Something important to tell you. Be ready at 8.
Which in “Sato language” meant to expect him at 7:55 P.M. He had the punctuality of dawn. Always expected at the scheduled time.
But he didn’t show up as expected.
Sato had hinted over the past week that his father wanted him to return to Nagasaki for a family gathering. After he had worked for so long as an intern for a local tech company, Sato deserved a vacation.
I thought that might be the night he would ask me to go to Japan with him.
Eight o’clock came and went. All I had was the silence in the apartment and my worries. Had he gotten hurt? Was he unconscious in a hospital somewhere? None of my phone calls to his friends led anywhere.
By the time it was 10 P.M., I turned off my bedside lamp and stretched out on the mattress. The sheets cooled my warm skin, yet sleep eluded me. What the hell was I doing staying there? Shouldn’t I go out and look for him? But I knew not to.
Because I always followed his orders.
When my boyfriend made a request, I complied. I wanted to. To lie there patiently until he joined me in bed. That was one of my kinks and he sated my hunger whenever he could.
More time passed and finally I heard the front door to my apartment opening and closing.
Soon enough, fingertips brushed against my ankle as sleep weighed heavy on my eyelids. Then a warm hand grasped the pad of my foot.
A smile touched my lips. Sato always had a thing for feet.
“You have the feet of a China doll,” he’d once said. “A bit bigger than my stretched-out palm.”
He caressed my thighs, then my hips as he trailed his way upward. Then the warmth of his naked body covered mine. I ran my nose along his chest, my breath drawing in his intoxicating spicy citrus scent. He was all lean muscle. Wiry, yet strong. In the darkness, I could only make out faint shadows, but Sato’s face was visible in my mind. Every hard line. Every feature I’d memorized since we began seeing each other a little over a year before.
I opened my mouth to express my concern but immediately tossed the idea aside when he gently tugged my arm toward the top of the bed. My right hand first. Then the left. Anticipation made my breath catch. And oh, what a wonderful stretch I felt along my limbs as he fastened the O-links on my leather wrist cuffs to the short chains attached to the bedpost.
Afterward, his lips trailed from one of my nipples to the other one. Soft, brief caresses. He lingered long enough to thrill me yet leave me lusting for more.
He checked my restraints to make sure they weren’t too tight. Everything was nice and snug. I was completely secure. Once, he’d watched me all night like this, making me wait until I was soaking wet and squirming under his gaze. It was all about the anticipation. The moment when he’d finally touch me and I’d climax from a single stroke to my clit.
Tonight he didn’t hold back. Perhaps this was my reward after waiting so long. Sato gripped my hips to hold me in place while his tongue followed the curve of my thigh. Each swirl he made was slow and sensual until he shifted me to dip his tongue into my belly button. When his head lowered even further to French kiss my clit, I had to swallow the moan circling the back of my throat.
There was nowhere he didn’t touch. The nape of my neck. The ticklish skin along the crack of my ass. The tips of my breasts that begged for his lips. Every inch of me sang from his nibbles, bites, and sucks.
He plucked orgasms from me like a virtuoso played a concerto on a violin. By the time I lay exhausted on the bed, my eyes open to slits and my bones consisting of smooth jelly, Sato sat on the edge next to me staring at my bedroom door for the longest time. Then he leaned toward me and, ever so gently, he ran his rough fingertips along my chin. The gesture made my heart swell and strength surged into my limbs. If he wanted me to, I’d do anything to please him.
I looked forward to him doing this every night to me when we went to Nagasaki.
“May I comfort you?” I asked softly.
“You already have, gekka bijin,” he replied, his voice hollow. “Sleep for now.”
Gekka bijin. I was his queen of the night, his beauty under the moon. I’d do what I was told because that was what I always did.
Morning came and I woke up on my side. My mouth was dry and my body ached from lying in the same position for so long. Which could happen if I was tired enough. I rubbed an itchy spot on my forehead, then noticed something strange—I still had my wrist cuffs on. Sato always took them off me. The chains, which had secured me to the bed, hadn’t been put away either.
“Sato?” I called out.
My apartment was deathly quiet. Even for nine in the morning. Limpish limbs and all, I managed to angle my legs out of the bed. Every muscle cried out in protest. Since Sato had left before I had a chance to talk to him, I decided to text him instead—only to find a Post-it note on top of my cell:
I won’t be coming back, Sophie. I’m sorry.
The note was written in barely legible English. That was it.
That was fucking it.
My hand barely cupped a piece of paper that felt like it weighed a ton.
So there’d been nothing to tell. Nothing that he couldn’t say to my face. A cold shudder folded over me as I dropped the note onto the bed. Raw pain stabbed my stomach repeatedly and left me staring at the wall across the room. The now-bare wall that had held all the photos I’d packed away.
How could I be such a fool? Such a fool to think that he’d whisk me away to Japan with him? I was a gaijin. A foreigner who spoke Japanese but wasn’t the Japanese girl his parents expected.
I curled into a ball and pulled the blankets over me, but nothing made the chill go away. The intensity rocked over me in waves. I cried. I even slept with my leather cuffs on. I didn’t care anymore. His smell still lingered on the sheets but gave me little comfort.
Never again would I fall in love with a client.
A lesson learned since Sato had been my first.
Chapter 6
Sophie
Two years. That was how long I’d gone without any type of serious relationship. Let alone having sex. My lady parts were about to be declared a historical site at this point.
So when Mr. Quinn sent a text message this morning, I cringed a bit. After what went down last night, meeting him so early in the morning wasn’t a wise idea, but a job was a job. He even sent his driver to pick me up and take me downtown to his studio apartment.
He added via text:
two protein bars. fresh coffee. organic. one cream. eight sugars.
Just eight, huh? Talk about a one-way ticket to sugar shock.
Fetching the coffee and protein bars didn’t take long, and soon enough, I was using the door code he gave me to enter his place. I anticipated a mess—the guy didn’t have a personal maid anymore—but the place seemed vacant. Until I reached the kitchen.
Instead of using the desk in the living room, I found Xavier with papers scattered across the granite countertop. His laptop and cellphone were in front of him. He probably had a call on speakerphone. I took the hint and didn’t say anything.
“If we have to pay double for the resources, then do it,” he said firmly.
He twisted to look at me. I extended his coffee to him and he took the drink with a nod. His hair was wet from a recent shower and he smelled delectable. Just as good as yesterday. My traitorous eyes lingered over his dark gray slacks and took in how perfectly they fit over his ass. He had the kind of shoulders a woman wanted to run her hands down. From the top down to the shoulder blades. The back of his neck, where his blond hair had been perfectly cut, practically begged for me to draw circles with my fingertips along the hairline. So sexy.
A sigh rested on my lips and I had to take a drink from the second coffee I bought for myself.
All business, right, Sophie?
Then I got a good look at the laptop and saw a room full of people looking back at us.
Oh shit. My face warmed and I had to stop my mouth f
rom dropping open. He was in the middle of a friggin’ video conference and I’d been checking him out this whole time. His ass, in particular. The whole West Coast caught me looking him over like I wanted to strip him down and put on a show.
Beating a hasty retreat, I hurried to the living room.
A much better place to check out the view. Sunlight flittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows and I took in the view of downtown Boston. It was easy to get lost in my thoughts and think about the first time I looked at the Boston skyline. I’d visited every single borough in NYC at least once, but Boston still had mystery, even after I’d been here for a few years.
“Did you eat breakfast?” Xavier asked as he joined me at the window.
“I’ve already eaten,” I quickly answered. The most I’d done that morning was shower and throw on clothes while my roommates hibernated.
He chuckled. “I noticed you didn’t eat the other protein bar, Miss Ashton.”
“You asked for two bars so I assumed…”
“You assumed I wanted both,” he finished.
Most clients didn’t care if I ate. A businessman from Norway had me running ragged for ten hours straight handling conference arrangements for his employees. It was only the thought of the final invoice I’d toss at the guy that got me through the day.
This time I took the food Xavier gave me. I waited for him to interrupt my quick meal with questions, but all he did was sip his coffee and stare outside.
“You’re not hungry?” I asked between bites.
“I ate earlier and worked out this morning. The place isn’t too bad, by the way.”
I nodded. “Glad you’re settling in.” Now that I was almost done, apprehension tried to sneak in, but I’d tried to prepare myself all night for this. For the moment I’d be in front of him again and we’d begin this dance. With the last bite completed, I turned toward him. “Let’s get down to business.”
He offered a casual nod to show I had his full attention.
“The computer science department at MIT is hosting a luncheon and Nakamura will be present. Under normal circumstances, I’d advise attending the luncheon, but we need to stay under the radar at first. Our goal here isn’t to be seen as stalkers—it’s to gain respect. You have to be seen as a respected player on the field.” Normally, when speaking with clients, I looked them directly in the eyes, showing full engagement, but in the light of day, there was something arresting about the tiny gray flecks in his blue eyes. Focusing on his mouth was a no-no so I switched to his nose. Yeah, that wasn’t the best spot either since every place on his face looked damn good.
“And how would I do that?” That was the golden question that made sleeping last night difficult for me. My job was to make it easier for my clients to be happy, relaxed, and enjoy their stay in Boston. No one had ever asked me to undertake such a mission.
I continued. “What I do advise is to attract the attention of his inner circle. In particular, Kaito Watanabe.”
He crossed his arms. “The CEO of Watanabe Systems.”
“Yep. I did my research last night and they attended University of Tokyo together. Watanabe is a connoisseur of the arts. He has a foundation that is hosting an exclusive fund-raiser Sunday night.”
“So a hefty check won’t be enough?”
With a snap of his fingers I bet he could write a check for my yearly income without blinking. “That’s not gonna cut it. That would get you into any of the foundation events, but in this close-knit community it’s about respect and how others see you. Watanabe gets patrons, but only so many, from outside the Japanese community. Making an appearance at the opera event they have this week will definitely get you on his radar. Only patrons are allowed and Watanabe personally greets every single one.”
“So it’s settled then.”
I nodded. Nice and easy. “Now, what we need—” I stopped to see where he was looking. The skin along my wrist, the place where he stared, was flushed. He wasn’t looking at my face as I’d expected. I sighed. Opening Pandora’s box last night hadn’t been a wise decision. I should’ve kept my private life and pain at home—it was for the best, but the cuffs were a comfort I refused to remove. They anchored me and I put them on like I always did. Almost as if they were a part of my wardrobe.
Morning light shone on Xavier’s blond hair and the angelic halo around his head was nothing more than an illusion. A devilish heat danced in his eyes. It was as if he knew what I was wearing underneath my clothes and he could see through my chiffon top.
“What we need to talk about is what wasn’t said between us last night,” he said smoothly.
My eyebrow rose. “Am I missing something?”
I hadn’t missed a damn thing.
He leaned forward and I froze. “Since the minute I returned to this apartment last night, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I keep seeing you standing on that stairway to my bedroom.”
I tried to laugh, but the sound came out scratchy. “I already told you—”
“That you don’t date your clients. And I already told you I’m not looking for a girlfriend. I don’t need one.”
“Even if I would be vaguely interested, we just met yesterday. I can’t sleep with some guy I met the day before.”
He smiled and my stomach fluttered from how damn beautiful he was. “You can find out anything you like about me. The press has taken pictures from every angle. A few I didn’t like.” He chuckled a bit.
His gaze swept over me from my hair, slid down to linger at my lips, and then flittered over my collarbone like a lover’s kiss. My throat dried further as his gaze flicked to my wrists. Heat filled my face. What was he thinking? It was almost as if I was rendered naked in this room, tied to the table, and he could see every vulnerable curve.
I finally managed to speak. “What we—you—should worry about right now, Mr. Quinn, is the deal you want to secure.”
“What if I want something more than the contract?”
I laughed. “I’m not sure what to tell you, but I don’t think I’m the kind of girl you want anyway.” I might not be the kind of girl for anyone. Getting left behind wasn’t something I’d recovered well from. It was time to end this particular topic.
“You intrigue me, Miss Ashton.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls at the office.”
“No, I don’t.” His expression told me he was dead serious. Not even that brief upward quirk of his lips. Just his unwavering gaze. “I have very particular tastes.”
I took a step back, but he didn’t follow. “The day after tomorrow, we need to attend the fund-raiser at the Boston Opera House. Once it’s over we can—”
“We can see where things go from there.” He wasn’t joking.
I had a feeling this was coming after the dinner debacle and I was ready this time. “This is a high-end affair. Events at the opera house are red-carpet parties with celebrities and dignitaries with deep pockets. I am your assistant, not your arm candy.”
“I’d expect nothing more than that.” While he nodded, I did the same, but on the inside I was stumbling over ideas as to how I’d pull this event off. The last client I had who secured front-row tickets had her custom gown from Oscar de la Renta flown in from Paris. I didn’t have that kind of income. Yet.
I said my goodbyes, but he didn’t reply.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. I finally headed for the door and he joined me. It looked like escaping wasn’t possible. His large hand warmed my back as we strode out of the apartment and to the elevator. By the time we reached outside, the plaza nearby was full of tourists. With the whole day ahead of us, I could handle a few matters with other clients, but the moment I reached for my phone to check my messages, his hand caught my forearm. I still wasn’t used to the way he grabbed me. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”
“I’ve reduced my load as much as possible to take care of you.” From the corner of my eye, I noticed the nearby Bentley
parked in valet. His driver hadn’t made any move to pick me up.
I’d turned on the ringer so I could hear my phone ring this time.
“I almost forgot I needed to address that particular issue.” His light blue eyes coursed through me and my breath caught. With his free hand he reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope. He placed it in my hand and waited.
“What’s this?” I asked as I peeked inside.
The folded-up piece of paper was a certified check. That many zeroes on a piece of paper should be illegal.
My undivided attention for the duration of his stay had been bought.
“Bigger check, right?” he asked softly.
I held in a groan. This was too much. “I need to say something before I agree to anything. Look, just like you, I’m running a business,” I said. “I won’t jeopardize everything I’ve built for one person.”
“I told you yesterday what I expected. You’ve had time to prepare. Now you have the money to make it happen.”
His demand was extreme and yesterday I thought I could find a way to slide around the requirement. Apparently not. I held back a sigh. “Give me twenty-four hours and I’m all yours.”
He nodded.
“Fine.” At least I’d get a breather for a little bit to get my focus back in check. Having him so close to me was making it hard to concentrate.
He nodded and the Bentley came our way.
I got inside, but he had parting words for me before he shut the door. “Soon enough you’ll belong to me, Miss Ashton.”
Chapter 7
Sophie
Lunchtime couldn’t come soon enough after all the errands I ran. Jesse kept texting and calling me as I knocked out assignments like crazy.
Bound to You Page 4
