Rewritten (The Bound Series Book 7)

by Bronwyn Green

  They stepped into an empty car, and she pushed the button for their floor.

  “That wasn’t the entire reason I did it,” he grumbled.

  Her eye roll perfectly telegraphed her opinion of his claim.

  “I thought it would be nice for you to be able to visit with a friend. And—”

  She stared at the slowly increasing digital numbers above the door as the lift rose to their floor. “I’m sure that with your google skills you can find out everything you’d ever want to know about Libby Perkins.”

  “And,” he continued as if she hadn’t just interrupted him, “I happen to enjoy spending time with you.”

  She froze, but she didn’t respond other than to stare open-mouthed at him. He walked past her as the doors slid open. She followed, and he waited for her to catch up. They weren’t done discussing this.

  “I’m not going to google you again. If I want to know more about Libby Perkins, I’ll ask you. And if you want to tell me, you will.”

  She just stared at him, her body tight and almost pulsing with barely-restrained tension, disbelief clear on her face. He’d gotten the message loud and clear the last time, and he was truly beginning to grasp how important privacy was to her.

  He stopped outside his door and inserted his card in the slot, pushing the handle when the light turned green and opening the door. He paused on the threshold and looked at her. “For what it’s worth, I think Kristina’s right.”

  “About what?” Eliza asked, gripping her own keycard.

  He let his gaze skim up and down the length of her body. “You’re way too tightly wound. You need to relax. Get a massage. Get laid. Something.”

  Her eyes widened, and her lips parted. Lips he was dying to taste, but he refused to move toward her, to act on his desire.

  “And if you need to submit to be able to let go, I volunteer as tribute,” he said, echoing her quote from the day before. “We don’t even have to go to a club. I can give you what you need right here, right now.”

  He willed her to agree.

  He suspected he needed to make her let go as badly as she needed to do it.

  Her breath stalled in her chest, and her pupils dilated, the blackness swallowing the coppery brown and green, leaving only a tawny colored ring. If he risked a glance down, he’d bet her nipples would be hard and pebbled beneath her top. But he refused to break eye contact with her.

  Finally, she opened her mouth to speak. “I don’t do that anymore.”

  He held her gaze for the longest time. “Pity. I think we’d both feel better after a scene or two.” He reached into his bag and pulled out her planner. Holding it out to her, he said, “At the very least, I can let you have this back. Might make you feel a little better.”

  She took a step backward, her eyes hardening. “Keep it. I don’t back out of agreements.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Body trembling and nerves screaming, Eliza turned on her heel and walked the few feet down the hall to her door. Releasing the lock, she glanced back toward Angus. He hadn’t moved. He just watched her with those bright, dark eyes that seemed to see everything—that seemed to know everything—about her. Granted, he didn’t currently know much, but thanks to today’s chance meeting with Stina, he now had the tools to discover all there was to find.

  “You know where I am if you change your mind.”

  “I won’t.” The words came out mostly strangled, and she wasn’t even sure if he’d heard her. But she forced herself to look away from his piercing gaze and went inside her darkened room, slumping against the door as soon as it latched, then she slid down to the floor.

  How was she supposed to do this? How was she supposed to deal with the fact that he was interested in the part of herself she’d cut off forever? The part of her Nigel had destroyed? He’d destroyed more than that, she conceded. But the part of her she’d banished was the part of her that called loudest for Angus. Apparently, she hadn’t banished it, after all. With precious little encouragement, it was unfurling within her and reaching for him like a vine growing toward the sunlight.

  She thought of all the times she’d imagined him giving orders, tormenting her, demanding obedience of her, and she could have laughed at how stupid she’d been. It was as if her body had recognized what her brain had failed to notice.

  And of course, what she wanted more than her next breath was to go into his room and kneel before him and offer him whatever he wanted—offer him whatever he wanted so she could get what she needed. So she could get to that place where nothing mattered but the fact that she didn’t have to think. She didn’t have to do anything but accept and feel. And it had been so damn long since she’d been able to experience that kind of blissful mindlessness.

  What was wrong with her? Just because he had an apparent interest in kink didn’t mean that he could give her those things. It didn’t mean that he could take her to that place where everything else slipped away. It didn’t mean shit.

  And besides, it was unlikely that any of it would matter once he googled her former name. Any interest he might have had in her would evaporate as soon as he saw everything. Or, he would just assume that he had a right to her body. She hated to think that of him—that he’d act like the others who’d known all about Libby Perkins. But why would he be any different than the rest of them?

  Rage and humiliation stung her eyes and scalded her cheeks as the tears her emotions had summoned slipped free. She’d been fooling herself to ever imagine that she could start over and escape the hell Nigel had created.

  Sure, Angus had said that he wasn’t going to look into her past. That if he wanted to know something, he’d ask. She wanted to believe him—more than anything. But he was a writer—they were the nosiest of the nosy. This was the same guy who’d tried to ferret out information about her inside of ten minutes of meeting her. There was no way he was going to ignore a gift search term like her former name. In fact, he was probably already watching the video and scrolling through all the pictures and screen caps that were out there living in infamy on the internet.

  She swiped at her tears and forced herself to stand. The damage had been done. There was nothing she could do for it now but hold her head up and plan for the inevitable loss of her job and the destruction of the life she’d managed to rebuild. She couldn’t imagine that Terra would keep her on staff once this got out again. Prentice Press certainly hadn’t. A scandal like this could not only trash her career, but it could taint Barbara’s since she’d been the one to hire her. And it could even affect the optioning of rights for Dark Nebula Rising. Terra would have no choice but to get rid of her as quickly as possible.

  A niggling voice inside her head tried to remind her that Angus had said he wouldn’t look, but she doubted he’d be able to avoid it forever. Maybe she should just hand in her resignation before it even became a problem. She’d talk to him about it in the morning. There was no way she’d go over there now. She was too raw, and she didn’t trust herself not to give in to his suggestions about submitting to him. Nope, as exposed as she felt right now, staying here was her safest bet.

  She couldn’t believe he’d offered her planner back—as if she was suddenly so fragile she’d somehow fall apart without it. He hadn’t considered her too fragile before. But something tonight had convinced him she was. And that just added to all the feelings of inadequacy that currently threatened to smother her.

  Eliza sighed and rubbed her eyes. She’d hoped that, in the morning, she’d feel better equipped to deal with everything, but that wasn’t how it was shaking out. She’d barely slept last night. In addition to the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her, she’d also been unbearably aroused. She wouldn’t have thought it was possible to experience both sensations at the same time, but Angus Domhnull apparently had that effect on her.

  She punched her pillow and hoped to sleep for a least a few minutes before her alarm went off. It was stupid to think that, after what had transpired yesterday, she’d still be
attracted to him, but the pull was worse than ever. Flopping over, she closed her eyes and silently begged whatever benevolent deity that might be listening for the mercy of sleep. But her brain refused to relent. When her alarm went off, she dragged the pillow over her face and muffled her groan.

  Thrusting aside the pillow, she shut off the annoying beeping and stumbled into the bathroom. Squinting into the mirror, she groaned again. She looked every bit as awesome as she felt. It would probably be clear, to Angus, and anyone else who saw her, that she’d spent all night tossing and turning. That wasn’t exactly the image of professionalism she’d hoped to portray today. Not even close.

  After she finished getting ready, she checked his schedule and what he needed from her today. She really wanted to speak to him before his first session. If she were going to submit her resignation, she’d rather do it before they were on the plane to London tonight.

  She opened the text app on her phone.

  —Do you have time to talk today—preferably this morning?

  He responded almost immediately.

  —Does now work? If so, the door’s unlocked on my side.

  Trying to quiet the butterflies in her stomach, she turned the deadbolt and flipped the eyebolt latch over, unlocking the door that separated them, and slowly pushed it open. Angus was sitting at his desk in yesterday’s clothes, laptop open, furiously typing. She sat in the chair across from him and waited until he stopped. She didn’t want to interrupt his flow more than she was about to.

  Finally, he glanced up at her and narrowed his eyes, assessing her. “You didn’t sleep, either?”

  She shook her head.

  “I’m sorry if any of that is my fault.”

  She shrugged. “It is what it is.” She sighed. “Look, I’m not sure how to bring this up delicately, so I’m just going to say it.”

  He stared at her, waiting.

  “I think you might be better off with a different assistant,” she blurted.

  He looked as though she’d just announced that she’d destroyed his laptop and the only copy of his story. “What? No. I’ve only just gotten used to having you as my minder. You can’t go.”

  “Angus...”

  “Is this because of our mutual interests?”

  She stared at him for moment and then shook her head. “Other than the fact that we’ve both played at the same club, we don’t even know that we have mutual interests.”

  “Judging from what your friend said, you have an interest in impact play and pain, and I have an interest in inflicting it. You have an interest in submission, and I have an interest in dominance. The rest is just details and negotiation—that would lead to a mutually beneficial experience.” His lips quirked slightly. “Or three.”

  She sighed. “Even if that were true, I still think you and Terra would be better served by a different assistant.”

  He pushed aside his laptop, giving her his full attention. “I would strenuously disagree. You’re an ideal assistant, and I don’t want a different one. I want you.”

  She tried not to react to his words. She knew he hadn’t meant that last sentence like it sounded.

  “Look, there are things that about me—about Libby—that if they came out, they could negatively impact not only me, but also you, Barbara, all of Terra, and even your potential deal with STARZ. I don’t want to be responsible for that. You’re on the brink of something really good here. Do you really want an anchor around your neck?”

  He stared at her. “Did you murder someone?”

  She shook her head.

  “Sell babies and organs on the dark net?”

  “No.”

  “Are you responsible for the cocked-up politics in both the U.K. and the States, right now?”

  She tried not to snort. “Definitely not.”

  “Okay, then.” Angus dragged his hands through his curls, messing up his hair even more than it already was, and fixed her with his all-seeing stare. “Look, I don’t care about Libby Perkins and whatever kinky fuckery she got up to that has you so worried.”

  Her mouth dropped open. He’d kept his word. He hadn’t checked up on her. She could tell.

  “I care about Eliza Burrows—the assistant who’s done more to get me back on track in the last week than I’ve managed on my own in the last few years combined. I care about the woman I’m quickly coming to consider a friend. I care about you—not your past.”

  She opened her mouth and closed it several times, not sure how to respond without crying.

  “Are you worried that your friends are going to somehow out you to Barbara?”

  In the cold light of day, far from last night’s near panic attack, she could admit that scenario was ridiculous.

  “No. They wouldn’t.”

  “Do you think I’m going to do that?” Apparently, she was quiet for too long, because his face fell as he said, “I know I can be a total git sometimes, but I have no interest in ruining your life.”

  “I know.” And the truth was, she did. While he could occasionally be a dick, he wasn’t the kind of person who’d intentionally destroy her.

  “So, no more talk about turning in your notice?”

  She took a deep breath, completely overwhelmed. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time anyone had shown her this kind of acceptance. Of course, the little voice in her head was back, reminding her that it could all disappear if he got too curious. But right now, all she felt was relief. She loved her job, and she was coming to love working with Angus. She really didn’t want to give up either of them.

  “Eliza?”

  “I’ll stay.”

  “Thank fuck.” His lips lifted into what she could only describe as a sweet smile, though it quickly turned wicked. “And you’ll let me know if you change your mind about playing? You can think of it as friends helping each other.”

  She shook her head, fighting her own smile. “Not gonna happen.” She glanced at the time on his alarm clock. “Now, get in the shower. You’ve got a panel starting in an hour.”

  Sighing, he stood and dragged his t-shirt up, muttering, “bossy” as the fabric briefly covered his face, leaving her with the mouth-watering view of his tightly sculpted chest and abs and a line of dark silky hair that disappeared beneath his jeans.

  He tossed his shirt on the floor and walked to the bathroom, opening his jeans as he went. And it was all she could do not to drop to her knees and offer to help.

  “If you want, you can read the new pages while I wash up,” Angus threw over his shoulder as he went into the bathroom and shut the door.

  Needing to distract herself from her almost undeniable urge to follow Angus, Eliza didn’t waste any time settling herself in his seat and scrolling back to where she’d left off. There were two new chapters already. He must have been working non-stop to get this far.

  As far as distractions went, it was a great one. She’d just finished reading the last page when he opened the bathroom door. She swiveled the chair toward him to ask him about Wye’s deal with the Grunsharri, and she stopped dead, mouth hanging open, unable to make a sound.

  Angus stood there in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips and drops of water beading on his body. He was lean but muscular in a way that suggested that he ran or swam regularly.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “Forgot my clothes out here.”

  She swallowed hard, a nearly impossible task with such a suddenly dry mouth. She considered licking the water from his skin to soothe her parched throat.

  “No worries,” she croaked, turning back to the safety of the screen.

  The sounds of him rummaging through his suitcase registered, and she tried to remember what she’d wanted to ask him about the book—anything to pierce the growing tension-filled silence between them. But she had nothing. The only things she could think about were the rivulets of water sliding down his chest and shoulders and how much she wanted to taste his skin.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Angus dug through his s
uitcase, looking for clothes. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten Eliza was in the room, but he was just so used to wandering around naked, that it hadn’t occurred to him that a towel might be less covering than she was comfortable with. And it probably hadn’t occurred to him because he was so fucking exhausted. He hadn’t been able to sleep last night—not with his offer to her still ringing in his ears and his cock persistently hard. Then there was his promise that he wouldn’t google Libby Perkins.

  All of them combined to poke and prod at his brain, refusing to let him relax enough to sleep. So, he’d stayed up all night writing. He’d even turned off the wi-fi option on his computer. As badly as he wanted to know what Eliza was hiding, he wanted to hear it from her. And it was clear, both last night and this morning, that she’d assumed he’d look. Her low expectation of him only made him more determined not to.

  Finding clean clothes, he started to walk back to the bathroom, but he made the mistake of glancing at Eliza. She seemed as if she was about to say something, but then, her eyes widened, and her lips parted. Now, she simply stared at him. Color rose high on her cheeks. Her gaze trailed down his chest to linger at his stomach before she looked away. Or maybe it was his groin she stared at. His cock stirred behind the towel, and he discreetly moved his clothes in front of him. The last thing they needed right now was his arousal making its presence known.

  This close to her, he could see the tell-tale smudges of dark circles beneath her eyes. He’d bet she was just as tired as he was. It took all his restraint not to reach out and caress her face or run his fingers through her damp hair. He took a step back and turned toward the bathroom. He couldn’t stand here, mooning at her all day. He needed to get his fucking clothes on and get to his panel. What he really needed was coffee. And to be honest, she looked like she could use some, too.

  Clearing his throat, he turned back to her. “Look, I know I said that I wouldn’t need anything from you today, and I’m not trying to be all Mad Men here, but I’m going to need coffee to survive, and room service’s is shite. Would you mind seeing if you can find me a vat or two of something decent?”