Bound to You: Volume 2 (2 page)

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s out of that crazy, beautiful head of hers… or maybe she’s the smartest little fireball I’ve ever met. Rebecca is definitely a mystery. There’s plenty about her that I don’t know. I shouldn’t need to know, but I want to.

This needs to stop.
In less than five months, I’ll be married to Alison. The thought of being chained to her for the rest of my life is so fucking depressing.

“Nick, you asked to see me?”

I look up, startled to find Striker, one of my father’s employees, standing at the office door. It’s almost seven o’clock at night; I’m surprised that he’s even still here. Striker has been with StoneHaven Publishing since I was 23. He used to be a security agent for an international organization that provides security detail for the rich and famous. He’s also my father’s best friend. My father happily recruited him out of retirement when my mother started sending my father threatening letters.

“Is everything here?” I ask as he stalks over and takes a seat across from my desk. The chair squeaks under the weight of his stocky frame. He casually sits back, fiddling with the knob on his watch, as if he has all of the time in the world. After the incident on the elevator, I phoned Striker, who was quick to get me information on Rebecca. I’m not usually the one asking him for favors, but I have a feeling Rebecca won’t answer any of my questions willingly.

“Yes, you’ll find everything from her bank statements to her phone records. I also looked into her family’s background,” he says, hesitating.

“And?”

“Nothing, they’re clean.”

“Thank you. If anything else comes in, send it my way.”

“Sure.”

“And Striker, I would prefer if my father didn’t know about this.”

He flashes me a smile. “Why do you need such detailed information on your assistant, Nick? The company does routine background checks.”

“I’m not looking for basic information,” I confess.

A smug smile spreads across Striker’s face. “You like this one, don’t you?”

“This one?” I ask, ignoring his smirk.

“The redhead. She’s cute. A little spunky, but cute.”

“You’ve met her?”

“The elevator camera, Nick.”

“So you saw her knee me in the balls? And you did nothing?” I ask, surprised.

“You looked like you were handling it just fine,” he says, letting out a low chuckle.

“Right, what do I pay you for?” I ask, laughing.

“You don’t. Your dad does.”

“Of course, how could I forget?”

Striker is all too familiar with my M.O. with women. I do one thing and one thing only – I fuck them. I’m sure he gets a kick out of watching me salivate over Rebecca. He’s well aware of the number of assistants I’ve run through. I think most people are. He’s not really one to judge me, but this is the first time I’ve heard him verbalize that he actually likes one of my assistants.

If only liking my assistant didn’t mean there would be hell to pay later. I should be in control of the situation, yet Rebecca makes me feel anything
but
in control. There’s a part that scares me and then there’s the haunting fact that every time I see her, I’m heartbreakingly reminded of the one woman who ruined my confidence in all women.
My mother.
Father made the mistake of not knowing who she really was.
My mother destroyed our family.

“Thank you for your help,” I say.

Striker nods, leaving me to rifle through the layer of documents on my desk. I settle back in my chair and pull open Rebecca’s file. It seems most of the information that Striker has gathered is just fragmented pieces of Rebecca’s life. Toward the back of the folder I spot an article clipped from a gossip magazine. I’m surprised to even see it in the folder.
Why would she be in a tabloid?

My eyes zoom in on the photograph of Rebecca in an embrace with another man. She’s smiling as
he
leans in to kiss her. A strange sensation fills my chest as I scan the photo. Beneath it is a caption that reads:
Just as this article went to press, Miles Storm broke off his engagement with his longtime college girlfriend, Rebecca Gellar. He is now dating his costar Scarlett Jones.
I clench my teeth.
Shit. Who is this fucker?

I pull my tablet out of my briefcase and type the names “Scarlett Jones” and “Miles Storm” into my browser. A dozen or so pictures of Rebecca’s ex-fiancé and his costar bombard my search result. Each one reveals a little more than the last. I’ve learned in my experience that there is always a story behind a photo. In this case, the paparazzi are the ones telling it. To my surprise, Scarlett isn’t as beautiful as I was anticipating. Sure, she has nice tits and a big ass and she’s probably what most men would think of when you say the word beautiful, but she’s nothing like Rebecca. I’ve seen plenty of both to know she’s more.

Miles Storm.
The name looks familiar. It takes me a moment to place him from the photos. I scroll through a gallery from a TV studio set that I recognize. The photos are scenes from a show my sister Emily watches.
I’ve seen him before. I know his character.
He’s the guy Emily is always pining over when she watches
Future Outlaw
. As I scroll through another pair of photos, I realize there’s an article attached to one of them. I click it and the headline that pops up sends my head spinning.
Miles Storm Cheats on Fiancée with Costar.

Fuck.
This man broke Rebecca’s heart. I’ve never been one to believe tabloids or celebrity gossip sites, but I have feeling this time they got something right.
That piece of shit.
Anger erupts through my veins as I read the gritty details of the article. He didn’t even have the decency to break it off with Rebecca before fucking another woman. This is why Rebecca instantly hated me. This is why she pushed me away. It all makes perfect sense.

I force myself to unclench my hands, aching from being fisted into angry balls.
What I wouldn’t give to end this motherfucker.
For the first time in my life, I actually feel like the asshole most women make me out to be.

One week later…

“I totally get it, Becca. You want him to fuck your brains out,” Carol says, throwing me a
you-know-it’s-fucking-true
look. I roll my eyes at her as she stands at the doorway of the guest bathroom analyzing the teal dress I’ve put on and my nude colored pumps. It’s been a week since I’ve seen Nicholas StoneHaven, aka my overly vain, but gorgeous boss. I thought I would be starting work the same week of my interview but I was scheduled to come in the following Monday. I think it’s in my best interest that it worked out that way. Kneeing my boss in the balls was probably not a good idea, but watching the expression on Nicholas’s arrogant face when I did it was priceless. I don’t regret a single moment of it and I particularly don’t regret the feeling of his eyes watching me as I left him clutching his precious “jewels.” I know it was beyond stupid to hurt him. He’s the owner’s son. In reality, I’m surprised I still have a job.
At least I hope do.
Call it pride but Nicholas StoneHaven is not going to scare me off that easily. He can smirk at me all he wants. I’m staying.

Stefan, Nicholas’s father, warned me his son would challenge him when it came to having another assistant, but he promised if I could stick it out then he would hire me permanently, in my department of choice. We’ll see if I change my mind after a few months, but I’m leaning toward a job in publicity. I think it would be exciting to work with authors to promote their books. That’s all I want. I want to work my dream job without having some playboy paw at me every time I see him.
Is that too much to ask for? Probably.
It doesn’t matter. I’m not letting anyone ruin this opportunity for me.

I look up to find Carol peering at me with amusement. I’ve been quiet for too long. I’m sure the wheels of imagination are just churning in her head. She’s like my mother. I’m almost too sure she was a mind reader in another life. She knows me far too well, which means it’s hard to keep secrets from her, and even harder to lie through my teeth.

“I do not want him to fuck my brains out,” I mutter.

Carol lets out a laugh as she mocks me with her infectious smile. “Maybe not your brains,” she begins to say, as she walks over and plucks a few stray hairs off my shoulder “But definitely something else. I think that’s why you’re so worked up about this.”

I bite back a smile as she raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow at me.
Damn her.
I shouldn’t have told her anything. As much as I hate to admit it, in a way, she’s right. I’ve been dreaming about
his
mouth ever since that night
.
It’s embarrassing, but twice I’ve woken up panting from dreams of Nicholas’s head between my thighs. Each time I revel in the thought of pulling his hair, crushing his lips against me, and riding his face. As if waking up panting in your best friend’s apartment isn’t embarrassing enough.
Damn, I need to stop thinking about him. Get a grip, Rebecca
.
He’s engaged…

“I need to steer clear of him, Carol. I told you Alison is his fiancée. We both met her at
Riptide, remember?”

“He obviously doesn’t want to be with her,” Carol says, cutting me off. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s engaged. I can’t stoop to Miles’s level. He cheated on me with another woman. If I sleep with Nicholas, how am I any better?”

I was stupid to think someone like Nicholas could be a good guy. No, men like him just want to fuck you, use you, and then leave you. I’m not going to be that woman anymore – the one who’s naïve enough to think that she can change a man with a bat of her eyelashes.
Fuck that.

“You’re not anything like Miles,” she says, grabbing my hand. “Seriously, nothing.”

I clear my throat hinting that it’s time for a change of subject. I can feel tears threatening to escape. Carol pulls a pair of earrings from her jewelry case and holds them up to my ears.

“You should wear these.” The aquamarine earrings look more expensive than all of the jewelry I own put together. They’re beautiful.

“I can’t,” I say, wrapping my hand around hers. “If I lost them, I could never replace them.” It seems like I’ll be borrowing a lot of things from now on. Even my current outfit is on loan to me by Cheri, Carol’s client who runs the fashion line
Retro Thrift.

Unfortunately, the clothes that I brought from home are currently having cat pee dry cleaned out of them. Carol forgot to mention that the client lending his apartment to her also designated Carol as his cat sitter. “Sprinkles,” as he’s adorably called, is a longhaired Calico cat that’s a tad too feisty. I’ve been on the wrong side of his wrath. He doesn’t just claw the hell out of you; he pisses on people he doesn’t like. It’s disgusting, but Carol seems to think it's one of Sprinkles’ most charming qualities. At first, I thought he was named Sprinkles because he’s sweet, but I quickly came to realize that it’s because he likes to “sprinkle” all over your stuff. In my case, it means all over my luggage. So for now, I’m borrowing clothes until I can afford to buy my own.

“I’m glad Cheri had a dress coat for you. It’s snowing outside,” Carol says, handing it to me. “Let me call Steven to drive you.”

“That’s all right, I’ll take the subway.” I’m overdue for a bit of sightseeing. I haven’t really gotten to explore since I’ve arrived, and seeing New York is definitely at the top of my to-do list. Maybe the fresh air will also help me clear my head. If I’m going to work with Nicholas for the next sixth months, then I need to find a way to ignore his irritating qualities.

“Are you sure you won’t get lost trying to find the subway?” Carol asks in a motherly tone.

“That’s why I’m leaving early. I’ll be fine,” I say. “I checked the subway route online.”

“Okay. Well, have a great first day of work.” Carol hugs me and then heads for the front door.

“Thanks, I’ll see you for dinner.”

“Becca?” I turn to find Carol staring at me. “A word of advice. Try not to get fired today, okay?”

“Never,” I answer, laughing.