By his rule, p.1

By His Rule, page 1

 

By His Rule
Select Voice:
Brian (uk)
Emma (uk)  
Amy (uk)
Eric (us)
Ivy (us)
Joey (us)
Salli (us)  
Justin (us)
Jennifer (us)  
Kimberly (us)  
Kendra (us)
Russell (au)
Nicole (au)



Larger Font   Reset Font Size   Smaller Font  
By His Rule


  BY HIS RULE

  CALLAHAN BILLIONAIRES

  TRACY LORRAINE

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  1. Lorelei

  2. Lorelei

  3. Lorelei

  4. Lorelei

  5. Kian

  6. Lorelei

  7. Kian

  8. Lorelei

  9. Kian

  10. Lorelei

  11. Lorelei

  12. Kian

  13. Lorelei

  14. Lorelei

  15. Kian

  16. Lorelei

  17. Kian

  18. Lorelei

  19. Kian

  20. Lorelei

  21. Lorelei

  22. Lorelei

  23. Kian

  24. Lorelei

  25. Lorelei

  26. Kian

  27. Lorelei

  28. Kian

  29. Lorelei

  30. Kian

  31. Lorelei

  32. Kian

  33. Lorelei

  34. Kian

  35. Lorelei

  36. Kian

  37. Lorelei

  38. Kian

  39. Lorelei

  40. Lorelei

  41. Lorelei

  42. Kian

  43. Lorelei

  44. Kian

  45. Lorelei

  46. Lorelei

  47. Kian

  48. Lorelei

  49. Lorelei

  50. Kian

  51. Lorelei

  52. Kian

  53. Lorelei

  54. Kian

  55. Lorelei

  56. Kian

  57. Lorelei

  58. Kian

  59. Lorelei

  60. Kian

  61. Lorelei

  62. Kian

  63. Lorelei

  64. Lorelei

  65. Kian

  66. Lorelei

  67. Kian

  68. Lorelei

  69. Lorelei

  70. Kian

  71. Lorelei

  72. Lorelei

  Epilogue

  Hate You

  About the Author

  Also by Tracy Lorraine

  Copyright © 2024 by Tracy Lorraine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Development Editing by Pinpoint Editing

  Content Editing by Rebecca at Fairest Reviews Editing Services

  Proofreading by Lisa Staples

  Photography - Michelle Lancaster

  Model - Tommy Gram

  The things you regret most in life are the risks you didn’t take.

  PROLOGUE

  Lorelei

  “You look lonely.” The deep, familiar voice rumbles through me as his shadow swallows me whole.

  Sucking in a deep, hopefully calming breath through my nose, I close my eyes and pray for strength.

  I love my best friend dearly. She has been hands down the best person who has ever entered my life. But the world she inhabits, the people she is connected with…yeah…not exactly my type.

  I come from nothing, and despite working my ass off to try and better my life, I already know that I’ll leave this Earth with exactly the same as I entered it. Unlike those currently surrounding me.

  Watching Tatum get married was…a headfuck.

  She looked beautiful—beyond beautiful. She was a vision wrapped up in the most incredible dress. She was so perfect that no one else in the room would believe that she was suffering from the effects of our drinking session last night.

  She wanted to be good, but I’m pretty sure she was lying to herself from the second she thought about those intentions, let alone said them out loud.

  She was marrying her brother’s best friend. A jerk she’s spent her entire life hating. A man her father handed her over to in his will. And if she wants to secure her inheritance, then she has to see it through for a year.

  Crazy? Yeah, totally fucking crazy.

  But also…

  Some might say it’s romantic in a way—secretly, I might just be one of them.

  They’ve been enemies their whole lives, both doing anything they can to rile the other up. Now they’ve been brought together in a way they never expected, and well…who knows what the future will hold?

  The sparks are already flying—and not just the angry ones.

  They’re hot together. Anyone with eyes can see that.

  Disappointment niggles inside me, but I don’t have time to focus on the fact I’m here as Tatum’s only bridesmaid, alone.

  Instead, I straighten my spine and attempt to prepare myself for turning toward Kingston’s best man, his younger brother Kian.

  “Not lonely, just…taking a moment,” I say coolly.

  Refusing to look at him, I track the closest barman’s movements in the hope he can feel my burning stare and supply me with something that will help me get through the next few minutes.

  But it never happens—he’s too busy with a group of pretentious older men who are drinking top-shelf whiskey as if it’s water.

  The overt show of wealth makes my skin crawl.

  “Well, you look too good to be having a moment alone. Care if I join you?”

  But it’s too late, he’s already sitting on the stool beside me as if there isn’t a chance in the world of me saying no.

  I guess that’s the kind of ego you grow when ninety-nine percent of the female population wants to screw your brains out.

  Well, Kian Callahan, welcome to the one percent who would rather scratch their eyes out with a corkscrew than worship at your stupidly expensive shoes.

  Schooling my features, I finally spin on my stool to face him.

  “Seems like a pointless question, don’t you think?” I ask, dropping my eyes down to where he’s sitting.

  If I didn’t know that his navy suit had been tailored to fit him to perfection, then it wouldn’t be hard to figure it out. The way he wears it…well, it’s probably the only positive thing I can come up with about him, if I’m being honest.

  That and just how fucking good-looking he is.

  I bite down on the inside of my cheek.

  It’s not fair. In fact, it’s really fucking unfair that, not only was he born into one of the wealthiest families in the country, enabling him to walk straight into a high-profile, well-paying, and powerful job, but he was also gifted with model-like looks.

  How are the rest of us mere mortals meant to compete with the likes of him?

  A rush of copper fills my mouth as bitterness floods my veins.

  “I’m amazed I’m the first to try and join you,” he says smoothly before looking in the direction of the barman and immediately getting his attention. Of course.

  It physically pains me not to roll my eyes.

  “Macallan, please,” Kian orders. “And another—” He glances over at me for confirmation of what I’m drinking.

  I refuse to comply or allow him to buy me a drink. Buy—what a joke. Of course this wedding includes an open bar. Other than watching my best friend say her vows, it’s the best part of the whole day. Hopefully, if I drink enough, I’ll be able to ignore the stench of pretense that permeates the room.

  You could leave, a little voice says.

  Tate has gone. Kingston literally dragged her away to celebrate their nuptials alone.

  Lucky her…

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  Kian’s eyes narrow in irritation before his hand darts out, stealing my glass from the bar before me.

  “What are you⁠—”

  “Porn star martini,” he says to the barman after sniffing my glass. My chin drops. “She’ll take another.”

  “H-how did you…” I stutter like a fool once the barman has retreated.

  He smirks, making perfectly symmetrical dimples pop in his cheeks before he winks cockily.

  Jesus.

  “I’m not just a pretty face, Lorelei,” he rasps, his smirk growing.

  His voice flows through me, and damn him if my thighs don’t involuntarily clench.

  It’s a natural reaction to a virile man, I try telling myself. It has to be that because there is no way on earth I’m in any way attracted to this arrogant jerk.

  “Debatable,” I mutter under my breath as I turn my attention back to the bottles lining the bar. They’re almost as pretty, and they certainly contain less bullshit.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he says, shifting his stool closer so that the heat of his arm warms mine.

  “Yes, you did,” I say confidently. “Was there something you wanted other than to interrupt my peace, Kian?”

  I don’t look over to see his reaction. I don’t need to. The reflection of the gold trim that covers the bar does the job perfectly well.

  His nostrils flare and he sucks in a sharp breath as his lips part in surprise.

  I mentally give myself a high five. I’m not sure it’s often anyone gets the upper hand when it comes to any of the Callahan brothers.

  “I don’t feel like we got off on the right foot,” he says, attempting to turn this back around again.

  “Is that right?”

  We’ve actually met a few times over the years, thanks to our mutual friends, but I don’t know him. I’ve never cared to.

  He exudes more than enough of everything I hate to put me off for a lifetime.

  I guess it should be expected that he’s forgotten we’re already acquainted. He was with some fake blonde bimbo the first time we met, and he was as big an asshole that night as he has been every other time I’ve met him.

  “I was merely pointing out that it’s tradition that the best man and Maid of Honor hook up at a wedding if they’re single.”

  “Then I guess it’s good that I’m not single, isn’t it?” I retort as our drinks are placed before us and my feet hit the floor.

  “If that’s true, then he isn’t worthy of you.”

  Walk away.

  Just walk away.

  “And why is that?” I ask, unable to follow my own advice.

  Spinning on the balls of my feet, I find myself at eye level with him. Many would cower the second his eyes locked on theirs. But while I may not be as powerful or as important as him or anyone else in this room, I refuse to bow down to them.

  Money doesn’t make you more important. Your job title doesn’t make you more or less worthy of anyone’s time or attention.

  The only thing that matters is the kind of person you are. And the one staring back at me with a mixture of mirth and expectation lighting up his green eyes is a selfish jerk who only cares about his reputation.

  “Because a beautiful woman like you should never be attending an event like this alone if you’re not single.”

  I raise a brow but keep my expression neutral.

  “It’s a huge risk when, instead of missing him…” he explains before throwing his whiskey back and pushing to his feet, moving closer. He towers over me even in my heels, forcing me to raise my chin to keep eye contact. “You could be spending your time getting to know me better.”

  His alcohol-laced breath rushes over me and his eyes bounce between mine as if I’m meant to be…what? Impressed at that pathetic attempt to pick me up?

  “Fortunately for him, it’s a risk he doesn’t need to worry about. Goodnight, Kian. Good luck with your next victim.” And with those words hanging in the air between us, I walk away, making sure I put as much sway into my hips as possible.

  1

  LORELEI

  “I’m sorry, Lorelei, but we have reason to believe you’ve been stealing from the company. We have no choice but to let you go.”

  My heart stops and my blood turns to ice, my entire body freezing as I stare at my boss in disbelief.

  I’ve felt fear before in my life, but this moment is right up there with the worst.

  I’m not a thief.

  Not even close.

  I’ve never…

  Okay, that’s a lie. There have been times in my past where I’ve made bad decisions. But only because there was no other choice.

  My childhood…it wasn’t like my best friend’s or of any of the people in my life now.

  It was hard. Brutal at times.

  Times when we didn’t have money or food, and never any heating or hot water.

  Sometimes things were so desperate there was only one way of getting the things we needed.

  But that was then. I left that life behind when I got accepted into my place at college, when I left my hometown and started over.

  I haven’t worked this damn hard to throw it all away by stealing from this insufferable jerk.

  “S-Stealing?” I stutter, unable to believe what I’m hearing.

  “Yes. Stealing. From right under our noses.”

  “I haven’t. I wouldn’t. I⁠—”

  “I’m sure it goes without saying that your employment here has been terminated with immediate effect,” he says cooly and calmly. As if this isn’t affecting his life in any way.

  But then, I guess it’s not.

  He’s hated me from the first day I started here. He’s probably silently celebrating that he’s finally found what he believes is a concrete reason to get rid of me.

  “You can’t do this. You don’t have any evidence.”

  His brow lifts as amusement and accomplishment glitter in his dark, calculating eyes.

  “I’m willing to hand what I do have over to the authorities if I need to,” he warns.

  “Or?” I ask, anger beginning to overtake the disbelief.

  “Or you can leave and put your time here behind you.”

  Sounds awfully convenient.

  I don’t love my job.

  In fact, I fucking hate it. But that’s not the point.

  I need it. I need it and the money I earn more than anyone here could understand.

  He leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest as if he’s already won.

  I’d love to fight him on this, but I can’t afford it. The smug asshole knows it too.

  I can’t risk a cent of the money I’ve got in my bank account, even more so now that I’m unlikely to get any more out of this place.

  I’ve given it my all for two years. Sure, it’s far from my dream job. It’s not the reason I came to Chicago, but I always hoped it would be a good steppingstone to get where I really want to be.

  I close my eyes for a beat and one building, one company, comes to mind.

  I was in my junior year in high school when I came across a job advertisement for a well-known hospitality company. I immediately Googled them, and right there and then, I promised myself that I’d do whatever it took to get there.

  I was desperate to live in a cool city. To have a fancy job. To commute, to live in a flashy apartment. To spend my evenings out with friends and party as hard as I worked.

  The excitement I felt when I received my college acceptance letter was beyond ridiculous. I was giddy in a way I’d never felt before.

  It was my first step to the life I’d been dreaming of.

  Girls like me who come from families like mine don’t get the opportunity to go to college. They don’t get to leave their hometown, let alone get a chance to embark on their dream life and career.

  I told myself that I was one of the lucky ones. But really, it was nothing but hard work and dogged determination.

  Dragging my eyes open, I focus on my boss. My ex-boss.

  “You’re making a mistake,” I warn.

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  With my head held high, I turn my back on him, desperately trying to ignore my rising emotions.

  I need to hang onto the anger. If I’m focused on how best to hurt him, then I’m less likely to crumble into body-trembling sobs.

  I’ve experienced my fair share of them recently, and my asshole of a boss isn’t worthy of them.

  Nor was the first jerk who caused them, but here we fucking are.

  The office is suspiciously empty as I make my way back to my desk with my eyes burning and my nose itching with my need to cry.

  Fighting the lump that’s growing faster than I can control in my throat, I gather up the few things I care about on my desk and place them in my purse.

  I’ve got two photos of me and Tate. One at graduation and another on a holiday last summer. The sight of my best friend makes my need to cry even more insistent. I grab the plant she bought me for my first day that I’ve somehow managed to keep alive, and then leave everything else.

  This place was never my home. It was just a stopgap until I found something better.

  Unfortunately, that something better hasn’t made itself known.

  It gets even harder to contain my frustration when the warm autumn air hits my face.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I look up to the sky and silently beg my eyes to contain the tears.

  Wait until you get home.

  Woman up. You’re stronger than this.

  You’re better than this.

  I take three steps away from the office I never want to look at again when my watch buzzes with a notification.

  I almost ignore it. I’m too lost in my own misery to focus on anything someone might have sent me. Assuming it’s not just a spam email, of course.

  Or worse…him.

  My heart knots as the face of the man I once believed was the one, fills my mind.

  Hopeful now, that he’s finally got the message to leave me alone, I shift everything in my arms and dig my phone from the bottom of my purse, praying it’s someone with some good news. Hell knows I could use a little positivity in my life right now.

  And to think I assumed that finding out my loyal and doting boyfriend was actually living a double life, was as low as things were going to get for me…

  How fucking delusional I was.

  Hendrix: I failed.

 

Add Fast Bookmark
Load Fast Bookmark
Turn Navi On
Turn Navi On
Turn Navi On
Scroll Up
Turn Navi On
Scroll
Turn Navi On
183