Bound to You (6 page)

Lana stared at me, her mouth agape.

I now had a guest and I was standing next to my desk with a riding whip in one hand and a belt in the other. Massive green curlers must've added quite the maniacal effect. One thing was for certain: after getting caught today by Lana, this would be the last time I did any
personal
favors for Penny.

“I called your name, but you didn't answer,” Lana blurted. “There's some guy named Chris at the door. He said Mr. Quinn was waiting for you outside. Who's he?”

Oh shit.
Why was he here so early? At least he wasn't the one who opened the door.

Lana looked me over with an amused grin. “You sure take customer service to the next level.”

I turned away from her and quickly wrapped up the call with Bill. He'd already crossed the finish line, so there wasn't much to discuss.

“Don't we have a policy about knocking?” I asked while I scrambled to pull my curlers out. She was halfway into my room before I could say more.

“You were making so much noise—” Lana began. “Can I
borrow
that?” She reached for the riding whip, a mischievous gleam to her dark blue eyes.

I groaned. “How long has Mr. Quinn been waiting?”

“Not too long.”

I opened the garment bag with my Alexander McQueen dress and placed it over my chest. The sweetheart bodice had been hand stitched and the silk chiffon fabric was delicate and soft along my fingertips. “All the favors I owe Franklin will be worth it. I miss dressing up.”

Lana tapped the end of the riding whip into her palm as I put on my gown.

“Why don't you borrow it before I give it back to him?” I asked. If a hot dress would get that poor girl out of a studying stupor, I was game.

“And go where?” She gave a dry laugh. “A dress like that needs man candy, and right now I'm supposed to be on a dick diet.”

I rolled my eyes. Books wouldn't relieve her stress. I knew that for sure.

Now that my dress was on, there wasn't much left to do. I discarded my leather cuffs and left them in my bedside drawer. This sleeveless gown wouldn't hide my secrets. My fingers flew through my dark hair, teasing out the curls until they hung in loose waves to my shoulders. I already had my garters on and my stilettos were waiting for me by the door.

Time to impress Mr. Quinn with my networking ninja prowess.

With a final check in the mirror, I was ready to go. Not bad for a mad scramble. “And Lana,” I called after her as she left the room with my crop in hand, “punishment comes first, then reward.”

She snorted. “Now I need to find someone to punish.”

By the time I got into the Bentley, I was a bit winded. I felt a bit awkward leaving my place in something so formal. Once I got settled into the seat, though, everything slid into place. I was Sophie Ashton wearing a couture gown on the way to the opera. Just another day on the job.

“You're early,” I remarked, keeping my gaze away from him. He looked so good it hurt my eyes. His short-cropped hair had been styled to perfection, and his finely tailored clothes and dignified air made me believe for a moment that he was my date.

“I wanted us to discuss any last-minute details over drinks.” His deep voice was honey to my ears. I couldn't miss the way he glanced over me with appreciation. Before I could open my mouth, he added, “You keep skipping meals, so I wanted to make sure you were taken care of, Miss Ashton.”

A protest right now seemed appropriate, but we were already dressed and ready for the opera. The space I kept between us though didn't seem like it was enough. To keep myself occupied, and my mind on business, I went over scenarios with Xavier on how to interact with Watanabe and the best people for him to impress. My mouth kept moving, but Xavier's heated gaze made it hard for me to focus.

By the time we were on our way downtown to the opera house, my skin hummed again and I couldn't sit still in the seat. Again and again I reminded myself he'd be gone in a few weeks. This hunger that made my breath catch and my body tremble would go away. This was nothing more than an attraction I had to get past.

That became easier said than done when he finally spoke. “You look breathtaking right now. You'll be a great asset tonight. I know people, but there are many social circles here in Boston and you know them better than me.”

So all the time I spent securing a proper dress had been for the benefit of attracting attention and not because he liked how I looked. I shoved that thought aside and focused on the obvious: at least he knew my strengths very well.

“All we're doing is the benefit and then I need to go home,” I said.

“Naturally.” His grin said otherwise.

Breathtaking,
he'd said. I tried not to let myself react to the word. I'd done everything I could to make sure I looked my best. I touched my curls to make sure they were in place.

“I've been wanting to do that all evening.” His fingers twitched.

“
Do
my hair?” My lips pursed. “Now this is a new talent I didn't know about.”

He reached for me and stopped midway. A part of me screamed to me to lean toward him.
Don't give him a foot because he'll take a yard.
And yet, I wanted him to reach out and touch a tendril. I wanted him to take a fistful and pull my head back. If he asked me to comply, would I do it?

“Have you ever seen the painting called
Water Serpents
?” he asked casually.

I shook my head. “The name sounds familiar, though.”

“It's an erotic painting by Gustav Klimt with two figures. Klimt had a thing for the naked female form. He found symbolism in what others would find overtly sexual.”

I chuckled. “I've yet to do any naked posing for art.”

“No, I'm sure you haven't, but you remind me of the woman in that painting. The milky complexion of your skin. The way your hair frames your face.”

My breath caught and I had to turn away from him to take in the lights of downtown Boston.

Thank goodness we pulled up to the opera house before I had a chance to lose it. He was almost close enough to see all my secrets and none of them I wanted to tell.

Chris opened the door for us. Xavier emerged first and I followed him. The sounds of busy streets erupted around us, but all I could focus on was him and the fact he stood so close to me. Flashing lights from photographers' cameras flashed around us, pulling me out of the moment.

You're not on a date, Sophie.

I reminded myself I was his assistant for the evening and any inquiries to his company would reflect such.

“This way, Mr. Quinn,” one man with a camera called.

Xavier paused, turning so that his hand hovered over my back. So tantalizingly close, yet not close enough to touch me. Ever since I'd met him on the plane, he'd avoided touching me for some reason. I briefly glanced at the flashing lights, but my stomach was churning. The last thing I needed was a headline in
The
Boston Globe:
CONCIERGE PHENOM PASSES OUT IN THE BRIGHT LIGHTS AND FLASHES HER WALMART PANTIES TO THE WORLD.

“You all right?” he whispered in my ear.

“Of course.” I gave him the smile I gave everyone.

Amusement shined in his blue eyes. “Of course.”

It was hard not to get caught up in the excitement. A long row of limousines waited to bring more patrons for the event tonight. The people who got out were dressed in dazzling evening wear from Valentino to Hervé Léger. Wealth had smells, from the heady citrus colognes the men wore to the delicate, expensive floral perfumes the ladies dabbed on their necks.

“Do you always smile like that when you lie?” Xavier had more to say as we entered the building. Heat filled my face. I kept my mouth shut and continued to walk beside him, all the while taking in the signs for upcoming events.
The Nutcracker
.
Sleeping Beauty
. Tonight's piece was
Pelléas et Mélisande
.

I couldn't believe he'd outright said that, but this was Xavier Quinn.

A beautiful grand chandelier shined above our heads. I'd been in this building many times before, but I was always delighted. Acquaintances who grew up in the area told me the opera house had been renovated more than a decade ago and now the original glory had returned. I could see it in the fine marble on the floor and the gold leaf finishes on the walls. The carpets and tapestries added an Old World flair that made this experience even more fairytale-like.

“I take that as a yes,” he added when I remained quiet.

“No comment, Mr. Quinn.”

We joined the crowd enjoying refreshments in the lobby. The stairs to the theater lay ahead. Now that we were in the thick of things, I couldn't miss how others glanced in our direction. Women whispered inquiries to their friends. Men remarked on the new player on the field. And I was standing next to him.

Using my trained eye, I scanned over the crowd and I noted familiar faces. Even prior and current clients.

“Champagne?” Xavier placed a glass in my hand.

“Thanks.”

The drink went down smoothly. I turned to look at him from the corner of my eye. “You ready to do this?”

“Do your thing.” He extended his hand toward the crowd.

As we weaved through the crowd, Xavier became chatty. “How many people here do you know?”

“Too many to count,” I said with a laugh.

I introduced him to a few businessmen first. Going all out eager with the men associated with Nakamura wasn't wise. Step one was to build buzz.

During the whole time, I tried to focus while Xavier stood close enough for our bodies to almost touch. For the bare skin of my shoulder to brush against his. Anyone who looked at us would most likely see him guiding me through the crowd having a good time, but to me tonight felt like punishment. A torture of sorts that made it harder for me to focus.

“Will Nakamura be here tonight?” he asked, looking over at Watanabe as he greeted one of his guests.

“Definitely.” The timing had to be perfect for his introduction to Watanabe. “He's one of Watanabe's patrons, but I don't want you to approach him yet.”

“And why is that?” He was close to me again, his minty breath warming the side of my face. A master of seduction that rivaled Sato's attentions. The tension in my stomach grew uncomfortable.

“There's always a good reason why I do what I do,” I managed. “Just like you told me.”

“And you wouldn't have me do something unless you have a good reason.”

“Precisely.”

I still held my empty champagne glass. Any intentions to put the glass down vanished. Any distraction was welcome so I settled on conversation.

“I love the tapestries in here,” I remarked. On the other side of the room, I caught sight of Nakamura coming in with his wife.

“See something you like?” Xavier asked.

“Many of these are on loan from overseas.” I pointed at the nearest one that put me in the line of sight for Nakamura's approach to Watanabe. “That one I believe is from an exhibit in Scotland. The first time I saw it was in Paris.”

“So you've traveled internationally?”

Did he think I was some rookie concierge who wasn't familiar with the places I took my clients? “Of course. I might've even seen more places than you have. I've been almost everywhere—except Japan and Malaysia. Three times last year to South America, and I might be the only person to say I've seen most of the hidden gems in the London airport during my countless layovers.”

He gave a small smile. “I've never had the opportunity to travel for pleasure.”

Now that surprised me. Around us, the crowd shifted. We had less than five minutes to go before the show began. My gaze shifted toward Watanabe and he followed my lead. A small line formed to greet him.

“Wouldn't you at least go to Cancun or Monaco or some place like that for yachting?” I asked.

“Sounds like fun, but in the business I'm in, I travel to make more money for my company.”

He chuckled when I made us walk more quickly so that we could get in line to the theater right in front of Nakamura. “All work and no play…” I began.

“Makes Jack a very rich man,” he finished.

Makes Jack a tired man
is what I wanted to say.

“You have to have gone on vacation once.” Nakamura was right behind us, but I didn't want him to go silent. I wanted to see the real Xavier at this moment.

“Not once, Miss Ashton. Wait, I went to Disneyland with my family. Does that count?”

“Kind of.” Not really. I'd always imagined a man like Xavier Quinn lounging and eating olives on a yacht off Hawaii. Bikini-clad women offering him drinks and saucy conversation. I'd yet to do anything like that.

Xavier laughed.

“What?”

“I remember the day when my brother Marcus broke his leg at the park. At the time I thought he'd ruined the whole trip, but now that I look back, at least we were all together at the time.”

I wanted to ask further what he meant by that, but we finally reached Kaito Watanabe.

The older businessman looked to be no more than fifty, but I knew he was in his late sixties. He smiled, extending his hand toward Xavier. “I'm pleased to see you came, Mr. Quinn. I was pleasantly surprised to hear of your kind donation.”

Xavier didn't grasp Watanabe's hand with both of his in the manner that the Japanese prefer, but Xavier was an American so that faux pas could be ignored. “The pleasure is mine. I'm always looking for new organizations to support through the Quinn Foundation. The work you do here for the traditional arts is astounding.”

Watanabe briefly looked at me. I bowed and greeted him in Japanese. After that I remarked, in Japanese, how excited Xavier was to give to such an important cause and how Xavier wanted to be involved in future partnerships with a man as esteemed and experienced as him. Xavier's company made a lot more money than Watanabe's, but that didn't matter right now. Respect did.