It’s two days until Christmas, and the office is a chaotic mess of employees scrambling to finish their work before the holiday. My work has been an endless chain of emails, filing of paperwork, and replying to press inquiries for our upcoming gala, which is little over a month away. Over the past several days, I’ve received more than 100 calls on my office line asking for Nicholas. It seems that everyone is waiting until the last minute to call him with their inquiries, and he’s been too busy with company meetings to get back to anyone.
“Ms. Rebecca Gellar?”
I look up to see a pretty brunette wearing a gray blazer and skirt standing in front of my cubicle. She wears a badge with the name Selene on it, but it looks nothing like the ones we wear at work. I shove aside the stack of papers on my desk before giving her my full attention. She must think I’m a pig with my cubicle looking like it was hit by a windstorm. I can’t blame her.
“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting you,” she says warily.
“No, it’s fine. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I was given instructions to give you this.” She extends her hand, holding a single red bag toward me. “Merry Christmas.”
She flashes me a smile before walking away and heading toward the elevator. I stare at the bright red bag that has a single gold letter: R. Who would get me a gift? Carol? No, I told her not to get me anything when we went shopping at Macy’s. Oh god, I hope it’s not from Miles. I haven’t seen him since the incident and I couldn’t be happier about it. Although that’s not to say I haven’t gotten more text messages from him. This morning he sent me two more asking if I would go with him to a party for New Year’s. I immediately deleted his texts. Later tonight I’ll have to figure out how to block his number.
I call after the pretty brunette, but she walks through the elevator doors before I have a chance to catch her. After staring at the bag through my lunch break, I decide to take a peek at what’s inside. Buried toward the middle of the bag I find a card with eerily familiar handwriting. Shit. Is this from Nicholas? I rip it open, to find only two words written in heavy print:
Merry Xx-mas.
If the card was from anyone else, I would laugh at the misspelling of the slang for Christmas, but I know who this gift is from, and I also know that he didn’t accidentally misspell it. No, Nicholas has a thing for his double X’s. I slowly remove the pink tissue paper from inside. What if there’s something embarrassing? Frilly Lingerie? Dildos? Okay, Nicholas wouldn’t buy me a dildo, but it could still be something embarrassing.
At the bottom of the bag is a long, white box with my name engraved in shiny gold lettering. I slowly remove the top, holding my breath in anticipation. To my surprise, a white Venetian mask in the middle of it, shining brightly up at me. I lean back in shock at the flawless beauty of the mask and its encrusted frame. Holy shit, are those real diamonds? It sits there taunting me, begging me to try it on. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone give me such an expensive gift. This must be his way of apologizing for being an asshole.
“Whoa. Who bought you that?” Ken asks, walking into the break room.
“No one,” I squeak. I close the box and throw it back into the bright red bag.
“Okay…I’m glad to see you back at the office. We missed you around here.”
“We?” I ask, looking at the empty lunchroom around me. I barely speak to anyone on the floor so I’m pretty sure no one missed me.
“Okay, I missed you,” he says, blushing profusely. “You sort of brought the color out in the office. Without you, it’s sort of just…”
“Gray?” I offer. What is it about New Yorkers and their gray suits? Everywhere I go I’m surrounded by masses of gray, whether I’m walking down the street, or taking the subway. I guess after almost two months, I’m still not used to the absence of colorful Los Angeles.
“Exactly.” Ken smiles and hands me an envelope. “So what are your plans for our time off? Any special plans for Christmas or New Year's Eve?
“I'm not sure. I would like to visit my parents, but I don't have the funds to fly to Los Angeles, and Nicholas said he was going to have me working through the holidays because I messed up his vacation plans."
"I think he was bluffing," he laughs.
I know what my plans are for tonight. I’m going straight over to Nicholas’s apartment and returning this damn gift. It’s far too expensive, and I’m pretty sure his gifts aren’t the kind that come without strings attached.
After work I find my way back to Nicholas’s massive limestone mansion, or as he calls it – his apartment. Snow peppers the hedges that line the majestic building behind the black cast-iron gates. Somehow the upscale neighborhood that surrounds it looks desolate, despite the slew of tourists and holiday shoppers that have invaded the icy streets of New York. Perhaps most of the residents here are on holiday vacations. I wouldn’t doubt it. Anyone who lives here must have the money than God if they own an apartment in this part of the city.
To my surprise, a festive snowman flickers inside Nicholas’s apartment window. I didn’t take him as the type to put up holiday decorations, but then again, I didn’t expect him to get me an early Christmas present, either. I knock on his door twice and wait, half expecting to see Alison’s bitchy face. My heartbeat quickens at the sound of his muffled voice coming through the door. I look down at the small, red gift bag in my hand, and for a second, I regret coming here. This is stupid. I should’ve just left it on his desk or something. I hesitate a moment longer before turning to go back home.
“Rebecca?” Nicholas’s voice calls to me and I turn to find him standing at his door.
The smell of freshly baked cookies wafts through the door as the sight of Nicholas in a snowman apron over a crisp, white dress shirt and black slacks hits me full force. He looks like he just stepped out of a role-reversal from a 1950s catalog.
I bite back a laugh as I spot the red oven mitt on his left hand. His blue eyes go wide in surprise and his mouth opens as if he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. A faint rush of red kisses his nose and cheeks. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look embarrassed. I’m guessing he doesn’t usually wear things like this at home. He looks down and spots the red gift bag in my hand. I shove it into his hand and then focus my attention at the empty space behind him.
“I just came by to return this to you. It’s too much, and I can’t accept it. .”
“It was a gift. I –”
“Who is it?” A petite blonde woman with striking aquamarine-colored eyes pops into view, cutting Nicholas off. For a moment, disappointment fills me at the sight of another woman in his apartment, but it quickly evaporates as a familiar smile lights up her face. I know her from somewhere. Her gaze washes over me in curiosity before looking up at Nick. We wait for him to say something, but Nicholas keeps his eyes trained on me as he grips my present.
“Well, obviously she’s not Tristan,” she says, smiling as she elbows Nicholas. Could she be his sister? She seems to be very comfortable with him. Nicholas’s silence is starting to make me feel uncomfortable. I can sense an awkwardness filling the space. Why is he being so quiet? This is already embarrassing enough.
I find myself apologizing for no reason. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude… I… just wanted to drop the gift off on my way home.” Lie. It isn’t a gift for him and Nicholas’s apartment is out of my way. It’s actually past Carol’s and my apartment.
“Come inside, please? We were just about to have dinner,” he says, giving me an apologetic smile as he holds open the door.
“Uh.” Fuck. “I should probably go.” If Alison sees me here, it will only cause more trouble for me.
“I insist that you stay,” Nicholas says, as he grasps my elbow. “And this was a gift. I’m not taking it back.” He hands me back the red gift bag and I suppress my embarrassment as I shove it in my coat pocket.
“The dining room is this way.” The pretty young blonde gestures for me to come inside, and the onl
y word I manage to get out before I’m steered in is, “Okay.”
“This is my sister Emily,” Nicholas says, motioning toward the young woman. That explains the familiar model-like features. “Emily, this is my assistant. Rebecca.”
She takes my hand and shakes it with vigor. “It’s nice to meet you.” A wide grin lights up Emily’s face. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I blush. Nicholas has probably told her how I’m a big pain in the ass. “Thank you, it’s lovely to meet you, as well.”
“Come inside, Nick was checking on our chocolate chip cookies.” He bakes?
“Here, I’ll take your coat.” Emily says, grabbing it and hanging it in a nearby walk-in closet.
“Thank you.”
Emily and Nicholas lead me through the limestone mansion toward the dining room. I swallow the lump of nerves in my throat as Nicholas follows closely behind me. The air inside this apartment suddenly feels very thin. He brushes up against me, and I’m immediately caught off guard as he rests his hand just above my hip. The sensation strikes me with the memory of dragging him home from the Lit For Kids event. My cheeks heat at the need that fills my lower half. I haven’t been able to forget night of the Lit For Kids event and the way he slipped his fingers inside me and rocked me to an orgasm on the icy ledge of the balcony.
Something happened that night that propelled us to this moment. This awkward moment where we try to tiptoe around the giant ass elephant in the middle of the freakin’ room. God, I miss the feeling of being ravaged by him. Nicholas squeezes my hip and lets go. I exhale, hoping to God I didn’t just say that out loud instead of just thinking it.
We step into the dining room and my eyes are immediately drawn to the walls. They’re textured stucco, painted a Tuscan-orange with brown accents. The color is rustic and lovely and warm, and coincidentally, it reminds me of home, and the feeling of digging my toes in warm sand. That’s probably the thing I miss the most about California, and I haven’t had a chance to go to any of the beaches out here. Not that they would be any fun to go to in the winter.
In the center of the room is a round, wooden table surrounded by five cream-colored chairs. Above the table hangs a black cast iron chandelier completing the rustic character of the entire room. Whoever designed this room put a lot of love and care into what they wanted it to look like. I can’t help but wonder if Nicholas designed it himself, or if he had someone else do it.
Nicholas clears his throat, and I turn to find myself inches from his father. Stefan’s salt and pepper eyebrows shoot up at me in surprise. He walks over from the kitchen and greets me with a warm smile and a quick handshake.
“Hello, Ms. Gellar, I’m surprised to see you here.” A curious look crosses his face and I’m not sure if he’s pleased or annoyed to see me here.
“I came by to…”
“She came by to drop off some files. I invited her to stay,” Nicholas says.
“Well it’s nice to see you, Rebecca.”
I smile to myself. “Thank you.”
He wasn’t expecting to see me, and I definitely wasn’t expecting him. This can’t be good. I hope Alison hasn’t told him anything about what went on with Nicholas and me. No, I doubt he would be greeting me so warmly, if that were the case.
“Is Alison joining us for our Christmas celebration?” Emily asks.
Nicholas looks over at me. “No, she had a family obligation to attend to.” I sense a feeling of dissatisfaction from Nicholas’s father.
“You celebrate Christmas the day before Christmas Eve?” I ask, hoping to lighten the tension.
“We always celebrate Christmas the day before,” Nicholas explains. “It tends to slip by us if we don’t.”
Emily sighs. “Dad and Nick are always busy at the office.”
Nicholas smiles. “We try to catch up on as much work as we can during the holidays.”
The sound of knocking echoes throughout apartment, interrupting us.
“That must be Tristan,” Stefan says. “Emily, why don’t you get the door so your brother can bring dinner?”
“Sure,” Emily says quietly. Her easy smile is replaced with a nervous one. I watch her get up and quietly walk down the hallway. Just before she disappears around the corner, she stops to smooth out her dress and hair. Her nervous gesture piques my curiosity. Tristan is Nicholas and Emily’s brother, but not by blood. In fact, I’m not even sure when he was adopted into the family, but it must be strange growing up with a good-looking adoptive brother.
After dinner, Stefan and Tristan wander into the living room with talks of single-malt scotch and the fireplace, while Emily follows them in under the guise of putting finishing touches on the Christmas tree.
“Let me help you clean up,” I offer to Nicholas.
We head toward his kitchen as I help him clear the dining room table of dinner plates. The meal he prepared was simple, yet probably the most delicious thing I’ve eaten since I’ve been in New York. The baked honey-glazed salmon went well with the rosemary and garlic potatoes. In fact, I’m pretty sure I made a fool of myself when I practically licked my plate clean. It was definitely better than the microwave-friendly food I’ve been eating.
“Where did you learn to cook like that?”
My stomach flutters as Nicholas flashes me a smile and then winks. “I have my secrets,” he says, as he moves the cookies from the cooling rack onto a plate.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Tristan says, interrupting us as he walks into the kitchen. He sets an empty salad bowl on top of the counter and pats Nicholas on the back. “He learned from the best.”
“Who’s that?” I smile.
“Me.”
Nicholas throws him exaggerated eye roll. “Tristan taught me one dish and ever since, he’s claimed the title of being my teacher.”
Tristan laughs as he takes a bottle of Moscato from Nicholas’s wine cooler, pops the cork and pours a glass. He offers a glass to me and I sip it slowly, savoring the sweetness.
“The one thing I can’t take credit for is his baking skills,” Tristan says. “You should taste one of these.” Tristan grabs a cookie and plops it in his mouth before excusing himself. Nicholas stares after him in look of mild irritation as he walks back into the dining room.
“Did your mother teach you how to bake?” I ask.
“I taught myself,” Nicholas says, smiling sadly. “We don’t have a lot of traditions, but we try to keep the ones we do have. My mother used to make the best chocolate chip cookies for Christmas, and Emily loved them but after she left, the tradition went with her.”
“When did you decide to learn then?”
“After my brother died, there weren’t a lot of memories to make this season bright for us. So two years ago, I decided to try to resurrect some of our old traditions. This is one of them.”
“It’s a good tradition.” I smile.
“Here, try one.” He holds one to my mouth, and for a second I hesitate. The thought of anyone hand-feeding me makes me feel like a little girl. He holds it closer and I lean forward, taking a bite from the cookie. Warm chocolate oozes from the piece as it fills my mouth. It’s heavenly. Somehow, Nicholas baked the cookie to the perfect texture. It’s not too hard or too soft. I quickly move my hand to wipe my face of the chocolate that stains the corner of my lips, but Nicholas stops me.
I look up and his piercing blue eyes scan my face as he reaches up and lightly wipes the chocolate off. My lips part and I pucker them, kissing his finger. I can’t explain why I do it, but my body responds before I have time to think about the repercussions of my actions. Nicholas’s pupils dilate and his breath goes shallow. He steps forward, never taking his hand from my face. I feel myself slowly back toward the sink. His hips lean into mine, and I can feel him growing hard against me. My heart beats chaotically as he presses harder against me. I know what’s coming, but I don’t have the willpower to stop him.
Rebecca gulps and it takes all my strength not to chuckle at her nerv
ous response to me. I close the space between us, letting her feel the effect she has on me. She kisses my finger, and immediately my body aches to be against her. Her green eyes widen as I place my thumb at the entrance of her mouth. She parts her lips once more and I slip my thumb in. Without asking, she sucks it. Fuck. Her eyes close as her warm mouth envelops my thumb. My cock throbs as a moan escapes her lips. I can’t take it anymore.
“Rebecca, you’re killing me. My family is out there, waiting for dessert.” My voice is probably strained from all the blood rushing to my cock. I’m going to have to wear a cone to hide my erection.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” she admits, pulling back from me and trying to step around me. Her face is flushed in embarrassment.
“I know. It’s the same thing that happens to me every time you walk in the room.” I grab her waist and kiss her. Her lips are hesitant at first, but she opens up, letting me run my tongue along her bottom lip. I slide my hands up her dress and she gasps as I run my tongue down the side of her neck, trailing kisses on my way back up. Rebecca’s soft moan and the feel of her nails digging into my hair only encourage me.
“Nicholas?”
Her voice brings me back to my senses. “What is it, Becca?” I pull back, peering down at her flushed face and the desire mirrored in her eyes.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Her eyes trace mine as I push back a lovely red tendril from her sweet face.
“I never thanked you for bringing me to the hospital,” she blurts. “Carol said you were the one who drove me there, and I didn’t properly thank you for doing that.”
“Shhh.”
“Are you trying to shut me up?” She laughs.
“I can think of a better way of getting that job done.”
“I bet,” she says with an eye-roll.
“Nicholas? Rebecca? Are you guys bringing the desser–oh hey, uh…?” A sheepish grin spreads across Tristan’s face as he stumbles in on us. “Your dad and Emily are waiting on dessert. They’re starting to threaten mutiny.” Tristan rubs the back of his neck, apparently not knowing what else to say.
Bound to You: Volume 3 Page 7
