Bound to You: Volume 1

by Vanessa Booke

  I’ve been stroking myself for the past 30 minutes, but each time I get close to peaking, I lose the image of fucking her mouth. It’s like she’s cursed me. That fiery siren is my impending death by no release. Perhaps I should’ve taken Alison’s offer for sex last night. She was all too willing. I’m surprised she didn’t cup me in public by the way she was marking her territory. It didn’t take much to notice the angry and jealous glances at Rebecca. Rebecca. Her name will forever be ingrained in my mind.

  I begin stroking myself again, trying to imagine her face as I touched her soft folds. I grab a towel as I get closer and closer to my release. I’m almost there.

  “I’m home!” a familiar voice shouts from across my living room, instantly stopping me. Before I have time to throw my towel on the floor, Emily, my little sister, walks straight into my bedroom. Her eyes widen as she spots the towel in one hand, and my other hand underneath the sheets. Her cheeks flame bright red against her fair skin. This is awkward.

  “Whoa! God, what are you, 12?” she screams in disgust. “You should’ve locked your door if you’re doing stuff like that.”

  “Why the hell don’t you knock like a normal person?” I yell, irritated as fuck. How the hell did she get into my apartment anyway?

  “I didn’t think I would walk in on you yanking your chain.”

  “Just get out! I need to get dressed.” Frustration is how I will sum up today, and it’s just gotten started.

  As I exit my room, dressed in a fresh suit, I find Emily sitting on the couch, holding a sign that reads: “CONGRATULATIONS!” Written underneath are Alison’s and my names. It seems news of my engagement has traveled fast.

  “I’m so excited for you! When is the wedding?” she asks, pushing back a black wisp of hair from her face. She reminds me so much of our mother that it’s painful at times. It’s like looking at an old photograph. She has the same fair skin and long, black hair. My brother and I were the ones who came out more like our father.

  “Hopefully never,” I mutter.

  Her face drops. “I thought this was happy news?” She eyes me suspiciously as I begin to set my tie in place.

  “It’s not. I’m being forced into marriage.”

  “How medieval,” she says, smirking. “I guess I should’ve known better.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, pretending to be offended.

  “Nothing, you just don’t keep your girlfriends around for very long.”

  It’s because most of them are gold diggers, like our mother. “You better watch out, you’re next,” I tease. “You know father. If it’s for the good of the family, he’ll ship you off.” Emily follows me as I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of orange juice. She’s dressed in a light yellow dress and red heels. Something tells me she’s still on vacation. That or she’s ditching class.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” I ask. “Isn’t New York University back in session yet?”

  “Not today, I go back tomorrow,” she says with a mischievous grin. Although almost six years her senior, I’ve often wondered whether Emily isn’t the older of us two. It’s only when she grins that I’m reminded she’s only twenty-two. Something about her smile screams youthful innocence.

  “So, I thought you liked Alison?” she asks. “You dated her for a while, right?”

  “You could call it that.”

  “Yuck, please don’t tell me any more.”

  I chuckle. The alarm on my phone starts to go off, reminding me that it’s 7:00 AM. Time to go. My apartment is far enough from the office that it doesn’t feel like I live at work, but close enough that it takes less than 20 minutes to get there. It’s convenient and easy, but it also means that I have no excuses for being late.

  “Can we talk about this later? I’m already running late,” I say.

  “Okay, are we still planning on taking a trip to the French Riviera this January?”

  “Of course,” I say, kissing the top of her head as I grab my work case. “I gotta jet. Let yourself out, okay?”

  “Will do,” she says, grabbing the remote control and turning on my flat screen. Something tells me she’s going to be here for a while. As I head out the door, I’m reminded of Tristan’s odd behavior at the mere mention of Emily’s name.

  “Hey, you need to let me know what’s going on between you and Tristan. Not right now, but later,” I say.

  Emily turns to me with a blank look. Her face flushes pink as she stutters to make a coherent sentence. “Um, I…”

  “I can’t help but get the feeling that you two are mad at each other,” I say, cutting her off. “Which is weird because you grew up together and I know he loves you like his little sister. I really hope whatever it is, you both will stop fighting.”

  “Okay,” she manages to whisper.

  “Great, we’ll talk later.”

  By the time I reach StoneHaven Publishing, the lobby is busy with employees and visitors bustling about. Mary is tending to our festive holiday decorations as she places a wreath in front of the reception area. I always found it interesting that we tend to get a lot of tourists coming around the holidays. Everyone seems to want to be in New York during Thanksgiving, and it’s less than a month away.

  “Good morning, Mr. StoneHaven,” Mary says, greeting me with a meek smile.

  “Good morning, Mary.”

  “Mr. StoneHaven, your father has called you multiple times. He said to tell you to go straight to his office when you got here.”

  “I’m sure he did. He probably can’t wait to hire my new assistant.”

  Mary smiles as she hands me a note with my missed calls for the morning.

  “I don’t suppose you saw this woman? Is she old? Young?” I ask.

  “She’s young,” Mary says, divulging nothing more. “Your father wanted me to print her resume for you.” She hands me a single sheet of paper, and as I gaze down, my jaw drops at the name printed in size 12 Times New Roman font.

  Rebecca Gellar.

  I’m cursed. There’s no better explanation as to why this is happening to me.

  “Mary, are you sure this is who we’re interviewing?” I ask. My heart accelerates in a chaotic rhythm.

  “Yes,” she says, smiling. “I’m positive.”

  The smell of faint jasmine is the first thing that hits me as I enter my father’s office. It’s intoxicating to my senses, seductive even. I find myself openly staring at the short, curvy redhead in front of me wearing a fitted blue dress. Rebecca sits sideways in one of the chairs with her back facing me. My eyes are drawn to the soft curve of her neckline. The taste of her skin is still on my lips even after days. She’s wearing her hair up, and I can’t help but think she looks like a 1950s sexy librarian. I stop short as she turns and focuses her piercing green eyes on me. Her shock and annoyance is evident on her face. She wasn’t expecting to see me here. I wasn’t expecting to see her ever again. Not after Friday night.

  From her tight-lipped expression I can tell she doesn’t want me openly staring at her, but I can’t stop. Her eyes glance everywhere but at me. I take a seat in the chair adjacent to hers. The air between us is electric. I can almost feel her disapproval for me. It’s probably pervish of me to say that it turns me on. It definitely turns me on.

  “You? What are you doing here?” she says, barely above a whisper. I can sense the bitterness in her words.

  “I work here.” I try my best to erase my emotions. A part of me is still angry that she left the club. I wanted her. No, I needed her. I know it’s shitty of me, but I didn’t care if Alison found out. I didn’t care if people saw us. I wanted to be reckless because of her. For her. At that moment, I didn’t even care if the paparazzi happened to see us. Nothing else mattered.

  “Funny, you didn’t mention that the other night,” she remarks. “But I guess you have a lot of secrets.” Her insinuation sets off a trigger inside me.

  “I don’t tell random women that I meet where I work. What are you
doing here?” I retort. Father comes waltzing back into the room before Rebecca has a chance to say anything else. He takes a moment to look from me to Rebecca. Sometimes I swear he has a sixth sense. He has a way of picking up on unspoken conversations.

  “Do you know each other?” he asks.

  “No,” Rebecca says nervously as she turns back to me. “I was just introducing myself to your son.” Rebecca turns to me. “I’m your new assistant.” She flushes as I take her hand in mine, and even though the moment is brief, I can feel her tremble beneath my touch. As soon as father turns, she quickly breaks eye contact and snatches her hand away.

  “I’m glad you could make it in, Nicholas. Although you’re well over an hour late,” father says.

  “I apologize, I had some other business to tend to. I thought you received my message.”

  “Well, since you missed most of the interview, you’ll be happy to know that we will be hiring Ms. Gellar. She will be your personal assistant for six months as a trial basis. From there, depending on her performance, she may be transferred as a full-time staff member.”

  My father stands, turning to Rebecca. “Ms. Gellar, if you can take this paperwork with you and return it tomorrow morning to HR, that should be all we need.”

  “Thank you, Mr. StoneHaven,” she says.

  As she stands, the hem of her dress suit hikes up just above her knee. The mere sight of her naked leg stirs something inside me. She's stunning. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I still want her. I’ve wanted her since I first saw her. This is bad. I can’t have her working near me, let alone as my assistant.

  "It was a pleasure meeting you,” she says to me, but her eyes say differently. I can still see the radiant flecks of gold in her green eyes. Green… like my mother’s. My chest tightens at the realization.

  "Nicholas, please show Rebecca around the building. I need to finish drawing up some documents."

  “Of course,” I say, gesturing for Rebecca to follow me out.

  Father escorts us out of his office, and before I have a chance to speak, Rebecca heads for the elevator. She pushes the downstairs arrow over and over as if expecting it to pop right open. I’m sure she’s hoping it will get here faster. I’m starting to get the feeling she can’t stand to be around me. I follow her, standing a few inches away from her.

  “You can’t work here,” I whisper.

  She turns to me in shock. “I’m not any happier about this situation,” she says. “But you’re stuck with me for at least the next six months.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were applying to work here?” I ask.

  “I had no idea that you were the owner’s son. You never mentioned your last name,” she says accusingly.

  “I’m sorry about Friday night,” I blurt.

  “Sorry? You mean you’re sorry for coming on to me even though you’re engaged?” Her tone is full of accusations.

  “I wasn’t engaged when I first met you.”

  “Oh sure,” she says, obviously not amused.

  “I wasn’t. I came back and found out about my engagement. I don’t even want to marry her.”

  “How romantic,” she says, unconvinced. “That really doesn’t make it any better.”

  “Rebecca, I’ll find you another position somewhere else,” I begin to say.

  “If you think you’re going to scare me off, you’re wrong,” she says, whirling around on me.

  The elevator pings open and Rebecca rushes in. The elevator isn’t fast enough for her to lock me out, although it doesn’t stop her from trying. The doors close behind us, leaving the two of us alone. Rebecca steps back against the wall, trying to keep her distance from me. It’s useless. The smell of her jasmine perfume only drives me crazy. I need to scare her off. I need to make her regret coming to StoneHaven Publishing. I can’t have her around my life if I can’t have her in my bed. I’d like to think I’m strong enough, but I’m not. Having her here would only make things more complicated.

  "Is it true what they say about California girls?" I ask, leaning against the elevator wall. She looks up at me with interest.

  "I don't know, what do they say?"

  "That you're all just begging for a good fuck.” Her eyes widen. The crimson blush across her cheeks only encourages me. “Tell me, Rebecca, do the drapes match the carpet?”

  "Your father warned me about you." Her voice is low, but her breathing is rapid. I trail a line with my finger down her arm, all the way to her waist.

  "Did he?” I smile. “I think you came here for another reason.”

  “And what would that be?” she asks innocently.

  “I think you wanted me to finish what I started in the club.”

  She doesn’t move as I slide my hands down her ass. I’m instantly aroused. She feels too good against me. I push up against her, but she doesn't back down. She moves closer. I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or what, but her hips grind into mine. It takes every part of my fiber to stop myself from pushing her skirt up and fucking her right there. I want to taste her and fuck her until she remembers only my name.

  "You know what else they say about California girls," she whispers, running a hand up my chest. She’s a fucking minx. She wants me just as much as I want her.

  "What?”

  "We have good aim." Her knee makes contact with my groin.

  "Fuck!" My stomach instantly feels like it’s ready to drop out of my body. Nausea hits me like a fucking tidal wave. I instinctively kneel to the ground, clutching myself.

  "Don't worry, I'll find my own way around," she says over her shoulder. The elevator pings open, and in an instant she walks out, leaving me disabled and cradling my balls. Sorry, boys, today is just not your lucky day. I look up to see a group of StoneHaven employees waiting by the elevator doors, shocked as they watch the scene unravel before them. This is one hell of a way to teach me a lesson.

  Deep inside I know it won't be the last time Rebecca gives me an erection, and a kick in the balls within the same five minutes.

  "Crazy redhead.” I don’t stand a chance.

  That’s it. I’m making a mental list.

  The Run-Like-Hell List: I, Rebecca Gellar, vow that under no circumstances will I fuck sleep with any man especially Nicholas who falls under these:

  1. Arrogant.

  2. Dangerously handsome.

  3. Brooding.

  4. Domineering.

  5. Possessive.

  6. Playboy.

  Meet the Author

  Vanessa Booke is a lover of poetry, Rom-Coms, the combination of peanut butter and chocolate, and all things Jane Austen. She is an avid reader and graduate from Cal State University, San Bernardino where she received her Bachelor’s degree in English Literature. Vanessa lives in beautiful Southern California with her husband Ryan and their three dachshunds Zer0, Zoey, and Zelda. When she isn’t working on her novels, Vanessa spends most of her time window shopping and taking grand adventures with her partner in crime.

  Vanessa loves getting emails from her readers. You can contact her at VanessaBooke@gmail.com.

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