Bound to Me (The Harbour Series Book 1)

by Christy Pastore

  Bloody hell! This was Alex’s home? The place he was going to reside. How could that be?

  How much is my brother paying him to lookout for me?

  I stood gazing out at the ocean, wondering about the man hired to keep an eye on me. He mentioned a sister and a brother, but something in Alex’s voice indicated there was a deeper story there. I know, clearly I’m the next Detective Olivia Benson, minus the whole solving of heinous crimes thing.

  “Ella?” Alex’s deep voice rang in my ears, and I felt something I could only describe as a shiver tugging deep inside me.

  “Yes, I’m on the balcony,” I called out.

  “I see you found my favorite spot in the entire house.”

  Twisting my head, I turned to face him. He smiled and handed me a bottle of sparkling water.

  “Thank you, yes, it is truly beautiful here,” I remarked, before tipping the glass bottle to my lips. Taking a long drink, I contemplated my thoughts and when I’d finished I knew how I would phrase my questions.

  “So how does a bodyguard afford such a lavish new home and drive a Range Rover? Are you American royalty or something?”

  He smiled and it reached all the way to his eyes. “Well, actually, yeah, you could say that.”

  I studied his face for a moment, because I couldn’t tell if he was fucking with me, or actually serious. I cocked a brow, and stood in silence waiting for him to enlighten me on the matter.

  “My mother’s family was a huge part of the automotive industry in both Detroit and Cleveland. When my grandparents died, we inherited a large sum of money, and each of us grandkids was given a sizeable trust fund.”

  “Holy shit,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush crimson. “So you’re a Trust Fund Baby?”

  Alex laughed. “Kind of, but there’s more.”

  “More? What can possibly be more than having the good luck to inherit a family fortune?”

  My words tumbled from my lips and I’m afraid I sounded like a total arse . . . correction asshat. Again, he flashed me that charming smile. The one that made my knickers wet and had me feeling a deep ache in my . . . pussy. Was that what an American woman would say? I am not referring to my nether region as a “flower.” God, Alex has me all twisted up and thinking about what to call my vagina.

  Get a grip, Ella.

  “My father’s family owns one of the largest shipping companies in the Great Lakes region, transporting everything from iron, ore and grains,” he said, before taking a long drink. “The prominent Robertsen Family of Grosse Point. We have that printed on the letterhead.” He gave a small laugh, and then turned to face the ocean.

  I felt my eyes widen, and I swallowed a lump in my throat. Alex had been born into one of the wealthiest families in America. He must have grown up attending society parties, gone to the most prestigious university and travelled to the most exotic locations on holiday. And I bet he never had to worry about the paparazzi trying to take photographs of him and splashing them across the tabloids.

  “Did you leave the company to come here and work?”

  “No, I worked at the company on and off when I was a teenager,” he confessed. “At the time, the family business wasn’t something I was interested in. Instead, I enlisted in the military after high school.”

  Alex was in the military? That makes quite a lot of sense actually—threat and risk assessment. He’d mentioned that was his job last night, but I could have never put two and two together until this talk. “Actuary Science” comes to mind. I remember that from that movie with Katie Holmes called First Daughter. My friend, Nabila, and I used to watch that movie repeatedly.

  “Are you close with your parents?”

  “I suppose you could say that, we see each other frequently and manage not to annoy the fuck out of each other. Sunday dinners are a kind of tradition,” he said, tapping his foot against the wood railing. “Mom has a strict rule, cocktails at six and dinner at seven. I haven’t seen my parents since New Year’s Eve.” Tension rolled off his body as Alex drew in a long ragged breath, and then exhaled slowly. It was almost as if he was doing a breathing exercise.

  My phone pinged, alerting me to a text message. It was from my brother.

  “Speaking of family, mine has requested my presence for a dinner party in my honor on Saturday evening. I guess you’ll have the night off.”

  Alex shook his head.

  “What? Are you seriously going to babysit me at a family function?”

  “Yep,” he answered, giving me a cocky grin. “I was sent an email about the event while we were having lunch. Dean wants me to help with security.” He pulled out his phone and showed me the message.

  My stomach churned, an uneasy feeling rippled through me. Security, at a dinner party? Just how many people were going to be in attendance? Is this what Ronan’s life as a celebrity had become or was there a real threat of danger? Had something happened? My mind went to the darkest places, and then it hit me—his crazy ass stalker must be back in the picture.

  Fame came with a price, the price being the lack of privacy. Right after Ronan and Heather Young started dating, my brother received letters and daily phone calls from a woman, Devlynn Asher. Ronan’s number was changed, but the letters still came, even to our parents’ home in London. One letter contained a message that threatened to kill Heather and feed her to the pigs. Heather was a mess, and Ronan was spooked by the incident and rightly so. A few weeks later, Asher was caught, after she showed up on Ronan’s front doorstep.

  A shiver ran down my spine at the memory. Pulling my phone from my purse, I quickly typed in her name. No new updates. She was sentenced to three years, and by my calculations, she was still in prison.

  “You okay?” Alex’s question knocked me out of my thoughts. I wondered if he knew about the incident. Squaring my shoulders back, I refocused attempting to push the ugliness from my mind.

  “Yeah, I’m grand,” I lied. “I needed to check something.”

  “Come on, let’s get back to the city.” He nodded towards the door, and then guided me through the master suite. We descended the stairs, and he called over his shoulder, “I’m staying with you and I need to grab an overnight bag.”

  “No, we’re not living together,” I shot back, over the sound of our footsteps echoing against the bare walls.

  When we reached the first floor, Alex frowned at me, and said, “Ella, this is not up for debate. I will be staying with you. End of discussion.” His tone was warning, and made me believe I’d pushed him too far.

  I touched his arm. “Listen, I’ll make you a deal. If something happens that makes me feel unsafe, then we’ll make arrangements. Deal?”

  His eyes narrowed, thoughtfully pondering my offer. After a few moments, and one sweet smile from me, he spoke.

  “Fine,” he huffed, expelling a deep breath. “I don’t love the idea of you being alone in the city, but I’ll agree to your terms.”

  “Wonderful,” I replied clasping my hands together. “And Alex?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for trusting my judgement.”

  He gave me a small smile. “Admittedly, I’m uncertain about this, but, yeah, I trust you even if it is against my better judgement.” He stepped closer to me, and said, “It seems, I keep breaking all my rules for you, Ella.” He brought his hand to my cheek, brushing his fingertips over my skin.

  I had no idea that simple touch could be erotic. That said something, because I’d already slept with him. But it made me want him again. He was breaking his rules, and I needed to keep mine or else I’d be in deep, deep trouble.

  I STEPPED OUT OF the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. It was eight-thirty in the evening and I was exhausted from the long day. While I waited for the steam to exit the bathroom, I walked to the butler’s pantry to grab a bottle of water. “Shake It Off” by Taylor Swift blared through the speakers on the radio and I found myself humming along. Now, all I heard was Ella’s sweet singing voice. I hadn’t been ab
le to get her voice out of my head for hours.

  I picked up the remote and hit the power button. Instead of music, I turned on the television and flipped to CNN.

  I realized we were in a precarious situation.

  It was completely inappropriate of me to touch her so intimately earlier today, but goddamnit I wanted to . . . needed to. The way she was looking at me—fuck, she was adorable. It was a miracle that I didn’t take her in my arms and kiss her. That was epic restraint on my part.

  Even though she and I had come to an agreement about me not staying with her, I still felt that I needed to be close as a precaution. I picked my cell up off the desktop, and dialed the number for the Hawthorne Park Plaza where Ella was staying.

  A sweet bubbly voice rang through the receiver, “Good evening and thank you for calling The Hawthorne Park Plaza. How may I direct your call?”

  “Reservations, please.”

  “Certainly, sir, one moment.”

  When placed on hold, I was greeted with Taylor Swift’s voice singing “I Knew You Were Trouble.”

  I hear you, Taylor. I knew I was in trouble when Ella walked into that conference room earlier today. Ella and I were a one-night stand, and now I was responsible for her safety. Conflicted doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of this crazy fucking situation.

  The song cut off and a soft feminine voice chimed in. “Hawthorne Park Plaza Reservation Desk, this is Penny, how can I help you?”

  “Yes, are any of your penthouses or executive suites available for the next two weeks?”

  The sound of her fingers tapping on the keyboard flew at a quick pace. I could tell she had a high word per minute efficiency. She rattled off the descriptions of two suites that were available along with the prices. I opted for the one with the private rooftop terrace. The view alone would be worth the price.

  I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the bed. With that issue settled, I’d sleep easier tonight. Instead of being blocks away from Ella, only a short elevator ride would separate us.

  Surely, she couldn’t be upset or take issue with me living in the same hotel as her. Maybe I should have cleared it with her first.

  No.

  I was already bending the rules outside my comfort zone. She would just have to deal with it. Walking back across the room, I entered the closet. I pulled on a pair of underwear along with my pajama bottoms. After I dried my hair, I tossed the towel into the laundry bag and made my way over to the bar. It was time for a drink and then bed.

  Making good on my vow to change my nightly activity, tonight I’d be asleep at a decent hour and refreshed for tomorrow. Being a military man, I knew my self-discipline wasn’t too far beneath the surface. Where Ella was concerned, those primal urges needed to be buried way the fuck down.

  No light.

  No oxygen.

  No chance to develop roots and grow.

  Not this time. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

  I ROLLED UP MY yoga mat, and then made my way toward the locker rooms. The gym was deathly quiet at five-thirty in the morning. Only a handful of ladies and one guy were in this morning’s class. My mind was clear and the tension that had been residing in my shoulders no longer existed.

  My body was still adjusting to the time difference. After eating dinner in my room, I’d fallen asleep in my clothes last night around six. I’d woken up at midnight to brush my teeth, wash my face and change into my pajamas. Then I was up for three hours watching television before drifting off to sleep again. My hope was that within a couple of days, I’d be fully adjusted to East Coast time.

  After a few sips of my water, I opened the lock to my gym cubby, and pulled out my sweatshirt, slipping it over my head. I hefted my bag up onto my shoulder and sauntered towards the doors, when my mobile . . . cellphone vibrated in my pocket.

  My heart rate that had slowed from the post workout cool down spiked when I saw who was calling. I swiped my finger across the phone icon, and lifted the device to my ear.

  “Bila, how are you?” I said, greeting my dear friend with cheerful smile. Nabila Lawson was my closest friend. We’d met at a cocktail party amongst mutual friends while at university in London. After two bottles of crappy red wine and a sensational girl crush discussion, Alexa Chung versus Mollie King, we exchanged numbers and the rest is history.

  “I’m utterly fantastic, despite the fact that I miss you. This cold, spring rain is dreadful. I’m walking into Berry and Bramble now, needed another round of tea and espresso this morning. How are you getting on in the city that never sleeps?”

  A grin spread across my face at Nabila mentioning the coffee shop around the corner from the boutique. Her art studio was in the building next to the café. The two of us would meet up at least once a day for lunch or a much needed caffeine fix.

  “I miss you and London, very much. However, I must admit, I do love it here in Manhattan. I went out to the Hamptons yesterday. How are the preparations for your spring show coming along?” I took the stairs instead of the elevator as we chatted, not wanting to lose the connection.

  “Oh, E, it’s going to be fabulous. And Finn Carter has agreed to DJ the after party,” she squealed.

  My heart pinged at her giddy excitement, but at the same time, I felt a twinge of sadness because not only did I miss her, but I was going to miss her special event.

  “That’s amazing news! I am so incredibly happy for you.”

  The sound of the bells to the café jingled through the phone, and the coffee grinder came to life. I could almost smell the beans, the cinnamon and steamed milk. For a moment, I longed to be home.

  “Honestly, who do I have to shag to get a drink around here?”

  I smiled as I envisioned her throwing her hands in the air making her dramatic entrance. Then I heard her name shouted almost collectively. It reminded me of when Norm would enter the bar at Cheers. I simply adored American sitcoms. I listened to Nabila place her order and pay, as I continued to walk the stairs back to my room.

  “Did you say that you went to the Hamptons?”

  “Yes,” I answered brightly. “And it was just as posh and decadent as you’d imagine. It wasn’t bustling with activity, but I suppose it will pick up in the summer, at least that is what Alex tells me.”

  “Alex? Who is Alex?” she asked, letting out a gasp. “Have you met someone?”

  My hands misted over with light beads of sweat and my heart rate kicked up at her line of questioning. What I wanted to say was yes. And gush to her about the fact that I’d met the most handsome man. Not only was he hot as sin, but Alex was smart, and sweet and I’ve already had the pleasure of shagging his brains out. But, instead, I kept my secret to myself.

  “Oh no, nothing like that, Alex is my bodyguard while I’m in the city. My brother has gone to great lengths where safety is concerned,” I admitted.

  She snorted a laugh that tickled my ears. “Oh, doll, I’m sure Ronan has his reasons.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” I said, reaching for my keycard in my bag.

  “Plus, you won’t be totally alone in the city, and it’s almost as if you have an instant friend,” Nabila added in a singsong voice.

  I huffed out a laugh, and pressed my forehead to the wooden door.

  The irony in her words, if only she knew.

  Alex and I were definitely on more than friendly terms. I didn’t know how to define our relationship. “He’s a nice guy, and he did agree to show me around the city. So, I guess that is a plus. Listen, Bila, I have to shower and gather my notes for my location hunting today. Let’s make a date to video chat soon. I want to see the set up before your show.”

  “I’ll text you, okay?”

  “Perfect! Kisses, love.”

  “Cheers, doll.”

  I ended the call as I stepped inside my room. I tossed my bag onto the bed, and then I fell backwards onto the semi-soft mattress. As much as I loved hotel living, I longed for the comforts of my own bed. I sighed, draping my arm
across my forehead.

  I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do as far as the expansion plans for the boutique went. Would I stay in America and let Bianca run the London location? Or would I stay in London and hire someone to manage this location? I had a bevy of questions, but I knew I wouldn’t mind traveling and splitting my time between London and New York. In addition to two boutiques, I’d have two homes. Four places that would all have utilities among other bills that would need paid.

  My mind whirled trying to figure out all the details before I’d even found a space. Maybe I was in over my head?

  No. I’ve planned for this moment.

  It’s going to work. I will make it work.

  It was day three of property shopping, and nothing was working out. Alex had found fault with every single storefront, building and block of the city on my list. Admittedly, it was helpful having him along. One sleazy building manager hinted that he wanted more from me than just monthly rent. I had to drag Alex out of that meeting before he punched the slime ball. Another place was in reprehensible condition, and he pointed out several structural problems. It would cost me double the value in renovations alone. Alex said I’d never get out of it what I would have put into the property.

  “What’s the name of your store?”

  “La Vienne Rose,” I replied, looking up from my laptop. We were sitting at the café downstairs at The Hawthorne Park Plaza, the place where apparently Alex and I both resided for the time being.

  Sneaky bastard.

  No matter, I was thankful to have a break from my real estate search; it allowed me to catch up on work.

  He repeated the name a few times, and then took a drink of his coffee. “What made you choose that name?”

  Smiling, I folded my hands under my chin and said, “I wanted something that was timeless but also reflected a personal touch. Nothing seemed to jive with Ella, and after several branding sessions with my pencil and notepad, the name hit me.”