BOUND: Together

by Cynthia Dane

  I kissed her so hard that I couldn’t feel my lips. I felt up her thighs beneath her skirt and wanted to cry. By the end of the night, I would memorize every inch of her body and tuck it away into the back of my mind. There would be a map hanging in my memory. Every contour. Every freckle. Every little hair that drove me mad because it was another piece of her that was unique.

  Her scent. Her taste. I didn’t care if she forgot me in a year’s time. But I would remember her, and I would cherish this night as if it were my last shot at any hint of normalcy.

  Too bad there isn’t a single thing about the way I make love that’s considered normal.

  Chapter 16

  NATALIE

  Eric only released me when I promised to do whatever his security asked of me. “Give me a few minutes,” he said, stepping out of the Mercedes and straightening out his jacket. “I want to make sure everything is ready for your arrival.”

  He said that with a flirtatious smile and wink, setting my mind at ease. “Sure. What should I…”

  “Margot the head housekeeper will take care of you for the next twenty or so minutes.” Clyde will escort you to her.” Eric stopped before shutting the door. His next look sent even warmer shivers down my spine. “I won’t take long. Promise.”

  The door shut in my face.

  “Right this way, Ms. Chen.” Clyde reopened it a minute later. His genial manner made me feel like I was taking my favorite uncle’s hand. Only Clyde was about ten years younger than any uncles of mine. “That’s Margot up there. Afraid I have to park and service the car.”

  “Of course. Thank you so much.” I was already halfway up the front steps leading to the ornate double doors of Mann Manor. A woman in the most conservative maid’s outfit I had ever seen stood upright in the center of the doorway. Her visage was neither welcoming nor threatening. Exactly what I would expect from a woman with enough experience to hold the position of Head Housekeeper of Mann Manor.

  “Follow me.” No other greetings.

  A grand staircase spread before me, the dark mahogany of the banister only rivaled by the crimson red runner spilling across the steps and black marble floor beneath my feet. The door closed behind me with a loud and mighty CLANK. The air instantly grew chilly, and I shivered in my trench coat – which Margot insisted on taking.

  “In here.” She had to say it twice, since my breath had been stolen by the gold and crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It was bigger than the Mercedes! “In here, please.”

  I waited in a salon. A salon. The kind of grandiose reception and light entertainment room I had only read about in classic books and heard about from my well-off friends in the industry. Of course the great-grandfather of Eric Mann had built a home with at least one proper salon. Probably for his wife. Cerise Lexington had been one of the most well-to-do women in the mid-Victorian peerage. Even in America, she would want a bloody salon she could show off to her British friends.

  Like the chandelier was bigger than a luxury vehicle, this salon was bigger than my mother’s master bed and bath back home. The antique furniture was carefully arranged and the lighting expertly set up to make it look even bigger. Since I was the only one in the room for the next ten minutes, I made myself at home on one of the chaise lounges and pretended to be more interested in the intricate patterns of the fabric than my fantasies begging me to think of how Eric Mann fucked.

  I had standards for myself, all right?

  My daydreams were rudely interrupted. Not by Margot or even Eric, but by Sherman, head of security…

  My new nightmare.

  He dumped a folder of papers onto the coffee table in front of me. I leaped with a start and gasped from the force rumbling through the fragile salon. Crystals on a shelf rattled. The overhead light swung back and forth. The earthquake Sherman brought in his wake as he slammed the salon door behind him would have made lesser women cry.

  I merely flinched. Still a sign of weakness.

  “Sign it.” He yanked a pen out of his front pocket and shoved it into my hand. “Now.”

  “What?”

  The folder cover flipped open. Even in my confusion, I could still spot an extensive NDA from a mile away. “Sign it. Now.”

  I snatched the top page off the stack. Unfortunately, I was so intimidated by this man I rarely thought about the legal jargon that blurred together. “What is this for?”

  “What do you think?” Sherman loomed over me, arms crossed and sunglasses still covering his eyes. “You’re a smart woman. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  The paper trembled in my hand.

  “The longer it takes for you to sign it, the longer it takes for you to see Eric.”

  Did Eric know this was happening? That his head of security was in my face, demanding that I sign yet another NDA right now? This wasn’t the same level of cautious and professional that I had come to expect from Sherman Smith. This was intimidation. Threats. A promise to make my life hell – or end it altogether – if I did not comply.

  It’s a good thing I had gone to the bathroom before getting into the Mercedes.

  I quickly read the opening paragraph of the NDA. “I, ___ , hereby agree to not speak of what I see, witness, or hear…”

  The NDA covered everything that happened the moment I crossed the threshold of Mann Manor. I couldn’t say a thing about what happened. I couldn’t take pictures. I couldn’t record audio. Basic stuff. But all this intimidation for a fucking lay?

  It’s not the surprise NDA that freaked me out. In a way, I had expected it. A man like Eric would want to make sure his bases were covered before sleeping with any woman. He had a lot to lose and nothing but pleasure to gain – pleasure he could regret after it was over. Not to mention the security risks of following his dick.

  It was the way it was administered that freaked me the fuck out. Sherman barging in and shoving the pen into my hand. The look of certain death on his face. The chill permeating the cold, lifeless salon.

  Something was amiss. Something lurked, waiting for me to discover the big, dark secret living in this house.

  The Manns would make sure I never, ever spoke of it.

  “Look,” Sherman forced his shoulders down and took in a deep breath. As if that made him look less intimidating! “This is important. I absolutely cannot let you see Eric tonight if you do not sign this.”

  I swallowed my shock. “Does every woman he sees have to sign this?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  At least some of my pride was restored. This wasn’t personal. This was everyone covering their asses while I prepared mine for something else entirely.

  I picked up the pen and started filling in the blanks. My initials. Signatures. Dates. I sped through random paragraphs to make sure I wasn’t signing away my blood and hair. No. Only promising to not take Eric’s.

  It was expressed that I would not take any of his DNA home with me tonight. My imagination filled that in.

  Besides… I told myself that if I continued with this night and more red flags went off, I would leave. Nothing about the NDA prevented me from walking out the door. I simply would not be invited back in.

  God, all this for sex! With my boss! If God was trying to make me rethink every step of this weekend, then he was working overtime. Shouldn’t he be focusing on the wars, famines, and natural disasters around the world? One woman’s possible regret shouldn’t have been on his radar.

  “There.” I closed the folder and slammed the pen on top. “It’s done. Can I go, now?”

  Sherman studied my pursing lips before speaking into his headset. “The document is signed. Heading up.” Once he received confirmation from someone else, he moved the mic away from his mouth and said, “Follow me. If you wander away, you’re out of here.”

  You’d never guess I was the top intern at Mann-Garrett. That I had accompanied our boss on an important trip to another city. That I was Natalie fucking Chen, a woman who always knew to keep her hands to herself u
nless allowed otherwise.

  I was treated like a woman off the street. A part of me decided we would play along with that. I had long signed away my self-respect. Specifically, the night before, when I kissed my boss.

  Sherman made sure I stayed right behind him as we entered a hidden elevator in lieu of taking the stairs. When we stepped out into a quiet hallway, another man in a suit like Sherman’s appeared and stayed right behind me.

  I was flanked. A man in front and behind. Walls on either side. You would have thought that I was an heiress escorted to a prince’s chambers.

  Margot stood in front of another pair of double-doors. “Beta is complete,” she said with her no-nonsense voice. Under other circumstances, I would have loved her. “Mr. Mann is ready.”

  “Thank you, Margot.” That was the kindest tone I had heard from Sherman since we crossed paths downstairs. “I’ll take it from here.”

  They exchanged one last glance before Margot walked by. She spared me a cold look that sent the most uncomfortable shivers yet down my already frozen spine.

  I hoped this was worth it.

  As soon as the doors opened and I was led into Eric Mann’s private chambers, I realized it was.

  Chapter 17

  ERICA

  “Ms. Chen is on her way.”

  That voice echoed from the intercom built into my coffee table. I had never been so happy to hear Margot.

  Natalie appeared in my doorway not one minute later, when I had stood up from that damned centerpiece I was halfway to throwing into the trash can. I couldn’t think about it anymore when I saw the expectant face of a woman glad to finally be alone with me.

  And we were alone. If someone waited for me in my bedroom, then they belonged in jail.

  “I hope my staff didn’t scare you.” I offered her to sit with me on my sofa. “They’re only doing what I pay them to do, which is look after my best interests.” I could say that again.

  “They were quite intense, yes. Especially Mr. Smith.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle as I imagined Sherman staring her down like my father from another life would have. “He and I go back many years. Before he was my personal bodyguard, he was the head chef’s son who often helped around the kitchen.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s how we met. He’s only a couple years older than me.”

  Natalie sat on the edge of my sofa. “Can I ask you a question?”

  Already, I had made the executive decision to pour us some refreshments. Preferably, something that would loosen us up. Especially if I would allow questions in my bed chamber. While I poured us both a short glass of wine, I replied, “Depends. Let’s not bog this night down with anything too serious.”

  Natalie hesitated, lips burning with whatever had been haunting her. The NDAs? Sherman’s attitude? Margot’s attitude? (That was the only one I couldn’t answer.) “What’s the history between you and Ms. Pentecost?”

  I stopped pouring. “We don’t go back nearly as far, but we go back.” I offered her a glass of wine. She didn’t yet drink any.

  “Did you used to date her?”

  “Ah…” I couldn’t bring myself to drink, either. To think, I had poured that expensive wine because I was convinced we would be relaxing, not taking a trip down one of my memory lanes. But she had asked about Brooke. Surely, Natalie had noticed something between Brooke and myself. Hell, our engagement wasn’t a secret. A smart woman like Natalie could dig into the internet and find proof of our relationship. Even so, it wasn’t something I openly talked about. “Anything I tell you doesn’t leave this room, understand?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  I had psyched myself up for a lot tonight. Talking about my engagement to Brooke had not been one of those things. It required another deep breath, and a brief prayer that Natalie wouldn’t consider this an unfortunate pattern of behavior on my behalf. “We were once engaged.” There. It was out. “She ended it years ago.”

  “Wow. She still works for you?”

  “It ended amicably, and even though I lost her as a lover, I didn’t want to lose her as everything else.”

  Natalie pondered that for a while. Undoubtedly, it was a lot to take in.

  “About last night…”

  I stood up from the couch, my wine forever untouched. The more Natalie asked about me, the bigger fool I was.

  “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

  “Forgive me if I can’t imagine how.” That was my Natalie. Not only would she get to the bottom of everything, she had no problem pushing my buttons to do it. She would even forego having sex with me for the first time if it bothered her enough. It always did. “That woman was a pro.”

  “Yes. She was.”

  “So you don’t deny it?”

  “No. But I don’t invite sex workers into my room for what you’re thinking.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “I’m serious.” I turned to her, meeting that studious gaze that simultaneously undressed me and investigated my soul. “It’s not that I necessarily need you to believe me. If you need some sort of excuse, though, I find them better therapists than actual psychiatrists.”

  “Right.” she said. “Like you read Playboy for the articles.”

  Would it be uncouth of me to say that I have read Playboy? But not for the articles. For… research. That’s what I called it when I was sixteen and having the most gender dysphoric episode of my life.

  I’m really a girl… but they want me to be a boy… but all I want is other girls…

  I let that memory haunt me as I put the wine bottle back in its rack. It only served to remind me why I had invited Natalie up to my room, the most personal place I could call my own.

  She was still waiting for me when I ambled back to the couch, which I grabbed with one firm hand, the rest of my body looming over her svelte frame.

  I could’ve done it right then. Kissed her. Pushed her down and reminded her what we both wanted. Desperately.

  “I didn’t bring you into my house so you could interview me about my personal history, Natalie.” It was the first time I said her given name to her face. Each cacophonic sound clipping between my teeth fanned the fires in my loins, and I considered myself a most practiced person if I could do this without smashing my face into her breasts like a fucking barbarian. “I brought you here so I could get to know you better.”

  Her visage said yes. Take her. Now.

  Yet she crossed her legs and hugged her arms close to her chest. The closer I came, the more she trembled in anticipation. I waited for her to speak. Anything. A single word. A breath.

  “What could you possibly want to know about me that’s not on my file?” She purposely kept her lips away from mine. Natalie would not make it easy for me to kiss her. She knew, as well as I did, that if we kissed, we’d be done for.

  Except how could I do anything but toy with her?

  “Pretty sure how you look beneath these clothes is not anywhere in your file. HR would throw a fit.”

  She said exactly what I hoped she would, and not with a bit of extra hesitation.

  “How about I show you and quench your curiosity?”

  To this day, I hope she didn’t see me swallow. It took enough self-control as it was to not bite my lip and grin like an idiot. She had walked right into my plan. My humble fantasy.

  “I have a proposition for you, Natalie.”

  Her lips were back. One reckless move, and they would be mine. “You mean besides taking my pussy?”

  “Jesus.” Had she really said that? To me? “You’re an abomination.”

  “It attracts you to me.”

  No shit. “There are many things that attract me to you. But I need you to hear my proposition before you say anything else.”

  “Does it require me signing more paperwork?”

  “No.”

  She mimicked zipping her lips shut.

  “I propose that you come into my bedroom.” My lips diverte
d from hers. When she arched her back, my mouth grazed her ear, and it was enough to elicit that soft moan that had the power to sink the strongest ships. “When you do, you relinquish complete control to me.”

  Honestly, I had no idea how she would take that. Best case scenario? I had offered her greatest sexual fantasy on a silver platter – and I had plenty of platters to spare. Worst case? She’d be offended and leave. Natalie could’ve easily swayed either way. I didn’t yet know her well enough to guess if she were the type to embrace what I offered, or to run.

  “Do I get a safe word?” she asked.

  I could barely contain my relief. “What safe word would you like?”

  She kissed me. Just like that, she lifted her head and held her lips against mine, as if she were going to show me that, no matter how much I thought I was in control, she was the one holding all the cards and keeping the chips in her pocket. Did I dare gamble away the only thing I wanted?

  “That’s not a word,” I said through the grin I could no longer contain.

  A word fell from those flirtatious lips. Simple. Not easily forgotten. Nor was it easily uttered in the throes of passion. Natalie would have to be thinking of anything else but me to say her safe word.

  Chapter 18

  NATALIE

  I had almost forgotten the anxiety I felt downstairs. Almost.

  It slipped away as soon as we entered his bedroom and he turned on one light.

  “Stand right there and take off your clothes.” He walked away. “All of them.”

  The way he sauntered off, giving me absolutely no time to take in the decorations of his personal bedroom because I was too distracted by the muscles moving beneath his dress shirt, made me happy to oblige.

  I have never been shy with nudity. We are all born naked, and eventually our bones or ashes will be completely bare to the world. Nudity is arousing. Passionate. Inclined to stimulation and bringing with it the best of worldly pleasures. But it’s also vulnerable. I looked forward to exposing my whole body to Eric, to making myself so vulnerable that I put so much trust into his hands. So much that I didn’t know I had to give.