Page 1 of Unwritten Rules

PROLOGUE

NATE

EIGHT YEARS AGO

“Welcome back, sir. I trust your trip was satisfactory.”

“It was complete and utter shit, to put it mildly, Wetherby. Has Zara arrived yet?”

I shuck my coat, shaking the downpour from the drenched outer layer before passing it into our butler’s waiting hands. He takes it from me, gesturing towards the grand staircase.

“She’s upstairs, I believe, sir.”

Flashing him an easy grin, I race up the stairs, heading to the rooms our house manager had assigned to Zara upon our return from the Bahamas earlier this year. Having my own space is a necessity for me. As a writer, I need my privacy, so I sleep alone.

My fiancée understands that inspiration can strike at any given moment. Yet another reason why we are so well matched.

Zara Harrison is everything a man of my station needs in a life partner, and I count myself damn lucky to have found her.

I’m so focused on getting to her that I don’t hear the sounds coming from my father’s quarters. Sounds that I’m intimately familiar with. It isn’t until I’ve passed the opened doorway leading to his private space that it hits me.

“Oh, yes. Yes, Xavier. Fuck me. Fuck me harder.”

I stop dead in my tracks. My mind is racing at a million miles per hour, attempting to make sense of what I’m hearing.

As though in a trance, I walk backwards to enter the door without conscious thought. My feet automatically propel me closer to the ongoing monologue.

“Deeper, fucking deeper, damn it.”

The sounds of wet skin slapping and a low growl should stop me where I am, right in the middle of my sire’s living area, because deep inside, I know – I know what I’m about to witness.

But the thought doesn’t stop me. Nothing could right now. If anything, my feet move faster.

“Yes, come inside my pussy. Give it to me.”

A long, low male groan greets my ears as I round the corner into the bedroom. There before me, my fiancée is naked on her hands and knees, her shoulder-length platinum hair drenched with sweat and hanging across her face. Still, I’d know her anywhere.

Thanks to his outdoor pursuits, my father’s still fit, and his athletic body is motionless behind her. He’s grasping her hips tightly as he’s blatantly just finished.

Neither has seen me yet when Zara falls forward onto the bed, her cheek hitting the mattress.

“Christ, Xavier. Your cock is magical.” She giggles in that coquettish way of hers that I’d foolishly assumed was reserved for me alone.

The sound reverberates through the room, through my body and settles deep in my chest cavity as I turn to leave. But my vision blurs, and the walls seem to shrink before my very eyes. My legs almost buckle from beneath me, and I grab a nearby side table to steady myself, the noise drawing their attention.

“Oh my God, Nate.” I hear Zara try to scramble off the bed, followed by a whimper.

My vision blurs at the edges when I glance back to find my father has firmly pushed her face down on the bed, her pleading eyes finding mine.

“I…I’m so sorry, Nate. I never meant—”

“I believe you know where the door is, son.”

My father’s Baltic tone reaches my ears, bringing me back to the here and now with a jolt. Inhaling deeply, I square my shoulders, silently vowing to never again display weakness in moments where action is required.

“Indeed, Father. Farewell.”

Giving them both my ramrod-straight back, I march from the bedroom, through the living area, and into the hallway beyond. I make one minor detour to my living quarters to grab two photos: one of my mother and the other of my band of brothers.