Rule, page 1
Copyright © 2023
Rule by Cassandra Robbins
ISBN: 9798394979477
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or scanned in any manner without written permission of the author, except in the need of quotes for reviews only.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and establishments are the product of the author’s imagination or are used to provide authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Edited: Nikki Busch Editing
Copy Edit: Jenny Sims Editing 4 Indies
Cover Design: Emily Wittig Designs
Formatting and proofing: Elaine York, Allusion Publishing
Cover Photo: Michelle Lancaster
Cover Model: Chase Mattson
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Dedication
Playlist
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Power Sneak Peek
Chapter One - Power
Coming Soon
Join My Reader Group
Other Books by Cassandra Robbins
Connect
Acknowledgments
About the Author
FOR NIKKI
PLAYLIST
The High - Bryce savage
We Go Down Together - Dove Cameron & Khaild
Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish
S&M – Rihanna
Candy - Doja Cat
Not Afraid - Eminem
Die For You - The Weekend
Bad Habit - Steve Lacy
Perfect - Ed Sheeran
Shivers - Ed Sheeran
Anti-Hero - Taylor Swift
Umbrella – Rihanna, JAY Z
Thousand Miles - The Kid Laroi
Flowers - Miley Cryus
My Heart Will Go On - Céline Dion
So What – Miles Davis
Either Way - Eva Grace
Nothing Compares 2 U - Sinéad O’Connor
Slave To Love - Bryan Ferry
Greatest Love – Ciara
For Your Entertainment – Adam Lambert
Without Me – Eminem
Those Eyes - New West
Me & U – Cassie
T.I. – Whatever You Like
Crazy In Love – Beyoncé, JAY-Z
Poker Face – Lady Gaga
BRETT POWERS
PASADENA, CALIFORNIA
“I can’t make it up, Richard.” I lean forward for my glass of scotch while he throws back his head and laughs.
“I mean, when I saw my mom and the priest walking toward the bathroom… Christ.” Shaking my head, I lean back in the leather chair.
My mentor stands and walks to his desk, retrieving a box of Cuban cigars. “Well, I’m happy for Jett.” He hands me one and steps over to open his French doors, which leads to his manicured backyard. Sunlight reflects off the pool, and the giant inflatable pink flamingo in it slowly glides to the edge.
“Diane is threatening to divorce me if I don’t open these doors when I enjoy the last of my vices.” He chuckles, walking back to his chair as the air conditioner clicks on.
“We can go outside.” I grin.
“Hell no, it’s too hot out.” He crosses his thin legs and reaches for the cigar cutter to swiftly slice off the end of his cigar, then hands it to me.
“Brett.” He sighs, absently looking out the doors as the warm air from the afternoon fills his office. “It’s no secret I’ve been tossing around the idea of retiring…” He glances at me as I hesitate, knowing where this is going but needing to hear it.
“I’m seventy-six years old.” He flicks on his black torch lighter and slowly spins the end on the flame until it glows nice and orange before he brings it to his lips and takes a small puff.
I lean back, stretching out my legs, waiting, letting him have this moment. Richard used to be a heavy smoker. After having a mild heart attack a couple of years ago, he’s switched his habit to expensive cigars. Smoke swirls out of his mouth, and he takes another puff, then tosses me the torch lighter.
“I’ve made my mark on the university. Gave up numerous things in my life to achieve where I am, and now…” His brown eyes turn to me as he points the cigar my way. “It’s your turn.”
I sit up and lean over to light the tip of my cigar. “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want it.” With a smile, I place the fragrant tip in my mouth and take an easy puff, the earthy, citrusy taste swirling around as I let it escape, and look at him.
“You do understand that what I’m about to do will make you the youngest head dean in the school’s history?” He recrosses his legs.
“Yes.” My voice remains steady. This is what I have been working for, and being the youngest dean in the university’s history, yeah, that makes my cock hard.
“Jenners is going to cause a stink. He believes it should be his. Convince me that he’s wrong.”
My eyes narrow, and the edges of my lips curve up. “I don’t have to convince you, Richard. It’s pretty simple. I’m a genius. He’s not.”
Richard snorts. “You’re also arrogant and single.”
“Exactly. I have zero distractions because I’m married to my work. Might as well give me the title.” I grin, bringing the cigar back to my mouth.
“Brett, you need to know that we have started the vetting process. Is there anything I need to know? Being a chair and vice dean of the environmental engineering department and becoming the head dean of the school are completely different beasts. I can’t have this backfire on me. Dean Jenners is in his fifties. He’s married, his kids are grown. The trustee likes these things. But you getting the Nobel nomination has made you the frontrunner.” Richard watches me.
I shrug. “I’m an open book, Richard. And my work speaks for itself,” I say, looking him in the eye. This is not me being arrogant; this is fact. I’m way better equipped all around for the job, and Richard knows it, even without the Nobel nod. My age is the only thing holding him back. Thirty-eight is not unheard of, but very few have been appointed to a coveted position like this at my age.
Being a rising star professor at any Ivy League or prestigious private research university is huge, but being the dean of one of the top schools in the nation… well, let’s just say, my parents will have bragging rights.
“What about Professor Carter?” he says casually, not even looking at me while he focuses on the ash forming on the end of his cigar.
“She’s a colleague and a friend whom I’ve had a casual sexual relationship with,” I state slowly because I don’t lie. I might try to charm, but I don’t lie. Glancing over at their housekeeper, I notice she’s staring at me as she walks by with a load of laundry.
“Brett. This is where Jenners can make his case—”
“It’s not against the rules to date a colleague.” I interrupt because I refuse for someone as inconsequential as Skylar to be the reason I have to fight for this.
“It’s frowned upon, but no, it’s not against the rules, not like a student would be.” He spits out the student part like that would be the end of the world.
I shake my head. All of this is simply laughable and a non-issue. “You have nothing to worry about.” My teeth instinctively clamp down on the end of the cigar as I think about Skylar. I haven’t returned her calls and texts since I’ve been back. I thought I’d made it clear that we were not exclusive, and what we had has run its course, for fuck’s sake.
“Well, you might want to reiterate that to her. Apparently, she’s still holding on to hope, if her interview is any indication,” Richard says dryly.
I nod, setting down my cigar as I think how best to choose my words. This needs to be shut down, but I can’t let him know I’m aggravated. That implies guilt, and I have none. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as my eyes drift around his office. It’s large with dark-wood paneling covering the side wall. His giant wood desk and dark, cherry-stained leather chairs give it that old-money feel. Not my taste, but I don’t have to live here.
“Professor Carter is in another department, but she’s up for tenure herself this year, so…” His meaning is clear.
“I will make sure there’s no confusion,” I grumble. I
“Excellent. At the end of the semester, if all goes the way it should…” He stands, placing his cigar in his large crystal ashtray. “It’s an honor to shake the hand of the newly minted dean of the whole engineering school at California University.” He holds out his weathered hand to me, and I stand. “Congratulations, son. I see great things for you. Please don’t disappoint.” His voice is strong, but his hand slightly shakes.
Adrenaline rushes to my head as I reach out to clasp his, mine steady and sure. “Thank you, Richard. You have nothing to worry about. I never disappoint.”
ALEXANDREA
Preparing to knock on my sister’s door, I sigh deeply and straighten my shoulders. God, I feel like I’m Anna in Frozen standing outside Elsa’s door. I have to stop myself from humming “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?”
“Just knock,” I whisper and gently tap on her door, fighting the need to bolt.
Nothing.
I put my ear to the door like that will do anything. Jesus, what is she doing? I mean, I haven’t seen her since last night when she breezed past me, not even responding to my cheerful, “Hi, how was your day?”
“Skylar?” I knock a little harder. “You oka—”
“What?” The voice makes me jump back as I almost give in to my need to run. This is, without a doubt, the most uncomfortable week of my life. All my hopes and dreams about moving to beautiful Southern California to attend CAU and bond with my sister are pretty much gone.
The truth is, I’m starting to wonder if she’s not unstable. From the moment I pulled into town with my car stuffed with all my belongings, she’s been, well… a bitch.
“I was wondering if I could maybe get a ride with you this morning since it’s the first day, and I…” Her door swings open as I back up. God, stop cowering. She can’t be all that bad.
When she stands in dark slacks and a cute, ruffled sleeveless white top, her makeup perfect aside from her puffy eyes, I plaster on a big smile. A wave of compassion flows over me. Maybe she’s sad, heartbroken. That’s probably why she’s looking at me like I’m an annoyance. She just got dumped. Yes, she was in a serious relationship and had her heart broken. That would explain this terrible behavior.
I almost reach out to touch her arm, but she snaps, “Why? What’s wrong with your car?” She walks around me, and my nose twitches at her perfume.
“Oh, I… hold on a second.” I turn and sneeze. For some reason, my allergies act up around her.
“Sorry.” I sniff, my eyes watering as I try to fight back the next sneeze. “I just thought we could carpool, maybe talk, save gas…” I hold up my hand and turn my head to sneeze again.
“No. And if you’re sick, stay away from me. I have way too much going on to risk catching whatever plague you’ve brought with you from Ohio.” Her glossed-up lip curls, and she shakes her head as if Ohio is a dirty word or something. Annnd, there goes my compassion as I watch her proceed to the kitchen, heels clicking on the hardwood floors.
“Unbelievable,” I whisper. So what if she’s nursing a broken heart? She’s vicious. God, I’m nothing but nice. Turning, I march straight to the bathroom for a tissue. That, and I need to get away from her bad energy.
All right, this is it. I’ve bent over backward to make some sort of connection with her. That stops today. Clearly, it’s unwanted.
All she does is work, or stay locked in her bedroom or the bathroom crying. At first, I just thought she was upset that our dad was making her take me in. But, come on, this is like a whole ’nother level. I’m also the best roommate ever. I keep to myself and try to give her space and privacy. It’s not my fault this house is small and I can hear her crying and talking to herself.
God, the only reason I even thought I’d try asking for a ride is because my car is broken. I blow my nose again and toss the tissue in the trash as I look around and weigh my options. I don’t have much because my car is freakin’ broken, and from what little I know, you absolutely need a car in LA. I glance at myself in the mirror and straighten my ponytail. I’m already nervous and excited about today. Why does she have to be such a dick? I mean, she’s a professor at the university, for God’s sake. This is ridiculous…
“Make sure you lock the door, Alex.” Her snippy voice alerts me that she is, in fact, leaving, and if I don’t somehow get in her car, I’m gonna be screwed on my first day.
“Wait, Skylar.” I run out, only to see her backing out of her tiny garage. Unless I want to throw myself onto the hood of her Mercedes, I need to face the fact that it’s too late.
“Fuck,” I scream, not caring that the neighbor’s dog runs down their steps to bark at me.
Skylar lives in a super cute neighborhood in Santa Monica, where most of the houses on her street are still small and were built in the 1950s. Sure, there are the McMansions down the road, but for the most part, this street is mostly singles or old couples.
“Oh shush, Walter,” I snap at the dog that’s now growling at me through the white wooden fence that separates our yards. Walking back into the house, I slam the door with so much force the windows shake. Then I flop down on her couch and look at my watch: 7:15 a.m. My first class isn’t until nine o’clock. Do I chance taking my car? I mean, it’s just down PCH. It should be fine, right? I bite my bottom lip, lean back, and cover my face with my hands. This is just not how I visualized my first day going.
I should have known something was weird when my dad called me into his office the night before I left. I thought he’d tell me how much he’d miss me. Instead, he went on and on about how my sister was difficult. That I was a smart girl, and he was confident I could make it work. See, Skylar is from his first marriage. She’s fifteen years older than me and clearly lives way beyond her means, which is why I’m being forced to live here. Our dad already pays for most of the rent. Why get me an apartment when Skylar has an extra bedroom?
Yet she’s done absolutely everything to make me feel unwanted. The other day she told me to separate all the food in the refrigerator, that she was going to bill our dad extra since I keep eating her food. I had one peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It took all I had to stay quiet.
“Oh God,” I groan. My car breaking down was a sign, a foreshadowing. As soon as that check engine light came on, I should have stopped, called my dad, and gotten it fixed. Instead, I ignored it and kept driving, hoping it would turn off. It didn’t, and by the time I pulled into Skylar’s garage it had started making noises. To be honest, I was just so relieved I made it, I blocked it out of my mind until I tried to drive around a couple of days ago.
My phone on her kitchen island starts vibrating. I stand to get it.
“Kill me,” I plead into the phone as my twin brother, Jude, laughs.
“Why? What’s wrong now?” His upbeat voice bugs me at the moment.
“Everything. I’ve been texting you,” I grumble into the phone and grab a mug out of the cabinet. Might as well have some of Skylar’s coffee while I decide what to do.
“Alex, I’ve been at practice nonstop. College ball is a bit different than high school.” I hear laughter in the background, and all of a sudden, I’m homesick. Maybe packing up and moving across the country wasn’t a good idea.
“Where are you?” I take a sip of the hot coffee, not even caring when I burn my tongue. With the way this day is starting off, if that’s the last crappy thing that happens, I’ll be thrilled.
“At a frat house… Dude, I’m on the phone… Tell her I’ll be right there,” my brother yells at someone. I lean against the counter, wondering why Jude is always so lucky.
“Alex, you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. My car is broken, and Skylar is just…” I take a deep breath.
“A bitch? Cunt? Go ahead. It’s okay to say it if it’s true.” He laughs again.
“Jude, you cannot call a woman the c-word, and you know it,” I grumble, taking another sip of coffee.
“Wait, what happened to your car? Did you tell Dad?” Jude’s voice cuts in and out. Clearly, the reception is not great where he’s at.
“The check engine light is on. I thought maybe it just needed oil, but I put some in and it’s still jerking and making that horrible noise. What do I do? I need to be in class in an hour,” I snap.
