BOUND: Together

by Cynthia Dane

  “You should’ve seen it, Natalie,” my mother whined in my direction. “They took one look at Miffy and threw me out!”

  I doubt that’s how it went down. My mother’s flair for the dramatic drove me nuts, so I often ignored her like I ignored her dog.

  She tossed her four-year-old Prada bag onto the wicker sofa in our sunroom. My mother’s lily-white skin was covered in a fuzzy pink jumpsuit, her freshly dyed hair as greasy and fried as a fast food dinner. (Same color, too.) Her pink high heels clacked against the hardwood flooring as her knees bobbed up and down. Miffy continued to give me a murderous look, teeth bared and beady eyes begging to jugulate me.

  My mother and I couldn’t look more different than night and freakin’ day.

  Go ahead. Laugh. Until this moment, I’ve given off the impression that I’m nothing but 100% Taiwanese. If you looked at me, that’s what you would see. My skin is pale, but not like my mother’s delicate derma. My eyes are dark and stereotypically almond-shaped, and I’ve heard every nut joke in the universe. I’ve got hair straighter and thicker than any cheap comb can tackle. You can’t do anything with it. There was a time in undergrad I was determined to curl my hair, and all I got out of it was a dead curling iron.

  If you looked at me, you would see an Asian woman. I’ve long accepted it. My father’s side has always been an adamant, domineering bunch. It might as well translate in my genes.

  Culturally, however… I’m a mess. Such. A. Mess. That’s what happens when you’re born looking like me but are raised by a woman looking like her. It doesn’t help that my mother is the most culturally tone deaf person on the whole planet. Case in point…

  “What in the world are you working on over there?” My mother scoffed at me. I had taken up the brightest corner of the sunroom with the homework I had assigned myself for the weekend. With the promise of taking on extra executive assistant work around the office, I was determined to become flawlessly fluent in Brooke’s shorthand. I had also done research into this dinner in San Francisco. Background info on the event itself, the organization putting it on, and even the venue we would be attending. In a way, I found it more fun than playing games. It was my own kind of game. “Shouldn’t you be out having a life? You’re not in school anymore!”

  My mother had barely tolerated my introversion when I was in grad school, let alone as a working adult. “This is for work,” I said, curt. I was afraid to make eye contact with her… because it might also mean making eye contact with my future killer Miffy. “My boss Mr. Mann wants to take me on a business trip with him to San Francisco next month. I’m doing research.”

  “Really?” My mom’s shadow moved. “Tell me more. When’s the wedding?”

  I dropped my mechanical pencil. “Mom!”

  “All right, all right. Getting ahead of myself.” I’d say! “But you didn’t tell me that you were getting along so well with your billionaire boss!”

  I huffed into my 0.99 cent binder. No leather-bound ledgers on my budget. “Cut it out. It’s not like that. You know it isn’t, so stop getting your hopes up.”

  She scoffed again. Her favorite weapon against me, because she knew how much it annoyed me. “You’re never going to get a good husband with an attitude like that.”

  So I slapped her cheek with my own favorite way to goad her. “You mean like you did?”

  “Stop it!”

  I almost said I was sorry, but one thing I could say about myself? I rarely lied to my mother. “Please drop this subject. It’s so tired, Mom.”

  She went back to her seat, Miffy still growling in the crook of her arm. She cooed at her dog while muttering about how ungrateful I was, because didn’t I know how much she had sacrificed to teach me everything she knew about landing a good husband? A good rich husband?

  That has always been my mother’s ultimate dream for me. The only reason she put up with my academic pursuit of everything business was because she convinced herself it would lead to a good marriage with a good businessman. I’m sure the thought of me marrying reclusive Eric Mann would give her a Heaven-sent stroke.

  It wasn’t enough for me to make my own way. My own money taking care of her would never be enough. Too precarious, she said. Didn’t I know that the best plan was to marry? Lock that man down with a baby and live off alimony and child support? After the divorce, my mother went right into remarry mode. She dated every vice president and regional manager she could find, but they all fizzled out for one reason or another. We both knew that my father was the best she would ever do with her mindset. When they met, he was the American manager for his Taiwanese company. As long as he stayed in America, he was content to call my pearly-white mother his darling wife. Even better that the baby looked like him.

  Then he was called back to Taiwan with a promising promotion. My father filed for divorce the same day. There was no way he was taking us back with him. His company, his family, his whole social circle expected him to marry a well-bred Taiwanese woman, and my mother would be the biggest embarrassment to ever step foot in Taipei, let alone try to command Taiwanese business culture.

  All of my father’s dreams came true. Half of my mother’s dreams came true. Between the two of them, perhaps I had some sort of chance. Whatever my dreams were.

  I wanted to become successful, yes. But why? Who was I really trying to please? To stick it to? Because it wasn’t myself.

  I love my mother. Deep down, I know that. But I also greatly disliked her.

  “I should give those nice girlfriends of yours a call,” she said. “Maybe they’ve met some nice, well-tracked boys you can go out with.”

  “If my ‘friends’ have, then I’m sure I’ll hear it from them. You don’t need to poke your nose into it.”

  My mother left the sunroom with a huff. I went back to my homework, determined to be as fast as Brooke Pentecost when it came to taking notes in her own made-up language. Too bad dreams of binging on the mango-flavored ice cream always stashed in our fridge called to me.

  ***

  I was halfway through packing up for my lunch hour when Brooke approached me.

  “Ms. Chen.” Her clipped voice could have either meant she was pissed as fuck at me or that something else consumed her. “Could you spare me a few minutes?”

  “Sure.” I put my purse back in the bottom drawer and followed her into the smallest conference room on the floor. A four-person table called to use to sit down, but neither of us did. Brooke was too busy closing the blinds, and I was too busy thinking up every way I had fucked up that day.

  “This is about that trip to San Francisco next month.” She leaned against the wall, one shoulder slumping more than the other. It wasn’t often I saw her relax in any way, whether on break or on the job. “Wanted to personally tell you since Mr. Mann is out that we’ve found a suitable replacement for myself. You’ve been relieved from the task.”

  “Oh…” I quashed any disappointment I felt, both to save face in front of her and to spare myself the sorry feelings that would only bring down my work performance. “If it’s something I did, I apologize.”

  “You haven’t done anything.” She met my gaze, maintaining that same demeanor she had carried since stepping into the room. “You’re simply not ready to handle a task like that.”

  “I see.”

  “Please don’t take it personally. I’m sure it was an honor for Mr. Mann to invite you along as his personal assistant for a whole weekend, but the amount of work and attention to detail it requires is best left to a professional with years of personal experience under their belt. It’s not a job I would suggest any of our interns take on, let alone after only a few weeks.”

  I bit my lip, holding back what I really wanted to say.

  Brooke relaxed, a tired smile crossing her face. “Yes, Ms. Chen, it’s quite impressive what you’ve been doing around the office. Nobody’s ever learned my shorthand before. I daresay you’re better at it than I am now.”

  “I wouldn’t say that…”
I would. I totally would. I completely dominated her own language within two weeks. Take that, Mandarin class. “But thank you. That means a lot to me coming from you.”

  “It’s a good thing we have someone like you on staff right now, Ms. Chen. Because you’ve been doing the work of three people, let alone two.”

  I knew that was her underhanded way of criticizing Aiden, who still couldn’t be assed to do most of the work assigned to him. How the hell did he get that job? Nepotism?

  “I appreciate your comments, Ms. Pentecost.”

  She studied me, like a mother would study a young girl daring to cross her threshold. Prom night. A reverse What are your intentions with my child? I shivered where I stood, as if the comments she had paid me now washed off with my budding sweat.

  Brooke’s scrutiny could eventually kill a weak man. Good thing I was neither weak nor a man.

  “Eric has taken a special interest in you,” she said, confirming something I had been hoping but refused to entertain in my head. “Keep up the good work and you will most definitely be invited to stay on past your internship. Possibly even in this office. Patty is due to retire next year and we’ll need a capable replacement.”

  Patty was the office manager and took direct orders from Mr. Mann and worked in tandem with Brooke on a lot of tasks. Technically, she was the one I received busy work from. So did Aiden and the other secretaries on payroll. Someone had to run the executive office while Mr. Mann and Ms. Pentecost ran the company.

  “That would be… wow.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, but certainly see it as a possible opportunity. Your eye for detail and work ethic are what we need to replace Patty. Besides, what intern wouldn’t give her left leg to rag on some future interns like she got ragged on?”

  “Were you ever an intern here?”

  She stopped chuckling. “I personally knew Eric before he asked me to work for him.”

  No wonder they were so casual with each other. What was it like to be so buddy-buddy with one of the most mysterious men in the business world? “Do you know why he didn’t come in today?” It was an open secret that Mr. Mann did most of his work from home. Hell, he often took whole weeks off at a time simply because he couldn’t be bothered to come in. Or so the rumors went. Others said he had some debilitating disease that flared up more often than not. Whatever that disease was. Some said cancer. Others said chronic mono he contracted with his sister when they were kids. He was the lucky one. He lived.

  “Of course I know why. It’s none of your business, though.”

  “No.” I swallowed my pride. “I suppose not. Excuse me for asking.”

  “Just because Eric has a special interest in you,” God, here came those claws! One moment she was cool with me, and the next she burned like fire. “Doesn’t mean you can’t overstep your bounds. Mind the NDA you signed when you took on this internship, Ms. Chen.” She turned toward the door with a huff. “We won’t mind you.”

  That crack in her voice cut me to the core. Every time the subject of Mr. Mann and me came up, she got this panic-stricken look on her face as if her life were about to crash down around her.

  She had known Eric before she even started working for him. They went back. Way back. All I knew about Brooke’s personal life was that she lived with another man, possibly her fiancé. On paper, there was nothing going on between her and Eric.

  But I knew that look. I may not have been the most well versed in love and romance, but I knew that look. Those longing glances. Those fearful eyes that begged Eric to not look like he was flirting with me, whether he was or not.

  She loved him.

  “There’s nothing going on between us.” Those words spewed like vomit from my mouth. God! What had I done? “I mean…”

  Her demeanor changed. Gone was the irritation, the frustration, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Now I met sheer, disgusted disbelief.

  “Of course there isn’t.” Brooke opened the door, purpose pounding from her heels. “I would be the first to know about it.”

  I didn’t have much appetite for lunch.

  Chapter 7

  NATALIE

  Three weeks into my internship, on the type of Friday that buzzed with more energy than me on three shots of espresso, Aiden boldly approached me the moment the clock struck five and we were relieved from our office-bound duties.

  “Why don’t we go around the block and grab a drink?” He slithered into his coat and kicked his chair beneath his desk. “We haven’t had much time to hang out and get to know one another, Nat. No time, eh?”

  Fuck me. He called me Nat. Ugh.

  On one hand, I had no plans that night. I was going to bring takeout home to my mother and allow myself one night off watching Hulu, taking a long bath, and eating my mango ice cream. My weekend was packed with forced social interactions and getting ahead on some work Brooke assigned me, due Tuesday. Why wait until Monday when I could get it done over the weekend?

  On the other, Aiden had a point. We hadn’t gotten to know each other in the three weeks we had been working side-by-side.

  I did not like Aiden, but that didn’t mean I shouldn’t know his background, his hopes for the future, or what he planned on accomplishing through either Mann-Garrett or in some other American office. It was good business sense to know as much as one could about the people helping them around the office. If I were going to take Patty’s place one day, I needed to know these things. I needed to know what made other people tick and how to use that to better the company.

  And so I would know what to watch out for.

  “Sure,” I said. “One drink. Then I gotta get home.”

  Aiden’s smug face made me need a drink more than anything else. That look basically implied that we were on a date. Which we were most definitely not, thank you.

  Nevertheless, I went with him. Jimmy caught us on the way out. I had never seen so much disgust on those sharp cheeks before.

  “So what do you think of the job, Nat?”

  He asked that the moment we sat down at the bar next door and placed our orders. A highball for him and a martini (dry) for myself. My body relaxed into that after-work routine that had my hand gliding through my five-o-clock hair and my arms sliding out of my coat and letting it fall wherever it pleased. I had already forgotten that I was in Aiden’s presence.

  Damn.

  “I think it’s challenging and exactly what I expected in that regard.”

  Our drinks appeared before us. Aiden wrapped his hand around his glass and widened his eyes at me. “I’m not Brooke. You can be real with me. We’re not even in the office right now.”

  No, he certainly was not Brooke. Brooke had tact and a professional attitude. Aiden was always one step away from me finally lodging that formal complaint that would get his ass canned. I was already doing work for two interns. The office would not miss him.

  “I am being real. I applied to be an intern at Mann-Garrett because I knew it would kick my ass. Don’t think you understand how well I handle professional ass-kickings.”

  He laughed. I knew he wasn’t taking me seriously, but I wasn’t expecting him to check out with laughter so soon.

  “But what do you think about Eric Mann?”

  There was something about the way he asked that… said Mr. Mann’s name. It wasn’t jealousy. I was good at sussing that out. No, what I heard was something else entirely.

  A deep-seated form of embittered curiosity.

  He had only asked one question, but I felt like I wa interrogated by a police officer. Hot lights on my face. Sweat dripping down the back of my neck.

  I hated it.

  “Mr. Mann seems to know how to run that company. I don’t have any complaints.”

  “No.” Aiden took a generous sip of his drink. “I suppose you don’t.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Aiden snorted. “You and Mr. Mann get along really well. Thought you might have some insight on how I could get closer to him
as well.”

  Really? How about doing your fucking work and going above and beyond like one would expect from an executive intern, Aiden? How about that?

  Besides, I know what he was doing. He was trying to use me against myself. If I gave away all of my “secrets,” then he could use them against me and take my spot as the most sought-after intern in the office.

  Not that it would have worked like that. But he probably thought so.

  “Are you talking about going with him to San Francisco?”

  Aiden shrugged, as if that had only been a minor thought. “Being asked to go along on something like that certainly is a plus. Means you’re doing something right.”

  “I managed to learn Ms. Pentecost’s shorthand in record time. That’s my upper hand, Mr. Webb.”

  “Please, call me Aiden.”

  “Fine. That’s my upper hand, Aiden.”

  He rolled his eyes as if I were the most unreasonable woman in the room. I’m guessing that any woman who dared to go up against him was nothing but unreasonable and bothersome.

  “He’s definitely strange, isn’t he?” Aiden continued. “Mr. Mann, that is.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “There are rumors about him, you know.”

  I wasn’t interested in any gossip that had nothing to do with me. “Is that so?” I had hoped that would end things there.

  Of course it wouldn’t.

  “A lot of people whisper that he’s gay.”

  What was this? 1985? Earlier? Who gave a flying fuck if Eric Mann was gay, bi, whatever? It had nothing to do with running his company!

  “He has those girlfriends, though,” I pointed out anyway. “The ones he’s seen taking out to dinner.” Not every night, mind you. Mr. Mann doesn’t have a playboy reputation like a lot of billionaires his age. He’s often seen with the same woman on and off over a few months. Women the press can’t find out much about. They either don’t have big backgrounds or anything the press digs up is too boring to print.