig when my home phone began to ring. This can’t be good. Very few people had the house number, and if they were calling at this hour, it was bad news. And after the day I had, I just didn’t want to deal with anything else.

 

“What,” I answered.

 

“Mr. Laughry?”

 

“Who’s calling?”

 

No one spoke for a minute, and I was about to hang up when she finally answered, “This is Annette. I’m calling from Harbor House.”

 

I ground my teeth and set the bottle down. This could not be good. “What the fuck is wrong now?”

 

“I’m afraid I have some bad news about Evelyn.” My heart dropped as breathing became impossible.
Was this it? THE call?
My eyes slid shut as I braced for the worst.

 

“She’s taken another spill,” Annette continued. “This time after stealing keys from the kitchen staff and sneaking out the back service stairs. Since it wasn’t a public area, no one found her for over an hour. She’s going to be okay, nothing broken.”

 

I closed my eyes in silent relief.
Okay. A fall. I can deal with a fall.
  “Thank you for letting me know, I’ll—” 

 

She continued, cutting me off. “That’s not all, Mr. Laughry. This is the fifth incident in the last month. The previous incident happening only days ago when she became violent with another patient. And before that, well, she sexually assaulted Mr. Morales. We’re lucky his family didn’t want to press charges.”

 

I cringed at the very thought. “For what? Getting a blowjob? I’m sure it was the happiest he’s been in ages!”

 

“Mr. Laughry!” I could just imagine her clutching her pearls.

 

“Listen, I pay you a fuck ton of money to prevent things like this from happening! You can’t blame her because your staff is inadequate.”

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laughry, but we’re not equipped to handle violent and sexually deviant patients. We can’t assume liability if these incidents keep happening. There was a long pause. “We’re going to need you to make other arrangements for her. We’ll give you the weekend, but by Monday she’ll need to vacate. I’m sorry.”

 

I ran my hand through my hair, wanting to pull it out I was so frustrated. “What exactly do you expect me to do?”

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laughry. But there’s nothing more I can do. She’s violated our rules too many times. We can’t make another exception. Someone on the staff will pack up her room for her. She’ll be ready on Monday.”

 

I hung up without bothering to say goodbye. Instead, I plopped down on my couch and picked the bottle back up again, taking another long swig. I was so ready for this nightmare of a day to be over. Fuck, this nightmare of a week.

 

The alcohol was beginning to numb the world in a much-needed way, and I was more than ready to not feel a thing. A half dozen swigs later, nothing seemed to matter and as the world and the room began to spin faster, I was glad I could just close my eyes on the couch and wait for it all to fade away.

 

 

 

Chapter Two

Cora

 

 

 

Thunder raged all around me. As I stood naked in the middle of Candlestick Park, it boomed in rapid succession.
Why am I naked in the middle of a ballpark?
Boom. Boom. Boom. Oh, because I’m throwing out the first pitch. To a bear. Of course.
I should probably start warming up then, but God that thunder is just getting louder and louder.

 

“Cora, open the door!”

 

I bolted up, my eyes blinking in the morning sunlight as I scanned my bedroom and reality set in. “Just a dream. A really freaky dream.”

 

The banging continued. Someone was trying to beat down my front door. I reached for my phone, considering calling the cops.

 

“Cora!” someone shouted, exasperation clear in the tone though his voice was muffled.

 

Okay, probably not an axe murderer. At least not a good one. I slipped out of bed and donned the first thing I could find, my baby blue fuzzy robe with sheep on it, before heading to the front door. God I hope this isn’t more paparazzi. I really can’t deal with that right now.

 

Pressing my eye to the peephole. Simon’s face stared back at me. I unbolted the lock and slid the chain off. “Simon what are you doing here?” I pulled him inside quickly and bolted the lock. “You should have called first.”

 

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I did. Three times. Jeez. I forgot how deeply you sleep. I’m almost afraid to know what would happen to you in an earthquake.” He paused, looking around my apartment for the first time. Suddenly I became very self-conscious. Simon had never been inside before. Hell, he’d never even been outside. How’d he get my apartment number? Mom… I sighed. 

 

I’d always gone to his place or met him out. I didn’t want him to see what a dump I lived in because I knew he’d do nothing but worry and try to make me take his money and move. I couldn’t let him do that.

 

“What are you doing here?” I asked again.

 

Simon made a circle motion with his finger. “We’ll talk about this later. But first, holy shit, Cora! What the hell happened yesterday? Every news outlet in L.A. has been covering the Breccan/Miranda meltdown and you, baby sister, seem to be at the center of it. For fuck’s sake, they made you a GIF!”

 

My eyes slid shut. Crap. I had some ‘splainin’ to do. “You should probably take a seat, Simon. There’s a lot I need to tell you.”

 

Simon eyed the futon, “You sure it’s safe?”

 

I picked up a throw pillow and threw it at him. “Jeez. It’s not like I live in a roach motel or something for crying out loud. Just because I don’t live in a luxury penthouse like you, doesn’t mean this place is crawling with bedbugs.” I looked around at my tiny apartment. “It may not be much, but it’s clean and it’s mine. I’m doing just fine without your help.” I narrowed my eyes at him when I saw him open his mouth with a retort. “Or your judgments.”

 

He held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, no judgment. I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. I just worry about you. Is this neighborhood even safe? One measly lock on the door?”

 

“Simon!”

 

“Fine, fine. I’ll drop it. Now tell me why Breccan was punching Miranda’s assistant and why she slapped you? What the fuck happened?”

 

I joined him on the couch and pulled a fuzzy yellow throw pillow on my lap, plucking at the strings on the ends. “It’s a really long story.”

 

“I have time.”

 

I drew a deep breath. “I guess it all started in Hong Kong.”

 

“Hong Kong? That was over a month ago!”

 

I swiped at him with the pillow. “Will you shut up and let me talk?”

 

Simon motioned like he was zipping his lips and I continued. “One of our last nights in Hong Kong, I went out late by myself to run an errand for Breccan and was attacked.”

 

Simon sucked in a breath next to me, but he didn’t say anything, letting me get this very painful memory out. Several times he growled under his breath and twice he stood, fisting his hands, and pacing angrily, but he never interrupted. Almost a half hour later, I’d spilled my guts and confessed everything to him. From Jude to Breccan to Miranda and Chase, he knew all of it. I felt exhausted getting it all out, but it was also a huge weight that had been lifted. It was liberating to be able to confide in my big brother again, and if anyone would be able to see all sides objectively and come up with a brilliant solution, it was Simon. It’s what made him so great at his job.

 

“So, now you know everything.” I squirmed, my hands in my lap as I awaited whatever he’d say. “What should I do, Simon?”

 

“That fucker is glad he’s dead. Or I’d be putting him in a grave right about now.”

 

“He can’t hurt anyone else,” I reminded him.

 

“He still got off too easy,” he punched the throw pillow next to him. “I’m so mad this happened to you, Cora. So mad I wasn’t there to stop it or at least help you through it.”

 

I wrapped my arms around Simon, “You’re here now.”

 

Cassidy decided to take that moment to begin her normal morning routine of having loud, wall-banging sex.

 

My eyes shut as I shook my head. Of course. Simon furrowed his brow, staring at the wall as Cassidy really ramped it up. “Yes! Oh fuck me, Nate. Fuck me right there. Yes, baby. Just like that. Fuck that feels so good. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

 

“Maybe we should go out to breakfast?” I suggested, avoiding the elephant in the room.

 

“That’s probably a good idea. In fact, why don’t you pack a bag, stay with me this weekend.” I opened my mouth to object, but Simon held up a hand. “I’m not saying this because you live in a hell hole. I’m saying this because right now you need to be around family who loves you. And after what happened yesterday, the press will continue to hound you here, but my doorman won’t let them anywhere near you. Okay? Will you bum around with me this weekend?”

 

He was giving me those sad puppy eyes that he knew I could never say no to, and he was probably right about the paparazzi. So I stood and trudged into my room, heading for my closet where I kept my Vera Bradley overnight bag—a gift from Simon last Christmas. “Fine. You win. But can we please invite Chase to brunch? After what happened, I really feel like I owe him big time. I mean, the guy got beat up because of me.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Simon called from the other room. “But we’re staying clear of Burbank. And Beverly Hills. And Hollywood for that matter. Jeez, we pretty much need to leave L.A. altogether. The last thing either of you needs is more paparazzi hanging around.”

 

              I shoved clothes and my toiletries into my bag. “If I never see another flash bulb go off in my face, it’ll be too soon. I have no idea how Breccan deals with that.”

 

I froze once his name slipped past my lips. His beautiful face popping in my mind. The pain of yesterday was still fresh, and saying his name was like pouring salt in the wound. Swallowing hard and blinking back tears, I wiped my eyes and grabbed my bag. Deciding to just ignore all things Breccan for now. I wasn’t ready to deal.

 

I walked back into the living room and set my overnight bag down. “Alright. I’m texting Chase now. Let’s get out of here before Cassidy goes for an encore.”

 

Simon scooped up my bag for me, fighting not to laugh. “I’m afraid to even ask.”

 

“Wise move,” I replied, grabbing, my keys and headed for the door.

 

 

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