Rules Are Made to Be Broen

'Here we go ladies, two screaming multiple orgasms, with my compliments' the barman gives us a wink as he sets our drinks down.

I take a long sip, buying myself a little time before giving in to Ruby's interrogation -- she'd been mercifully engaged in chatting to the driver on the cab ride over, and it's hard to yell over the music while we were dancing, but now she was making up for lost time.

'So, Crystal said he's hot -- how hot? Like, Mr Smith Hot?' Mr Smith was a regular client, one of my favourite silver foxes with old school tastes and a slight air of George Clooney at the right angle.

The man was a demon with a paddle in his hand, always left me panting for more.

'Way hotter.' I reply. 'And much younger.'

'Describe!' Ruby squeals back at me. I sigh.

'Well, he's about 6' 2", athletic build, definitely works out but doesn't overdo it, dark hair -- that sort of un-styled sexy bed head look, utterly stunning blue eyes and one of the best smiles I've ever seen.' I notice Ruby's gazing just over my shoulder 'Sorry, am I boring you? You did ask!'

'No, no,' she replies, 'I was just thinking, he must look a lot like that guy behind you.'

I spin round on my stool and sure enough, less than a metre away, Sam Byron is leaning casually against the bar, beaming directly at me. He's dressed in faded blue jeans and a crisp white shirt, buttoned down just enough to show off his tanned physique to perfection.

Shit. He must have heard everything. As I'm pondering how to limit the damage, he closes the space between us and blind sides me, with a delicate kiss on the cheek.

'Good to see you, Amber!' he chimes casually.

'Sam, Hi!' I reply, aiming for casual, failing miserably; my voice sounds much too high. 'This is my friend Ruby, Ruby, Sam Byron.' He takes her hand and kisses it. She blushes as pink as her lip gloss.

'It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Byron' she gushes,

'You too, and it's Sam, please.' He corrects, she flashes him a smile then looks at me.

'Well, uh, if you two will excuse me, I just need to go, um, powder my nose.' She gives me a wink that's anything but subtle and scarpers off.

Sam fixes his gaze on me again.

'She seems nice.' He says, sliding onto the stool Ruby's just vacated, pulling it closer so that his knee grazes mine. I ignore the jolt of pleasure the contact sends rushing through me.

'She is,' I reply, 'she's a good friend.'

'Friend... and colleague?' he ventures tentatively.

'Yes.' I confirm his suspicions. 'I'm not in the habit of discussing clients with people outside of the agency.' He smirks as I realise, I just eliminated any shadow of doubt that it was him I was just describing in all too enthusiastic detail.

Change of subject needed.

'So, did you have your driver follow me here too?' I ask, reclaiming a little equilibrium. He looks genuinely confused. 'Thank you for the flowers.' I prompt. He smiles unashamedly.

'Oh. You're very welcome. And no, I didn't follow you here -- my cousin owns the place. You being here is just a very pleasant surprise.' He states, matter of factly.

'Oh.' I feel chastised, but he still crossed a line. 'You do realise that was completely inappropriate though, right?' He shrugs impassively.

'I wanted to make sure you got home safely, so I told Harvey to wait until you were through the door.' He makes it sound much more conscientious than overbearing.

'Well thank you' I relent, 'The flowers are beautiful.' He grins, like a naughty school boy who's been let off the hook.

'So, if you're not mad, can I treat you to another orgasm?' I feel my eyes widen, and then notice him gesturing to my drink.

'No, thank you -- one cocktail is plenty -- Dan makes 'em strong.'

Hearing me mention his name, the barman gives me another wink and a smile. A flash of annoyance flickers across Sam's face.

'What is it with you and barmen?' he says, almost to himself.

'I come here every week.' I reply. 'He's a friend. And besides, he's very happily married.'

Why the hell am I justifying myself to Mr Green Eyed Monster? I wonder.

Still, his face softens and he perks back up, so I let it go.

'Okay, no more cocktails, how about a glass of your favourite fizz back at my hotel instead?' he asks.

'Sorry, I'm off duty -- already done my bit for today.' His face darkens again at my response, but he shakes it off quickly and continues.

'I meant off the clock -- no business, just mutually enjoyable company.' He states rather than asks, as though it's a foregone conclusion.

'I told you, Mr Byron, I don't date.' I reply plainly, already doubting my resolve.

'Neither do I.' He matches, 'But I'm just back in the country, I have no friends in the city, I've had a shitty day and I'd be very grateful for the company. I'll behave, I promise - unless you beg me not to.'

He raises a teasing eyebrow at me, but there's a tinge of sadness again in those soulful eyes and I can't stand to let him down. Plus, I can't deny I like the idea of spending some more time with him -- if only to get a better idea of what he's really like. I agree to go back with him and he beams triumphantly.

I find Ruby on the dance floor and let her know I'm leaving. She's full of smutty innuendo and accusations that make me roll my eyes at her.

'It's just a drink!' I state, convincing neither of us.

Sam's waiting for me when I get back; he takes me by the hand and leads me to the exit.

Of course, Harvey is waiting outside by the black Mercedes, and offers me a polite nod as he opens my door.

'Nice to see you again Harvey', I give him a knowing look,

'Miss Amber', he replies politely, giving nothing away. I'm not angry with him really. He was just doing his job. I know how that feels.

I slide into the car and Sam joins me on the back seat, smiling. He notices my slight shiver as my bare legs hit the cool leather and moves closer to me so that our thighs press together as he drapes his jacket around my shoulders and circling me with his arms.

'This isn't a date, remember?' I scold, narrowing my eyes at him.

'I know,' he replies, making no move to let go of me, 'you looked chilly so I'm warming you up, like any good friend would.' he states plainly, his lips dangerously close to mine. I fight the urge to kiss him for all I'm worth.

As we arrive back at the hotel, my head is full of memories of the last two nights and a flutter of anticipation runs through my body, taking residence between my legs. I give myself a mental shake, trying to reign in my own out of control desires. Thankfully, he's already getting out of the car and walking round to open my door, so doesn't notice.

He takes my hand and I don't fight it -- 'keeping up appearances' and all, and together we make our way to the hotel lobby. I feel distinctly underdressed compared to my last two visits, particularly with his beaten-up leather jacket still swamping my shoulders, but then I figure he almost constantly looks underdressed, so we probably make quite a good match. I catch a glimpse of us together in a reflection on the elevator door -- we do make an attractive couple. I chastise myself immediately. That's enough of that Jessica.

As we ride up in the lift to the top floor, I half expect him to pounce on me, but he's as good as his word and I'm annoyed with myself for feeling slightly disappointed about it. Though I'm sure I do feel his hand tighten around mine.

Back in his suite, we both relax a little. He puts on some soft music, and I enjoy the view of the city lit up below in all its neon glory while he busies himself at the mini bar. I notice a sketchbook on a table by the window, open at a pencil drawing of the same view, though in daytime. It's beautiful in its simplicity, capturing so much in just a few loose lines.

'Did you do this?' I ask as he joins me, handing over a glass of champagne. He nods and replies

'I'd have liked to photograph it, but my cameras are still in storage.'

'So, you're an artist as well as everything else?' I gush before I can stop myself. He gives a small laugh and shrugs

'I went to art school and I know one end of a pencil from the other. I'm not sure that's the same thing.' His self-deprecating modesty is strangely endearing.

'Well, I'm no art critic,' I reply, 'but this is beautiful' I add, gesturing to his sketch.

'That's kind of you to say' he smiles, 'Shall we-' he inclines his glass toward the plush sofa. I nod and we sit down together, facing each other, achingly close, but not touching. My head swims a little as I take in his proximity. His calm, self-assured presence makes me feel anything but and I'm struggling to ignore the thought of his mouth on mine.

'What's made today such a shitty one then?', I ask, taking a sip of champagne to distract myself from my own imagination.

'Oh, just ghosts of the past,' he mutters, dragging his fingers through his hair, 'nothing worth talking about.' his expression darkens, betraying his words. 'Besides, it turned around pretty fast when you agreed to come and keep me company, so I can hardly complain.' He smiles, the way he switches from one mood to another so seamlessly is hard to keep up with. 'Hungry?' He asks.

'A little.' I reply.

He phones down to reception and orders us room service. I'm slightly annoyed that he's ordering for me even when I'm not being paid to be here, but it's kind of him to offer so I decide against making a big deal of it.

'So, this is a very different look' he muses, gesturing to my dress and boots.

'This is the real me,' I shrug, 'Most clients want something more glamorous, a little classier, or a little kinkier, but when I'm off the clock, this is what you get.'

'I like it, a lot.' He smiles approvingly and I can feel myself blushing, even more so when a momentary lapse in control prompts him to stroke the smooth flesh exposed by my short dress riding up my thighs.

I'm relieved for the knock at the door as a pretty waitress delivers a tray of food. She practically swoons as Sam opens the door. I roll my eyes, but I'm glad it's not Jake at least. As he lets her in, I stand up and head back to the window to re-visit the view, but mostly to get control of my own urges.

'Shall we do it on the floor?' he asks, I turn to look at him in shock, 'The food!' he grins 'Floor picnic?' He's spread the dishes of food out on the rug and added cushions for us each to sit on. His grin is contagious; I return it and nod,

'Sounds good.'

Kicking off my boots, I join him on the floor, stretching my legs out in front of me and crossing them at the ankle. It makes my dress ride dangerously high, but I figure he's seen me naked twice, so there's no point in being shy. Besides, this is hopefully my chance to satisfy my curiosity, and if he's distracted by me flashing a little flesh, he might be less guarded with his answers.

'So, what's your deal Mr Byron?' I ask, dipping a carrot stick into a delicious sour cream dip. He's done it again I notice -- ordered annoyingly perfectly -- a wonderful selection of post clubbing picky finger food. He regards me cautiously.

'Who is Sam Byron?' I continue, 'What does he do, and how come he's staying in a luxury hotel with a chauffeur at his beck and call?'

'Well,' he replies, struggling to keep his eyes off my legs, 'I'm your typical poor little rich boy orphan!' I wince a little, regretting the question. His face softens though, and I'm relieved he's not annoyed by my bluntness. He continues.

'As you know, my parents passed away five years ago. My dad was a very successful business man. He and his sister were partners -- that's my Aunt Louisa, who you mistook for my mistress' he adds, teasing me. I look down at the food and pick up some French bread to avoid saying anything stupid. 'I'm an only child, so that made me heir to a multi-million-pound inheritance and my father's share of the business.' He rakes his fingers through his dark curls again, this is obviously hard for him to talk about, I start to doubt whether I should have asked.

'Unfortunately, I was 21, totally fucked up and full of rage at losing my parents, so I did what any mature young man in that situation would do.' He pauses and takes a sip of champagne. 'I went off the rails, travelling the world, throwing money around, trying to make myself feel better!'

'Did it work?' Instantly I hate myself for asking such a stupid question.

'Not exactly.' He replies with half a smile. 'I was too angry at everything to appreciate anything. I was drinking too much, picking fights, lashing out... I landed in a bit of trouble in Vegas about six months in. I'd started messing around with some, let's say colourful characters, wound up being arrested for possession despite the fact I've never touched drugs in my life.'

'Ouch.' I reply.

'Yeah, it was a wakeup call, for sure. I was out of control, on a one-way track to self-destruction.' He sighs heavily then continues 'Anyway, my aunt bailed me out; on the condition that I changed my ways and sorted myself out. That was about four and a half years ago.'

'So where have you been since then?' my curiosity gets the better of me, but he doesn't seem to mind.

'I wasn't ready to come back to the UK, so my aunt arranged for me stay with a family friend and business associate of hers at his place in California. He's ex-army as well as a self-made millionaire, so I suspect she hoped he'd pass on some business acumen as well as straighten out my inner bad boy.' He gives me a wry smile and I can't help wondering just how much of a bad boy he was.

'And did he?' I ask, eager to keep the information flowing.

'Yes and no.' There's a devious glint in his eye.

'He taught me plenty about business; he's the CEO of his own multi facet company over there and I shadowed him a few days a week, learned about project management, networking, brokering deals -- but above all else, he made me realise the importance of me being capable of taking over my father's company. Not just out of respect to him, but because of the hundreds of people employed there, the thousands more who depend on its existence for so many different reasons. My dad was always my hero -- he took such good care of my mum & me, but I guess I never realised how many other people depended on him too.' He looks up from his drink to gauge my reaction to this unexpected openness and I smile, encouraging him to go on.

He takes a breath and does.

'To be honest, I felt totally out of my depth. I was clueless about the corporate world, but Mr Cohen reassured me, said I was a natural at knowing how to read people & that was the most important skill to help motivate them and take control.' his emphasis on the last word makes me flush.

'And what about your inner bad boy?' my voice is unintentionally husky and breathy

'Let's just say he gave him a new direction... and purpose.' He grins sardonically and I think I can work out what that direction was. 'Mr Cohen is a Dominant.' he states plainly, confirming my suspicions, 'he said he saw a lot of his younger self in me; too smart for my own good, rebellious, full of anger with no way of venting it. He taught me self-discipline, and how to take back control in all things and introduced me to an avenue to exercise it.'

'Submissives.' I whisper, filling in the blank for myself. He nods,

'Exactly. As well as hooking me up with a personal trainer -- an ex professional kick boxer who took great delight in putting me on my arse three times a week. He's a great guy though -- took me to all the best spots for surfing too.'

'Well that explains the incredible toned and tanned physique.' I mutter, realising too late I've said the words out loud.

'Incredible, huh?' He grins, cocking his head to one side. I can only blush in reply and drain my champagne glass so as to distract him with topping it up.

'Well, the 'incredible physique'' his eyes glint at me wolfishly and I know I'm blushing, 'is a by-product really. Cohen insisted on the personal trainer to help vent the pent-up aggression; he was very clear that I shouldn't ever take that out on the girls I spent time with. A Dominant's role is to exercise control and only ever administer punishment and/or pain as a training tool, in pursuit of testing limits or for mutual pleasure.' He sounds like he's reciting a text book from memory, yet it's strangely arousing.

'He must have been a good teacher.' My inner monologue escapes me again and I catch him smiling at me, enjoying watching me squirm.

'That he was. Although in his words, I'm a natural born Dominant, so he didn't actually have much work to do. The hard bit was getting me back in control of myself.' His expression darkens a little as if he's recalling a painful memory. 'Everything else fell into place very naturally, and taking control in the bedroom helps me to stay focussed at work and in all other aspects of my life too. Plus, it's immensely pleasurable, obviously.' He fixes me with a blatant look of animalistic hunger.

'So, what finally brought you home?' I ask, trying to get back on safer ground and ignore the way he's making my pulse race a little faster.

'Aunt Lou. She's looking to retire within the next year or two; her son already has his hands full running his own business, so she needs an heir to the Byron Enterprises throne sooner rather than later, and you're looking at him.'

'So, you're working with her now?' I ask and he nods.

'The long-term plan is for me to take over as CEO, but understandably, she wants me to prove myself first. It's a big company, lots of options; I need to find a project that feels like a good fit, or start something of my own. Stop pissing my life away, as my wonderful Aunt puts it.' He adds.

'Sounds like a smart lady.'

'She is. Very. She insisted that I needed a driver -- Harvey, he doubles as personal security, which feels completely unnecessary, but I'm pretty sure he's mostly a spy to make sure I don't go off the rails again.' he says light heartedly.

'Aren't you worried he'll report back about mystery women arriving at your hotel?' I ask and he laughs,

'I hadn't thought of that. There's only been one woman though.' He says deliberately, 'And no, I'm not worried -- he's very discreet. He's great actually -- he used to be my dad's driver, it's nice having him around.'

He pauses to pop an olive in his mouth and shift his weight so that he's leaning closer towards me as he stretches his long legs out in front of him, mimicking mine. I love the way his body moves; there's nothing sexier to me than a man so comfortable in his own skin.

'Anyway,' he continues, 'Aunt Lou recommended my first project should be making a home for myself, so that's what I've been doing. The place I bought needed some work, so I'm staying here while it's done.'

'I see.' I reply, forcing myself to maintain eye contact and not gaze longingly at his outstretched form.

'So, is that a good enough back story for you Miss Amber?' he questions, head cocked to one side, eyes twinkling again. I stretch out and shrug nonchalantly,

'I guess so. All pretty standard really.' I tease. He smiles then continues.

'Now what about you; what's Miss Amber's back story?' he asks, regarding me intently.

Much as I'm enjoying finding out about him, I'm still not sure how much I want to give away about myself, so I keep it brief.

'There's not much to tell really. I've lived here all my life, I'm from a small family -- one brother as you know, mum and dad both retired and living in the suburbs and I work in an antique book shop in between having floor picnics with eligible young bachelors.' I smile brightly but he eyes me with an unimpressed look; of course, that's not the information he was looking for.

Playing the distraction card again I sit up and lean across him to retrieve the olive dish, knowingly allowing him a clear view down my dress. 'So, what sort of renovations are you having done at your new place?' I ask, popping an olive in my mouth. His expression changes to one of slight amusement.