Bound to You--A Hot Billionaire Workplace Romance

by JC Harroway

  She still looks hurt. ‘Sterling and I are your family. Even though we live on different continents, we’re not going anywhere.’

  I cringe at her reassurance. ‘I’m not an easy friend to have. I’ve spent most of my life completely self-sufficient.’

  I want her to know the way I am isn’t personal. It’s survival.

  ‘Mr Oshima seems to value your friendship. He told me how you’ve managed to tend that bonsai tree he gave you, the one at your apartment. I think you’re just selective with who you trust emotionally. Most people are.’

  I nod because she’s right—I only really trust myself. ‘It’s something I’m wary of with Blackhearts. I try not to get too attached to any of the kids or allow them to get close to me—their circumstances change often. Some get adopted, some move to a foster home in a different area... That’s why I lurk in the background.’

  Compassion shines in her eyes. ‘Well, in that case, perhaps I won’t come. I don’t want to confuse anyone. But I really appreciate you asking me.’

  We dance on in silence until she speaks again. ‘I too have an invitation. Would you come to Mum’s memorial?’

  My feet shuffle to a stop, the flight mechanism ransacking my nervous system. ‘But that’s private. A family thing.’ I always stick out like a sore thumb at those kinds of gatherings.

  She frowns and hurt flashes over her features. ‘It’s a party. It’s not sad or anything. If the weather’s nice we hold it in the garden. Lots of food and drink and music. The grandkids running around and jumping in the pool...’

  At my continued hesitation, she trails off.

  Then she lifts her chin. ‘Sterling will be there.’

  The reminder of the other man who’s been in her life smacks me in the head. But, unlike him, I’m a grown man who needs convincing to go to a party to remember Cathy.

  ‘That’s different. He used to be part of the family. You were married to him.’ Why am I talking about another man while her underwear is in my pocket and I ache to bury myself inside her?

  ‘So? You’re part of my family too. I’m not having you sitting alone in a hotel somewhere while we socialise. I want you there.’ Her tone softens. ‘Just...think about it. Please.’

  My hesitance feels like a fight for life, but of course I’m overreacting. Still, I can’t give her any reassurance when I feel so strung out. ‘Okay, I will. I’d better go. It’s almost time for my speech. Do you want me to escort you back to our table?’

  She steps away from me and shakes her head. ‘I’ll be fine, thank you.’ She squeezes my arm. ‘Good luck.’

  Before she walks away, I snag her hand and lean in to whisper, ‘Meet me backstage after. Payback time.’

  I walk away, mildly gratified I could put excitement back into her eyes, even though our conversation has left me more dismantled than ever. I’m not Sterling. I’m no good at the kind of emotional commitment it takes to form a relationship. I’ll let her down and she’ll see the gaping differences between us even more clearly.

  My memorised speech is brief. After an introduction in my stilted Japanese, I switch to English, knowing the event organisers have pre-translated my talk and are projecting it on screens to the audience. I’m not given to sentiment, so as I talk about my humble beginnings, hinting at my unorthodox start in life and the luck and drive of my early success, I focus on the thought of Monroe’s underwear in my pocket. It works as she intended and in ways she couldn’t have guessed—a distraction from the chill of my childhood memories and how they still shape my relationships today.

  The silk and lace burn a hole in my pocket. I glance out at the crowd. Speaking at the prestigious awards ceremony is an indication of how far I’ve come. Of the power I now wield over my own destiny, and that of others through Bold.

  And yet tonight I feel jaded.

  It’s Monroe—what she brings out in me.

  After London, we’ll go back to seeing each other a couple of times a year. Will my work be enough of a consolation? It hits me then, so I stumble over my words. Embarking on our affair has changed things, perhaps for ever.

  But it’s not too late to redress the boundaries. That’s what I need to chase off the feeling I’m going around in circles. I shove Monroe from my mind and shift closer to the microphone to deliver my closing points.

  ‘People often ask me for my business philosophy. It’s simple. Distilled into three key principles. One, work as if you are the only person you can rely on.’

  I find Monroe’s eyes in the audience, the predictable desire shooting along my every nerve. Her words bombard my brain. You’re part of my family too.

  I’m not. Not really. And I can’t get lured into her seductive web. I can’t need her or anyone else. I know how that weakness ends—with me alone again.

  I swallow hard with resolve and continue. ‘Two, apply integrity to all of your business dealings and with everyone you meet—you never know when they’ll be your greatest professional ally.’

  Sterling and I are your family... We’re not going anywhere.

  An easy promise to make. But, if Sterling knew about us, he’d understandably feel betrayed and hurt. Who knows how he’d react? Possessive heat roars through my blood. If the positions were reversed, if Monroe had once been mine, I’d struggle to stay civil and carry on as if nothing happened.

  Focussing on my final point reminds me where my priorities must lie. Where they’ve always been. ‘And, lastly, accept that you can never be too successful.’

  I smile, accepting my round of applause, and stride from the stage. Monroe burrowing under my skin is an itch I need to fight. The panties in my pocket help, a clear reminder of our seduction match and how currently she’s in the lead.

  But I can change that.

  Monroe is waiting for me backstage. After a smile and a few words of thanks for my hosts, I grip her elbow and guide her away from the ballroom, leading her to the room set aside for me to change. I need to get her alone, to remind us both how good the sex is so we forget about everything else—our connection, how spending time together makes me crave the unattainable and how I might never feel normal again.

  ‘You were great,’ she says, her voice breathy as she keeps pace with me in her heels. ‘I’m always impressed by your Japanese.’ Her mouth is saying things that shouldn’t cause offence, but her body language is prickly. I’ve offended her somehow. But I can make it right. I know what her body needs to sing. I’ll distract her with pleasure. Distract us both, because right now my desperation for mindless oblivion seems to have outstripped hers.

  I key in the lock code and push inside the room.

  ‘Tell me how I’ve managed to upset you.’ I take the scrap of lacy underwear from my pocket, remove my tux jacket and tie, and toss them onto the chair. ‘But tell me quickly.’

  She stops near the door, arousal staining her throat and cheeks, her nipples peaking through the fabric of her dress and her breath coming in excited pants, even as her eyes spark with defiance.

  ‘I’m not upset. Just surprised that you managed to talk about your business success without once mentioning your long-term partners.’

  I fist the panties and curse under my breath. It wasn’t intentional.

  ‘Forgive me, Dove. An oversight, I assure you. I’m used to thinking and talking about myself. The organisers wanted me to keep it short and focussed on my guiding business ethos. I didn’t want to speak for you and Sterling.’ I lock eyes with her. ‘I’m fully aware of how you’ve enriched my life these past five years. Bold is what it is because we’re a team.’

  ‘Are we?’ She’s still battling disappointment. Not the emotion I want. ‘Your speech made me wonder how you truly see us. Perhaps we’re disposable to you, superfluous to your requirements. As if you could cut us loose and work a bit harder—eighteen hours a day instead of fourteen—and achieve the same things alo
ne.’

  I take a step in her direction, as drawn to her as ever. ‘If you were disposable, I wouldn’t have spent my entire speech thinking about you sitting in the audience without these.’ I dangle the lace from one finger as I prowl close. I catch the scent of her from the fabric and need rumbles in my groin. ‘How could I ever forget you, Dove?’

  I wish it were that simple. I wish I could scrub her from my mind and move on as if this week never happened.

  ‘Be honest.’ I crowd her personal space, every cell screaming to drag her close and slake all of this pent-up turmoil. ‘Do you feel neglected professionally or personally? Because I want to make it up to you.’

  She takes a step back until she’s flush against the door, her stare hooded and her lips parted, almost in invitation.

  I rein in my most urgent needs. ‘I want you. Now.’ I wanted her the minute she fastened her trench coat this morning. Her stunning eyes carry the same hurt I saw then. ‘Are you too disappointed with me to let me touch you?’

  Silence buffets us, the air pulsing. She shakes her head, her pupils flaring.

  I stifle my growl of triumph. ‘Then show me what I want to see.’ I raise one eyebrow and wait, the underwear still dangling from my finger. This is where my focus needs to remain. On this crushing desire. Not the past or the future. Just now.

  With agonising slowness, she bunches the silky fabric of her dress in her fists and raises the hem. Her legs, covered in her trademark black stockings, are revealed to me inch by glorious inch. Shapely calves, slender thighs, the tantalising lace tops of the stockings.

  And then her nakedness.

  I drag my eyes away from the gorgeous view. ‘You play a very dirty game to win.’

  ‘So do you.’ She pants, her lip trembling.

  ‘That’s why we’re so good together.’ I cover her hands with mine, gripping the dress so it doesn’t fall. I press my body to hers and she tilts her chin, straining for my kiss.

  It takes everything I am to withhold my mouth. But I want her forgiveness. I want her in no doubt of what she’s come to mean to me—the most important person in my life.

  ‘Seducing you, fucking you, has nothing to do with Bold, understand?’ I kiss her, rubbing my lips over hers, my tongue surging inside. Then I slide my mouth to her neck and feel her shudder under me when I locate the correct sensitive spot. ‘Bold is the three of us. A team—I never want that to change.’

  I’d be nothing without Bold.

  She thrusts her hips forward and I take pity on her, grinding my hard cock between her legs. She’s wet. I can feel her through my clothes. I hoist the dress higher until it reaches her waist. ‘Hold it here.’

  I kiss her once more. Her head falls back against the door. Then I drop to my knees and spread her thighs open. I don’t want to drag my eyes away from the sight of her pink and wet for me, but I look up as I trace my finger over her strip of hair to her clit. ‘You torture me. Night and day. There’s no reprieve.’

  It’s agony and bliss.

  She gasps, her face streaked with pleasure, her breaths quick. ‘Hudson... Don’t tease me.’

  I push my finger inside her. ‘Why not? You drive me crazy... You’re too good at our game. A little revenge is well-deserved, don’t you think?’

  I pump my finger in and out, watching it disappear and reappear covered in her wetness. ‘Tell me I drive you insane.’

  She drops her head forward so she too can watch. ‘You do... I ache for you.’

  I look up, yearning stealing my breath. ‘Tell me we’ll handle this chemistry somehow. That we’ll never let it disrupt the company we both care about so much.’ I add my thumb, pressing it to her clit. Her word is vital. I need it almost as much as I need her.

  She nods, her eyes desperate. ‘Yes... I promise.’

  When I have what I want, I deliver her reward and mine. I cover her swollen clit with my mouth and push a second finger inside her. She bucks against me, writhing and gasping. I know she wants to grab my face, to tangle her fingers in my hair, but if she lets go of the dress she’ll lose her view.

  I watch pleasure turn her from a sophisticated professional to a wild and demanding woman. A kick of satisfaction ramps up, my own desire past boiling point. We might have strayed towards personal emotions, but we’re still both focussed on this uncontainable compulsion.

  Bunching the dress in one hand, Monroe grips the back of my neck with the other and holds me close—not that I’m going anywhere. She rides my mouth, one, two, three grinds of her hips, and then she shatters, coming with her eyes locked to mine and her core squeezing my fingers.

  I stand, flip her round to face the door and tear into my fly. I cover myself with a condom and grab her hips, dragging her back so I can bury myself in her from behind.

  I thrust into her, channelling all the out of control emotions this woman makes me feel. ‘You’re the only woman in my life, understand?’

  ‘Yes!’ she cries, almost accusingly.

  ‘I don’t want that to change. I don’t want anything to change.’ I pound harder and she meets me, her arms braced against the door.

  My fingers dig into her hip and I slip my other hand between her thighs, rubbing her clit so that, when I come she follows me, the battle lines of this insane connection fully reinstated.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hudson

  DIFFERENT CONTINENT. Different time zone. Same all-consuming need.

  As I watch them talk in Monroe’s favourite Covent Garden restaurant, envy slices through me like a rusty blade. Monroe and Sterling are like an old married couple, but then they were a married couple. They know things about each other I will never know. They’ve seen the best and the worst of each other. Shared ecstatic highs and desperate lows. They’ve made vows and chased dreams, the idea of which is enough to threaten the return of what I’ve just eaten.

  I curl my fingers into a fist under the table and smile as if I have lockjaw, tuning back into the conversation, which for the last five minutes hasn’t required any input from me.

  Because you’re the outsider. By choice.

  Sterling glances my way sheepishly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, clapping me on the shoulder to invite me back into their bubble of intimacy. There’s tension around his green eyes and his sandy hair is in mild disarray. Perhaps he’s jet-lagged. Perhaps he has his own shit to deal with. They’ve been discussing his cousin who died, preventing him from joining us in Tokyo. Of course, Monroe knows all of his family. She was once part of his family, as he was hers.

  And family connection is something I’ll never understand.

  ‘I’m monopolising our Monroe.’ He takes a sip of wine and raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to dive back into a three-way conversation.

  His words churn my stomach as if he’s kicked me in the balls. Because she’s been our Monroe. He’s loved her and I can’t stop craving her, even now when our arbitrary five nights have elapsed. When it’s supposed to be over.

  Reality couldn’t be more different. She’s constantly in my head. Physical need for her throbs beneath my skin. The thought of never touching her again makes those lonely, scared boyhood years and the endless powerlessness seem...inconsequential.

  No, a bond like the one Monroe and Sterling share would make anyone feel lonely. Who stays friends and business partners with their ex?

  I can’t think of a thing to say that won’t show how I feel, so I stay silent.

  ‘Tell me about Tokyo,’ Sterling says. ‘I hope you showed Monroe a good time and didn’t just make her work twenty-four-seven.’ He smiles, glancing between us, me beside him and Monroe across the table from us.

  Bitterness sours my throat. Why didn’t I sit next to her when we arrived at the restaurant? Guilt, probably. Some twisted notion that he has prior claim. In answer to his question, part of me wants to come clean and let Sterling know e
xactly what went down in Tokyo. A courtesy—it happened, it meant nothing, it’s over. Would he be more hurt that we went there or that we kept our affair a secret?

  But telling him gives our fling too much weight, or trivialises it. It’s complicated. The only way I can cling to my belief that I’m happy to always be the odd one out—because one day both Sterling and Monroe will meet someone who for them is a game-changer—is to play down what Monroe means to me. Pretend I respect her, but don’t care about her like that and can easily walk away. But I do care. I cared before I laid a finger on her.

  I avoid looking at her now, certain she’s evading me too. I’m too scared I’ll do something stupid like wait until she needs the bathroom, follow her and drag her into the alley at the back of the restaurant so I can show her that I have something to offer. As much as any other man. That I have all she’ll ever need for the rest of her life.

  Only I don’t. It’s a lie. I don’t want a relationship, a wife or a family. My jealousy towards Sterling makes no sense.

  I just don’t want to give her up yet.

  As if she’s waited long enough for me to fill the awkward silence, Monroe speaks up in a rush.

  ‘It was beautiful at this time of year. Cherry blossom everywhere. And, on my last day, Hudson took me to the Sensō-ji Temple that we planned to visit.’

  A green haze filters my vision. If Sterling had made the trip to Tokyo as planned, my sightseeing services wouldn’t have been required. Nor would she have needed me for distraction or emotional support.

  Sterling peers at her with mock-disbelief. ‘He gave you time away from business to sightsee?’

  ‘Yes, he did.’ Monroe laughs but her face flushes. She covers her telling reaction with a big slurp of wine.

  We’ve done little but fuck for the past seventy hours. We even fucked in the car on the way to said temple—a shrine dedicated to Kannon, the Buddhist goddess of compassion. For most of the twelve-hour flight to London we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We reasoned being airborne, crossing time zones, created a grey area, stretching out the last twenty-four hours so that technically it didn’t count as an additional night.