BOUND: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Leah Wilde

  ”I love you, honey,” I told Nick.

  He smiled at me across the table and with a mouth full of fake cheesy goodness, he responded with, “I love you, too, mommy.”

  I promised myself that after dinner I would make the call to tell Mason I wouldn’t do it. Nothing good could come from saying yes.

  Chapter Three

  Nick was working on what qualified as homework for a six-year-old. I could hear him laughing in the living room as I filled up the sink to let the dishes soak. When they were submerged under scalding hot, soapy water, I checked on Nick once more and then headed into the hall with my phone. I didn’t exactly want to call Mason Marsh tonight—or any other night—but I would. Clutching the card he’d given me tightly in my hand, I dialed the number on it with trembling fingers.

  I will not be afraid of Mason Marsh, I told myself firmly, for all the good it would do. I was already petrified and I knew it. He probably did, too.

  The phone rang a couple of times before I heard it click as someone on the other end picked up. “Marsh,” he said simply, his voice deep and rich. It could have been a nice voice if it weren’t attached to such a horrible man.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “It’s Sasha. Sasha Norton.” I paused a beat, then added, “The owner of The Beehive?”

  “I know who you are, Sasha Norton,” Marsh answered with what I imagined as an amused smile on his handsome face. “I have to assume you’re calling about my offer.”

  My stomach knotted with nervousness. People didn’t just turn down Mason Marsh and that was exactly what I was about to do. “Yes,” I answered, struggling to get out anymore.

  “Have you had time to think it over?”

  I swallowed and took a deep breath. Then I forced myself to answer. “Yes, I have. I’ve…I’ve made up my mind.”

  “And?” he prompted when I left that statement hanging in the stretch of empty airspace between us.

  “While your offer is very generous, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to decline.”

  There was a long pause, then, “What?”

  I pulled myself up taller, even though he couldn’t see me. “I can’t do the deal, Mr. Marsh. I really just can’t.”

  There was a silence long enough that I thought he’d just hung up on me, but then I heard his low, deep voice. And this time, it wasn’t so pleasant. “Is there a particular reason you’re declining, Sasha, my dear?”

  I didn’t like that he was using my first name while I was still trying to be businesslike. It told me that he didn’t care about business so much. Instead, my turning him down…it was personal. And that wasn’t good.

  Just tell him you can’t because of legal reasons. He’ll have to go along with that, right?

  “It’s just that there’s so much red tape, and I’d have to ask my lawyer about subletting because I just don’t know anything about it, and I run a clean, legitimate establishment and I—” I was rambling so fast, the pace matching the heavy thumping of my heart. I tried to slow down and enunciate, to sound like I was in control, but really I was scared. This man had power and connections and I didn’t want him making trouble for me. Which was why I continued to spew excuses at him over the phone.

  “Jesus Christ, woman!” he finally burst in, his voice raising in volume quickly. “You don’t need to bring fucking lawyers into this. You don’t need to be talking to anyone about anything. This is just a friendly business deal between two friends. An arrangement on a handshake. I mean, damn, this doesn’t have to be complicated.”

  I recoiled at his sudden intensity and anger. I was grateful that he couldn’t see me, the phone effectively hiding me and my cowardice. It was the only way I maintained the strength in my voice when I told him, “I appreciate the offer, but I just can’t take risks with my business right now.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit,” he spat at me, his tone going from high volume to low again. But this time it was silky with the promise of danger. “You need the money. I know you do. Everyone needs the fucking money.”

  I swallowed. “I can do without it.” And I could. I would. I’d made it this far and I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me into doing something that I wasn’t comfortable with.

  “Listen, woman, no one’s going to be bothered if you’re doing a little bit of extra business on the side. All you’re doing is renting out a storage room, not letting some criminal take up residence there on a six month lease.”

  “I’m sorry, but my answer’s still no.”

  “This isn’t over, Sasha Norton,” he said and this time the threat was clear.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Before he could yell at me further or call me woman one more time, I hung up the phone. For several long seconds, there was silence in the hallway that was heavy with what I’d just done.

  It was the right thing. I was sure of it. He’d have run me into the ground with his drugs and the dangerous people that came along with that. The money couldn’t be worth it. But even knowing that I’d done the right thing didn’t do much to settle my hammering heart or to untangle the twisted knots in my stomach.

  Closing my eyes, I leaned back against the wall, pulling in deep, slow breaths in an effort to calm myself. Everything will be okay, I promised myself silently. Everything’s going to be fine. This’ll all blow over.

  I stayed there for a while until I heard, “Momma? What are you doing?”

  Startled out of my stupor, my eyes snapped open and I looked over to see my son standing at the opening of the hall, holding his workbook. It was one of those big books that taught kids to write the letters and keep them between the lines.

  Smiling, I asked, “Nicky. Are you all done with your homework?”

  He smiled widely at me and held up his book, opening it wide at the spine to where he’d been working. He’d written in crayon, even though he was supposed to be using pencil, but I didn’t have the heart to scold him for it. The teacher could get over it.

  “That’s such a good job, honey!” I said with a smile, pushing away from the wall and heading over to him. I knelt and took the book from him, flipping through the three pages he had to do. His letters were sloppy, the crayon clearly going out of the lines and not quite connecting where they should be. But he was a fast learner and he’d be writing sentences before I knew it, so I meant it when I said he’d done a good job.

  “Does this mean I get an extra-long story tonight?” He looked up at me with those huge eyes, his smile wide and hopeful. He loved his damn stories and if I was being honest with myself, they were one of my favorite parts of the day, too.

  Rolling my eyes at him, I feigned annoyance with a large sigh. “Oh, all right. I suppose.” Then I grinned at him. When I reached out my hands, I caught him about the middle and proceeded to tickle him mercilessly. He let out a squeal and a laugh, batting at my hands. “But you’d better get your stuff packed up first and I want some pearly white teeth before you get into bed, understand?”

  He saluted me with the wrong hand and said, “Aye, aye Captain!” Then he whirled around and made a break for the living room, presumably to grab his things for school tomorrow. I watched him go, feeling a little shaken. I wanted to push Mason Marsh completely from my mind, but it was impossible. He’d cast a raincloud over my day and I could only hope that tomorrow it would go away.

  Chapter Four

  The next few days were normal. So normal that the whole thing with Mason seemed surreal. Maybe it hadn’t happened at all. Maybe it was all just a little blip of insanity in my brain and now I was all better.

  Except that the day after it happened, Steph cornered me as soon as Nick was in school and asked, “Well? Did you call Mason?”

  Sighing, I nodded my head. “Yeah, I did.”

  She let out a low whistle. “Damn. You’re braver than I am. I don’t think I would have been able to talk to him, not even over the phone. Especially over the phone. All that gorgeous body and you don’t even get to see it. Talk about getting all
the bad and none of the good.”

  I managed a bark of a laugh. “No kidding.” I didn’t tell her that I happened to find his voice devilishly attractive also, but that wasn’t the point.

  “So how did he take it?” she asked as we headed to The Beehive to start our day. “I mean, he couldn’t have just been super happy fun guy about it.”

  I shook my head. “Uh, that would be a resounding no. He was not happy.”

  We went inside and Steph automatically began to set up while I grabbed some of the stock from the back. I glanced at the extra space there, recalling Mason’s offer and feeling a chill trip down my spine.

  “But what did he say?” Steph prodded as she counted the safe and brought out the drawer for the lone register.

  I rehashed our conversation, leaving out the half dozen times he called me “woman” and the “fucks.” It wasn’t that I didn’t swear, but I tried to keep it to a minimum so that I didn’t accidentally teach some inappropriate things to my six-year-old. That would definitely not be mommy of the year material.

  “Jesus, he actually said ‘this isn’t over’? Like some mobster with a pinstriped suit and a tommy gun?” Steph asked incredulously. She shook her head. “He’s something else.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  After that conversation, nearly three days ago now, I didn’t so much as hear mention of Mason Marsh’s name. Nothing about the storage unit or phone calls warning me that this wasn’t over. Nothing. So much nothing that I fell back into my old life without a hitch.

  Drop off Nick. Open up the Beehive. Talk to a bunch of old ladies about how things were different when they were young ladies. Close up shop. Go home with Nick. Normal.

  Except that I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d crossed some invisible line into dangerous territory and didn’t know it yet. It’s the same feeling someone might get if they were being watched from a distance. Maybe they couldn’t see who was watching them, but they could sense that he was there.

  After Nick was tucked into bed that night, I dallied around the apartment. I did dishes and laundry and pre-packed Nick’s lunch for the next day. It was all little stuff that could have waited until the next day, but tonight I knew I was going to have trouble sleeping.

  I should have been relieved that the whole brief encounter with Mason was over. Instead, I was paranoid. Paranoid that at any moment he might show up here and tell him I’d crossed the wrong man. That he’d burst into the door and tell me I’d regret my decision.

  “He’s not here. The whole thing’s over. Let it go,” I told myself when I’d finished the last of my chores. There was really nothing left to do but get some sleep. Sighing, I chastised myself again for being so jittery about the whole thing. After checking one more time on Nick, I went to my own bedroom and crawled beneath the covers.

  Lying on my back, I stared at the ceiling, picturing Mason’s sly smile and hearing his smooth, deep voice. The same voice that had made it clear that I was making a big mistake.

  But was I?

  “No,” I whispered to the ceiling with as much conviction as I could muster. “I’m doing the right thing.”

  Then I turned over and closed my eyes. I had to count sheep up into the hundreds, but after a while I finally fell asleep.

  # # #

  I stood in The Beehive, even though it was closed. The lights were low and it was clearly dark outside, but for some reason I was there. Waiting, maybe? I had a late night appointment that I couldn’t miss. I ran my hand along the top of one of the nicer chairs that I’d invested in. It had killed me to spend that kind of money on them, even when I knew I could use them as a tax write off.

  The leather was supple beneath my delicate fingers, cool and sleek. I spun the chair around, letting my hands go over the armrest. It wasn’t until I heard a deep, silky voice that I paused my caress of the chair.

  “Sasha, didn’t I tell you this wasn’t over?”

  I swallowed thickly, but I wasn’t scared or worried to hear Mason’s baritone. He was who I was waiting for. My appointment. “Are you going to let me cut your hair?” I asked, my voice coming out slowly, as though trying to move through layers of heavy cotton. My fingers itched to run through his dark locks, but I forced them to remain still.

  He laughed, thick and deep. Suddenly he was standing behind me, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. But he didn’t touch me, not yet. I felt the air shift around us as he leaned forward slightly, his head angling so that his mouth was beside my ear. His breath shifted my blonde hair as he whispered, “No. I’m not going to let you do anything, Sasha. Tonight, you’re mine.”

  I should have felt something like fear, but instead all I could do was tremble as my body tingled with the promise of what he might do.

  For an agonizingly long second, nothing happened. He stood near, but didn’t touch. His breath skated across my skin, but only teased. My eyes couldn’t help but lift towards the mirror across from us and there I saw him. Dark hair shiny and deliberately disheveled. Eyes burning with passion and dark promises. Mouth curved wickedly.

  And finally, he touched me.

  His large hands gripped my upper arms and spun me around forcibly. My body reacted by arching towards him, but I wouldn’t get a kiss. Not yet. Instead, he shoved me back, causing me to lose my balance and fall back into the leather chair behind me. I fell into it haphazardly, one leg ending up bent at the knee, pushing up the dress that I only wore when I was meeting with one of Nick’s teachers.

  “Mason—” I whispered.

  His left hand pressed over my mouth tightly as he leaned forward. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear a word. You don’t say anything unless I tell you to.”

  I swallowed as a shiver of desire ran down my spine and to my core. His hand was hot against my mouth, the touch making me tingle in anticipation of what might come. He released my mouth, letting his hand trail down my neck instead.

  I found myself arching back, allowing him better access to the column of my throat. His hand lingered there and for a moment. I thought he might strangle me, but he didn’t. Instead, he continued lower, tracing along my collarbones, pushing back the collar of my dress for better access.

  “The dress is nice,” he muttered, though I could hear the mocking in his tone. “Very appropriate. Something a mother would wear.”

  It was appropriate. Off white with pale blue flowers, buttons going from the neckline all the way down the middle. The sleeves stopped before my biceps and the length actually went past my knees by several inches.

  “I am a mother,” I answered before I remembered that he’d told me not to talk.

  His hands moved so fast that I didn’t even see them. But I felt them. They gripped either side of my dress and pulled. There was tearing and several buttons popped open, allowing cool air to caress my now exposed stomach and the tops of my breasts. I was wearing a white lacy bra with matching panties, the top of which was just barely exposed.

  “I told you not to speak,” he rasped thickly. “Now I’m going to have to punish you for that.”

  I let out a shuddering breath, turned on instead of terrified like I should have been.

  “But first, I’m going to put something in that big mouth of yours.” He grinned at me wickedly. “Don’t worry, Sasha, baby. You’re gonna like it.”

  Reaching into my mostly opened dress, his hand slipped down my stomach to the top of my lacy panties. My body burned where his fingers caressed exposed skin and when I felt his fingers slip beneath the lace, I gasped, wetness collecting at my core.

  He grasped the fabric and jerked it hard and fast. I heard ripping once again and felt the lace pull away from my body. My vision was hazy with lust, but I focused my gaze on his hand which was fisted in my panties. My eyes went wide.

  Grinning at me, he said, “I told you I’m going to put something in that mouth. Now open up.”

  Without even hesitating, I parted my lips, turned on by his aggressiveness, by the w
ay he just took what he wanted. No questions asked. He shoved the torn fabric into my mouth, then leaned closer to me. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll give you something else to fill that hole.”

  I whimpered and he grinned.

  Pulling back from me, his large hands went to his belt. My eyes followed the movement, hooked on the deft way he undid the buckle. I watched as he pulled the leather free, then held it taut between his hands. My eyes jerked up to his face which was focused on me.