Breaking The Rules

Chapter2

The heavy rain had finally burned off by morning, leaving a suffocating, gray fog hanging over the city skyline like a dark shroud.

I stood inside Harrison’s top-floor executive suite, my fingers clenched so tightly inside my coat pockets that my nails dug painfully into my palms. Across the sprawling mahogany desk, Harrison sat watching me with the lazy, clinical detachment of a cat toying with a cornered mouse. He casually swirled amber liquid in a crystal tumbler, his gaze never leaving my face.

“Two million dollars,” I said, cutting straight through the heavy silence. “I need you to lend me two million dollars.”

Harrison leaned back, a faint, mocking smile touching the corner of his mouth. “Two million? That’s an astronomical figure for a sudden morning drop-in, Sandra. What could possibly require that kind of liquid cash overnight?”

“It’s an emergency,” I snapped, forcing down the bitter lump rising in my throat. “I'll pay you back with interest, whatever percentage you want. Just give me the loan.”

“An emergency,” he repeated smoothly.

He stood up, unbuttoning his tailored suit jacket with deliberate slowness. He rounded the desk, closing the distance between us until the rich, suffocating scent of his cedar cologne enveloped me.

“You rejected me at your salon yesterday, treated me like a plague, and now you walk into my office begging for two million dollars without even telling me what it’s for?” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave.

“It doesn't matter what it's for!” My voice cracked as absolute desperation broke through my armor. “I wouldn't be standing here if I had any other choice, Harrison!”

He looked down at me for a long, agonizing moment, taking in the pale shadows beneath my eyes and my trembling frame.

“I don't do standard bank loans, Sandra,” he said softly.

My heart slammed against my ribs. “Okay . . . what do you want?”

A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips. He raised a hand, his long fingers brushing a stray strand of hair back from my cheek. The contact sent an electric wave of pure revulsion straight down my spine.

“Spend the night with me,” he whispered, silk and poison. “Just one night, and the two million is wired to your account before sunrise.”

Nausea surged hot and violent in my throat. The full, filthy weight of his extortion crashed down on me.

Slap!

I violently struck his hand away from my face, my eyes blazing with absolute fury. “I would rather die than let you touch me.”

Without waiting another second, I spun on my heel and bolted out of the office, the heavy oak doors swinging shut behind me.

---

Tears of sheer humiliation blurred the highway as I gripped the steering wheel, so tightly my knuckles turned chalk-white. Harrison’s voice echoed in my head like a sickness.

He knew I was backed into a corner. He had smelled my terror and tried to auction off my husband's survival.

My mind raced through options as I drove. What about friends? No. Tony was fiercely private; aside from me, his sister Deborah, and a handful of work associates, he had no safety net. No wealthy circle to call in a favor.

My fingers shook as I pulled into the parking lot of my salon. The digital clock on my dashboard read 10:45 AM. Deborah was locked in back-to-back surgeries at the hospital, calling her right now was useless.

I walked into the salon, my mind spinning so fast I barely registered. Tiana greeted me at the front desk. I locked myself inside my private office, collapsing into my desk chair.

My parents.

A dry, desperate laugh slipped past my lips. How had I completely forgotten them? For all their flaws and distance, they had the wealth and connections to pull Tony out of the fire. Panic had blinded me so thoroughly that I had run straight into a monster's trap before even remembering my own blood.

I grabbed my phone, ready to dial my father’s number. But before my thumb hit the screen, the office door handle jiggled violently.

The heavy oak door swung open without a knock.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I looked up. Standing in the doorway was Tony, his face completely bloodshot, his chest heaving as if he had sprinted all the way from his car.

“Tony?” I dropped my phone, jumping to my feet. “What are you doing here? What happened?”

He slammed the door shut behind him, his hands trembling violently as he held up his phone, the screen flashing with an open email.

“They just sent another notice,” Tony choked out, his voice cracking with raw panic. “The Daniels Group . . . They didn't wait a week. They cut our deadline down to five days.”

My blood ran ice-cold. “Five days?”

“And that's not the worst of it,” Tony whispered, running a shaking hand over his face. “They made it crystal clear. If I don't prove the transaction wasn't fraudulent and clear my name by then, they’re not just walking away from the contract, they’re going public. They’re going to completely trash my reputation, leak fabricated fraud charges to every major news outlet, and destroy everything I've built.