Rules of Payne (Cake Love Book 1) Read online

  RULES OF PAYNE

  CAKE LOVE Series Book 1

  Elizabeth Lynx

  Rules of Payne

  Copyright © 2015 & 2017 by Elizabeth Lynx.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact:

  [email protected]

  http://www.elizabeth-lynx.com

  Book and Cover design by Elizabeth Lynx

  Photography by ASjack

  First Edition: April 2015

  Second Edition: March 2017

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  RULES OF PAYNE

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  STORIES by ELIZABETH LYNX

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  NOTE TO READERS

  PEEK INSIDE: THE ATTRACTION FILE

  PEEK INSIDE: ONE WILD RIDE

  SNEAK PEEK: THE SPY RING

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ELIZABETH LYNX’S BOOKS

  THANK YOU

  DEDICATION

  This is dedicated to anyone who has told you no. To anyone who has said you can’t do something. To anyone who thought you had no talent. Tell them to suck it. Tell them I have had ‘no’ thrown at me so many times. I have told myself I have no talent and with my learning disability I could never be a writer. Yet here I am and here you are reading my words. Tell them you can do it with hard work and belief. I am telling you it’s true. You are reading the proof.

  STORIES by ELIZABETH LYNX

  Cake Love Series - standalone

  The Payne in the Blog (FREE)

  Rules of Payne, book 1 (Kindle Unlimited)

  The Attraction File, book 2 (Kindle Unlimited)

  One Wild Ride, book 3 (Kindle Unlimited)

  The Spy Ring, book 4 (Pre-Order Sale Price 0.99 cents)

  Him Her Them Series

  Her Night with Him

  Get latest alerts, releases, sales, and exclusive stories (like the Dirty Hands serial) by signing up for Elizabeth Lynx’s newsletter. READ the inspiration for Dirty Hands that was a finalist in a short story contest INSTANTLY  http://bit.ly/NwsltrDHinspire

  PROLOGUE

  “You are fired.”

  I stared into his dark eyes, curled my fingers into my palms until I thought I felt skin break. That’s when I stood from the cracked pleather stool and leaned over his wobbly pine desk before I pointed at his face. It took all my willpower not to wave good-bye to his droopy, jowly face with my fist.

  “No, you’re fired!” I sprayed the words at him causing his cheeks to glisten.

  I was angry. Pissed that my life had come to this.

  Where was the dream job at the big company with the corner office that I imagined in college?

  I don’t believe that fantasy included being a cashier at a crappy coffee shop.

  Also, where was the knight that seized me, taking me on the ride of my life, and fell at my feet at night?

  I had a boyfriend, but he was anything but a knight in shining armor.

  My boss, correction, former boss, Ed, stood from his overstuffed, overdone swivel chair to his full height. All five feet five inches of him. Exactly one inch taller than me.

  “What? You can’t fire me. I’m your boss, and I’m firing you. Now get out, Ms. Drake.”

  Ed’s stubby arm waved at the door directly behind me in his puny office coated in years of dust. I glanced down at the stained carpet, once a vivid burgundy but now, aged to a fine rosewood, if someone puked rosewood.

  Looking up, I realized his face matched the carpet, so I began to laugh. And I couldn’t stop.

  “What is so funny, Ms. Drake? You are being fired after only working here for four months. If anything, that’s sad. Pathetic really. My twelve-year-old nephew does a better job at the register here in the coffee shop than you do.”

  He’s right. His nephew was a smart kid, a bit weird, but a hard worker and I sucked. As I realized that, it just made my sides hurt as I doubled over with laughter.

  I was terrible at that job. It’s not like I was in love with working the register at Wake Up Joe’s. I hated it really. The only good part of the coffee shop was my boyfriend, Trevor, worked with me. He may not be my knight but he cared for me.

  He got me the job when I was desperate for something after my temporary position was up at the University of Chicago.

  I loved working for the Dean of the University.

  I hated it here.

  Working the register at a cheap coffee shop hardly put my college degree to use.

  I needed something exciting. A prospect that was challenging.

  A job where my boss wasn’t a pervert with a pee fetish, but a person who respected my ideas and appreciated my effort. It had been eight years since I graduated, it was time I had something I could call a career.

  “I’m laughing Ed, because you are the sad one. Do you really think I don’t know about your peephole in the ladies’ restroom? Yeah, I saw that pathetic hole that just happens to come out the other side right here.” I maneuvered around the boxes of paperwork he had lining the floor. A painting of a pirate with a patch over one eye was hanging on the wall. The other eye was the hole.

  His anger-fueled face sagged as every ounce of Ed’s carpet-colored tone drained.

  “I, uh, I had no idea that was there.”

  His head bobbed around the room, searching for the remnants of his dignity.

  “Look, maybe we could discuss this—”

  “Save it, Ed. I already told all the ladies who work here. Samantha seemed to like that you did that.” I gagged a little before continuing, “Anyway, keep it in your pants and cover that hole as the ladies are itching to report you. And you were right . . .” I sighed as the creases in his brow deepened.

  “I am terrible at this job, but that’s because I really don’t want to work here anymore, so perhaps you are doing me a favor by firing me.”

  He nodded and tried to reach over to offer me his hand to shake. I frowned. “No thanks. I got to go and get the job of my dreams.”

  Once I got out on the street reality hit me, and I called up Aria, my roommate, to tell her I was coming home early.

  I was jobless. For the first time ever, I had been fired.

  My mind raced with possibilities and horror scenarios. What if nothing came for months . . . or ye
ars?

  There was one company I had kept an eye on for a while. One place that I thought had the potential to give me a career, not just a job.

  Mimir. The third largest Internet retailer in the world.

  Perhaps my adrenaline got the better of me. As much as I wanted to work for Mimir, I wondered if I had the skill set to even get my foot in the door. Being fired from a crappy coffee shop didn’t exactly scream talented and go-getter.

  Maybe I should leave that one off my résumé.

  As I made my way onto the L train, everything became a blur while I debated my job choices. Once I got home, Aria comforted me the only way she knew how, with chocolate cake and trying to get me to watch internet porn.

  I really needed the cake but the porn, not so much. I am a big believer that cake can cure anything. Perhaps science has overlooked a possible cure for cancer with cake. I may not be a scientist or know anything about diseases, but I do know how good I feel after eating cake.

  “Come on, it will make you feel better.”

  I turned on the soft leather couch to face her. “It’s creepy, Aria. Watching porn with your friend. It’s just wrong.”

  She began to pout and push back the platinum blond locks on her head. “You watch it with Trevor all the time. I hear you both.”

  My face tumbled into my hands. “That really doesn’t make me feel better, Aria. I got fired from a crappy job by a creepy boss, the last thing I need right now is to watch porn with someone other than my boyfriend.”

  “What if I told you the porn had someone who looks just like you and Trevor in it? Crazy, right?”

  That’s weird. But, curiosity killed my aversion.

  “Okay, let’s see it.”

  She opened her laptop. “Now the quality isn’t that good. Also, a lot of the shots are just of him. It’s funny because at one point it appears that he was humping air, she was completely out of the shot. I laughed so hard when I saw this the other day. He’s terrible at sex. I felt a little sorry for her.”

  “Just bring up the video.”

  Once the video began the November chill migrated into my veins as I took in what was happening on the small screen. I shuddered. “That’s me, Aria.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s not you,” Aria tilted her head and squinted, “is it?”

  “I would recognize Trevor’s stupid Rush poster tacked over his bed anywhere. Also, my name is in the title. Great, now I have to change my name or my parents might see it if they Google me.”

  I gasped, “My future employer might see it when they do a check to hire me. Now that I need a job. Trevor, that motherfucker.”

  “Oh, sweetie, I really had no idea. I thought it was just a coincidence. I didn’t . . .” she trailed off before quickly shutting her laptop, but Trevor’s moans could still be heard. We sat there for what felt like hours but was probably only a few seconds before his ecstasy died away.

  I lost my job, and now I was going to kill my boyfriend. He definitely wasn’t a knight, but a villain.

  The pounding in my ears only added to my intense need for space. Quiet space, void of people and porn. I left Aria without a word.

  Shutting the door to my bedroom with a surprising calm, I flung myself across my bed.

  What happened to my life? How could I wake up with a job and a boyfriend and by the end of the day, I have nothing but a porn loving roommate, a belly full of cake, and the bitter taste of failure in my mouth?

  “Don’t worry. Things always get better. So, Trevor turned out to be a loser. No one has perfect taste in men; you were bound to find one rotten apple. As for the coffee shop, it wasn’t for you. You’re smart and have big dreams. I know the next place you work will be the best job you ever had.” My Brain did her best as she gave me a pep talk. She was always there for me, giving me confidence when I needed it most.

  I smiled. You’re right, Brain. Tomorrow morning, I am going to look online for a job that uses my assets and keeps me on my toes. Also, I will text Trevor it’s over. That man doesn’t even deserve an in-person break up.

  “Good girl. You get some rest and know I will always be there if you need me.”

  I closed my eyes as a calm flowed through me. Being fired was a good thing. I had a renewed energy knowing how much closer I was to a great career with an amazing boss, and maybe I’ll even find a sweet guy to go home to at night.

  My next job was going to be epic, I just knew it.

  ONE

  Payne’s Rule

  Work before play and have a rich life.

  Exciting. Challenging. Inspiring.

  Three things my life, my job, were not.

  As I tuned out the woman who stood on the other side of my desk and reflected on the last ten years, I came to the conclusion that I was one boring-ass guy. Also, I was an asshole, but that couldn’t be helped.

  Work. That’s all I did.

  Not even for my own dreams, but for the company, Mimir, founded by my friend, Jacob Mimir. Sure, it was wonderful helping the business blossom from a startup to a billion-dollar Internet retailer. Nonetheless, I had done the same thing for over ten years.

  And I was good at it. But, I doubted the housewife in Iowa ordering the back massager to get at the spot her husband just couldn’t, cared little that I tempted her on to our website long before she even realized she had an ache.

  Maybe it wasn’t my job, but me.

  As Evaleen Bechmann, the head of HR blathered on, I wondered if I should have more excitement in my life. A challenge, something that got my blood pumping.

  I cradled my head and tried to avoid the glare from her icy blue eyes. The restrictiveness of her bun had a death grip on her hair, the color of a pee-stained Chicago sidewalk, making it so her eyes could barely close.

  Bechmann’s tall, thin frame hovered across from my mahogany desk as her lips pursed.

  “Your final interview is here, Payne. She’s the last one you have since you scared everyone else off. I’m wondering how you got your job as VP of Sales and Marketing here. Especially being an executive at only thirty-four.”

  My eyes fell back to my cell phone. Our latest app was about to roll out, and I was testing it. One of the few interesting parts of my job. I took note of the glitches almost instantly.

  She smirked at my lack of enthusiasm.

  “Anyway, I couldn’t imagine you climbed so high in this company due to your people skills.” Her nauseating sneer lingered as she continued, “As head of HR I am warning you that if you don’t choose an assistant soon, you will be getting Grace, the receptionist, for the foreseeable future. You know how she has been begging for this job.”

  My hand froze mid swipe as a twitch got the better of my right eye. I turned my attention back to Bechmann, Witch of HR . . . oh, I mean Bitch of HR, as the corner of her mouth began to tic.

  She thought Grace was just as crazy as I did, yet I knew she would love Grace as my assistant. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she purposely found all those buffoons that called themselves “applicants,” just so I would end up with Grace.

  Not Grace.

  Anyone but Grace.

  She had a crush on me. Not a sweet, young and innocent crush. No, a stalker crush. Knowing her, she would slowly add poison to my morning coffee and claim only she could nurse me back to health. I glanced over at my half empty blue mug and shuddered.

  I’ve already dealt with an unwise assistant who couldn’t take no for an answer last year. I’m not dealing with another reckless worker.

  I grumbled and abused my dark brown hair with my fingers. “Fine, send the woman in. Do I even have her résumé?”

  “It’s in your email, Payne. I forwarded it to you an hour ago.”

  She turned, heels clicking as she left my office. I opened the email and got what I needed from the résumé. Just before there was a knock at the door I turned my attention back to my phone.

  “Enter.” I raised my voice so they could hear but kept my attention on the new applica
tion, noticing another problem.

  “Mr. Payne, this is Morgana Drake, she’s interviewing to be your assistant.”

  I lifted my arm and pointed at the chair in front of my desk for Ms. Drake to sit. After a few moments, my head rose. I gazed upon Ms. Drake and wondered if my lungs had collapsed as I felt the wind being knocked out of me.

  My mouth dried, almost disintegrated onto my desk, as I tumbled deep into the golden-green gulf of her eyes.

  Blinking, I shook my head remembering I was at work. Admiring her pouty lips or thick red hair or, oh man, her cleavage, was the last thing I should be doing.

  Henrik Payne, you’re better than that.

  I was not some superficial man-whore. Women were not on the agenda. Especially a woman who could potentially become my assistant.

  It didn’t matter that she wore a low-cut green blouse that accentuated her curves, tight gray blazer, and a very short matching skirt.

  Gum. I needed gum. That would help.

  Even after getting the gum from my desk drawer and popping it into my mouth, I kept thinking Morgana Drake had a body that would make Marilyn Monroe jealous.

  The gum wasn’t working.

  Why was my body having this reaction? Having experienced my fair share of attractive women, I had never wanted to introduce Captain Cock with such immediate intimacy.

  It’s probably my mid-career crisis that caused my body to search for a release. That must have been it.

  I just needed a distraction outside of work. Maybe take up tennis or lion taming.

  Her résumé. That would help. Once I saw that she’s as incompetent as the other applicants, I’ll lose total interest.

  In fact, she might be so awful that when I ask her about her knowledge of Mimir, she will probably giggle and ask how to spell it. This was all Bechmann’s fault, I just knew it.

  Despite my rational logic on the problem, my mind had other ideas. It imagined something much worse.

  As I squinted at my computer screen and tried to focus on her résumé, images of Ms. Drake reclining back in the chair across from me popped like bubbles into my head.