Bound to You: Volume 2 (13 page)

The third night was the worst. I couldn’t use the I-masturbated-way-too-much excuse or the limp dick excuse, so I pulled one out of my ass. I told Alison I had the worst case of diarrhea. The look she gave me was sheer repulsion. I know she’s not the type of woman who even goes to the bathroom around me. That night she booked a separate room. I think she was afraid she would have to deal with the constant smell of shit. I was beyond thankful. Having to stay up pretending to have really bad diarrhea would’ve been a test for me.

It’s good to finally be home. I pour myself a cup of coffee and grab my copy of the
New York Times
. I usually read my news online, but there’s something nice about reading an actual paper once in a while. It’s the same with books, except I think I prefer the paperbacks to reading it on an e-reader. It takes me a moment to realize that there’s an article for the annual Gala is in the paper.

“Finally, the publicity department gets something right.”

The words die in my throat as I read over the date of the annual Gala. January 31st.
What the fuck?
I grab my tablet from my briefcase and scroll through my calendar. I specifically told Gellar the 30th. The publicity department didn’t even know about the old date. I pull up the week Emily and I are supposed to be gone and my vacation entry isn’t there. It was, but now it’s not. I scroll through the recent changes, and lo and behold, the most recent change is a deletion. Under “user” it shows her name:
Gellar.

Son of a bitch
. I scroll through my phone to the e-mail notification that pops up at the top. My jaw drops at the realization that it’s from
him
. Nicholas StoneHaven. For the past three days, I’ve been blissfully, irrevocably ignorant of his whereabouts. No, that’s a lie. I knew he was with her. I just haven’t seen or heard from him, but I knew a shit storm was coming.

To: Rebecca Gellar

From: Nicholas F. StoneHaven

Subject: WE NEED TO TALK

Gellar,

My office. Now.

Nicholas F. StoneHaven

Fuck that.
I quickly reply to his e-mail, trying to keep my simmering anger to a minimum.

To: Nicholas F. StoneHaven

From: Rebecca Gellar

Reply: WE NEED TO TALK

Good morning,

I am in an important phone conference. I will check in later.

Rebecca Gellar

In less than five minutes I hear him, or rather, everyone on the whole floor hears him.

"GELLAR!"

From my peripherals I spot Nicholas as he heads in a straight beeline toward my cubicle. I know just from the scowl plastered on his face that he knows what I’ve done. I push aside the documents I’ve been scanning and slip them back into my to-do pile. I’ll never be able to get any kind of work done. Somehow, the already heaping pile of busywork I’ve been given has managed to grow larger.

“What the hell did you do?” he asks.

The one thing keeping me going today is my little slice of heaven – my revenge. I knew it was coming. It was only a matter of time until he figured it out. Not only did I “accidentally” book the company’s upcoming Gala the same night he’s planning to leave for his trip, but I cancelled his airline tickets.

Oops.

Score: Rebecca 1, Nicholas 0.

I think some people forget how much power one little digital calendar can hold. I have access to his schedule. A year’s worth in advance.

“Gellar, what the hell is this?” Nicholas asks.

I didn’t think this space could get any smaller, but his frame nearly takes up half of it. He waves a copy of today’s
New York Times
a mere inch from my face before flinging it angrily on my desk. I almost flinch at the inaudible gasps that are surely travelling down the aisle at this very moment. I’m definitely on his shit list.

I bite back a smile threatening to erupt as he passes one long, manicured hand through his slicked-back mane. The sight of him bubbling with frustration gives me pure satisfaction. His scowl is an ever-relentless reminder that nothing I do pleases him. I keep my eyes in front of my computer as I scroll through my e-mail.
Maybe if I pretend he’s not here, he'll go away.

"Gellar, did you hear me? Are you deaf now? Or are you purposely ignoring me?"

No. Such. Luck. It would be easier to ignore a naked man walking into the middle of my office. Have you ever heard of the expression head on? Yeah, well he invented it. My mother always says “kill them with kindness” but it’s obvious that whoever made up that saying never met someone like Nicholas.

"Good morning,” I say sweetly. I hope he can smell the sarcasm dripping from my words.

The color of his suit catches my eye. I groan inwardly at the sight of it. He’s wearing grey today. I hate when he wears grey. The color contrast brings out the deep blues in his eyes. And it's irritating. Even now, he looks like he should be on his way to a magazine shoot for GQ.
Rich bastard
.

"I ask you, what the fuck is this?" he asks, pointing at the headline that reads:
StoneHaven Publishing Co. to Host NY Gala
.

"That is... well, you know about the gala. You're the one who asked me to schedule the event.”

Just play dumb. Enjoy this
. Nicholas has been planning this trip for weeks, but this is payback for saying I meant nothing a few minutes after he fucked me. Apparently, there’s nothing cruel about getting belligerently drunk, seducing me into his office, and then pushing me under his desk while he makes plans to fuck Alison. I know she’s his fiancée, but it doesn’t make it any easier on me.

"Gellar, you know why I'm upset. Why did you schedule the gala on the same night I'm supposed to be out of the country?” he asks as he taps his fingers on my desk impatiently.

"Nicholas, I had no idea that you…"

"Cut the shit, Gellar, you did it on purpose."

If Nicholas hadn't drawn attention to the two of us before, there were definitely some curious stares now. Even Ken is sending “I'm sorry” glances at me as he types away at his computer. His office sits directly in front of my cubicle. The only thing dividing us is a walkway to the elevators. Thank God he’s so close. I could use the moral support right about now. Nicholas takes a seat on the edge of my desk, crossing his arms in an effort to intimidate me.

"Why did you cancel my tickets? And don't fucking toy with me.” My silence only makes him angrier. “What do you have to say for yourself?" Nicholas asks, almost growling.

"I’m sorry, I got the gala dates mixed up. Would you like me to call the event coordinator and the museum?”

The date of the event is already public. Changing it would only confuse people, or make them suspicious, but Nicholas knows that.

“I’m not sure what you’d like me to do; the papers won’t print any retractions.” I smile inside. I've won this battle, but the war is definitely not over.

A smirk creeps up Nicholas's face. He stands, and in one swift motion he spins my chair, pulling me to him. I squirm under his scrutinizing gaze. His hands hold my chair in place as he leans in, closing the space between his face and mine.
What is he doing?

The memory of being underneath him as he fucked me flashes in my mind. My body betrays me as I melt under his gaze. His breath is cool with the faintest smell of cinnamon. It’s enough to draw me in.
There’s something wrong with me, I know it.
My brain says go away, but my cheeks flush at the sight of him wetting his bottom lip. He smirks at me as he catches me staring at his lips, but he doesn’t stop. I can almost feel the warmth of his lips against mine. The way his tongue felt sliding across my skin. It’s a moment of pure bliss. And a moment I’ve been trying to forget the past few days.

"Touché, Rebecca, but remember, Christmas is just around the corner and you just gave me all the ammo I need to keep you from flying back home,” he says. He pulls back slightly and stops to gaze at my lips. His eyes trace them as if claiming them for his own.

Oh. My.

"I’ll have you all to myself,” he says softly. "You better believe I'm going to make you pay for making me miss my trip."

Somehow his words sound more like a promise than a threat. A strange static charge dissipates between us as he releases me. His gaze is wild, but his outward appearance is restrained and calm. He adjusts his tie, and right before he turns to leave, he smiles. And it’s one of those oh-my-God-I-just-came-in-my-panties kinds of smiles.
Why does it always have to be the gorgeous ones?

A moment ago I couldn’t wait until he left, and now, well now I just feel like putty in his hands. You have to focus, Rebecca. Remember, he’s your annoying, over the top, I-just-want-to-murder-him-slowly boss who said you meant nothing. Repeat after me, you will NOT sexually fantasize about him doing you in the elevator. Ever. Not even just a little bit. Okay, maybe just a little bit.

"What an ass," I mutter as I grab my pile of manuscripts.

Ken walks over, grinning. “Man, Rebecca. You really get under his skin. What did you do?”

"I messed up his plans for sunbathing on the French Riviera."

"Oh. He’s been talking about that vacation for months," Ken says.

"I guess he’ll have to get over it,” I say, trying not to sound too crabby. "God, why are New York men so annoying?”

"Not all of us are like Nicholas." Ken grins. “I hope you’re still up for that date on tonight?”

“Yes, definitely,” I smile.

Fuck Nicholas.
I need to forget him. I need to remember why I wrote my Run-Like-Hell List. The really frustrating part is things never seem to work out the way I plan.

She’s getting under my skin. That crazy redhead is going to drive me insane. Today’s fiasco was yet another reason why my father hiring her is a mistake. She has some nerve. I’ve been planning this trip for months. After seeing her smug little smile, I had to restrain myself. I just wanted to bend her over her desk and fuck her right there. I don’t care if the whole office watched. I can’t help it; the more she fights me, the more… God, I’m going to burn in hell. I need to stop fantasizing about her. I thought finally having a taste of her would fulfill my craving, but it didn’t; I just want her more. She’s my employee –and at the moment the thorn in my side.

Thanks to her, the trip I have planned with Emily will need to be postponed. For the past five years, my sister and I have taken the same week off from school and work to travel. Each year it’s someplace new. It might sound sort of odd, but our brother used to have a list of places he wanted to visit before he died and he never got to finish the list. Emily and I decided as homage to his memory, we would finish it. It’s easier to deal with the idea of him being gone when we have other things to focus on, but now it’s ruined.