Rule's Property (The House of Rule 2)

Nick watched her as she nodded her head and then took the elevator down.

****

Five times that day he walked past her office and five times, she was safely inside. The first time he'd walked by, her office door had been ajar and he'd noticed immediately that she wasn't wearing her rings. It pissed him off, upset him, but he'd slid the ring from his finger and put it in his pocket, in a move that, he hoped, was a show of respect for her wishes. What they were going through was between the two of them only; he wasn't going to make this any harder for her than it needed to be.

She must have seen him walk by, because after that, her door had been firmly closed. At five on the dot, he went by again. Her office door was open but she wasn't there. Grimacing, he took the elevator up.

Thank God, he heard her moving around her suite.

Not wanting to rush her, trying his damn best to be considerate, he ordered in food and went to have a shower before it was delivered.

An hour later, he knocked on her door. "Hey. You want to come eat with me?"

A few seconds passed and then her door opened. She was dressed in faded jeans and a university t-shirt, and without meeting his eyes, she went into the kitchen.

He leaned against the counter as she opened the boxes, and the sight of her bare ring finger almost did him in.

In silence, she prepared a plate for him and then a smaller version for herself. They ate together, sitting casually on the barstools, and just as quickly as she'd consumed the tiny helping, she left the room, mumbling, "I have a headache. I'm going to soak in the tub. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he gritted out, frustration and utter helplessness eating him alive.

****

For two solid weeks, their days and evenings followed the same routine. They went to work, went upstairs to the penthouse, ate in silence, and then Courtney would shut herself inside her room.

Ever since Courtney had begun working in the Rule Tower, she'd spent very few nights at the house with his mother, and only when he'd been out of town. Nick assumed the family thought they were just roommates, sharing the penthouse. He'd had no conversations with anyone in his family about it, and Courtney's belongings were still scattered between both locations.

She still wouldn't open up to Nick and day by long-suffering day, he continued to give her time to come to grips, leaving her almost completely to herself. But every time she left the building, which was rare, he experienced a flare of panic, and had to force himself not to demand she stay; he had to force himself not to follow her, to give her some space.

Finally admitting the truth; he knew he'd been scared to push her, afraid she'd make a move to end the marriage. He didn't like the admission; the knowledge pissed him off. It went against every instinct he had within himself not to take action.

But as the days and nights went by with zero to little interaction between them, he felt his anger and frustration begin to boil to the surface. He knew he couldn't go on like this much longer; he was fast getting tired of this shit. The time he'd been giving her to realize that they belonged together was about up.

His mood shifting even lower, he remembered their last real conversation where she'd so prettily told him that she loved the man he'd become, would love him forever while at the same time explaining why they couldn't be together. Resentment built like a time bomb in his gut.

So, she liked the man he'd become? That was damn good, because she was about to find out that he always got what he wanted. And in this case, what he wanted was marriage to her forever.

Yeah, damn, fucking good she liked the man he'd become.

She was about to get to know that man a little more fully.

Chapter Eight

Nick reached his breaking point a day later and there was no way he could allow Courtney to slip away from him again. He opened a bottle of wine, and when he called her from her room to eat supper, he had everything already laid out in the living room, ready for a casual meal at the coffee table.

He'd chosen a new release movie, an instant download, and as she sat, he asked if she'd seen it. Shaking her head, she glanced around with a look of mild panic before reluctantly sinking onto the sofa where he'd strategically placed her meal next to his.

He knew the change of location and the bottle of wine were causing that look of fear on her face, but son-of-a-bitch, he was fighting for his life here, for their happiness. Pushing her anxiety from his mind, he refused to change the course he'd set out for the evening.