Bound to You (2 page)

When we settled into the Bentley's leather backseat, I found a moment to murmur, “Thanks.” If I weren't on the clock, I'd sigh from how comfortable everything felt. The car smelled divine. As if the vehicle was meticulously cleaned or was rarely used. A guy like Quinn probably had a different car for every day of the week.

The need to glance at my phone nagged at me a bit, especially with a client like Mr. Duvall, but the moment my fingertip touched the screen, Mr. Quinn's side glance made me freeze. I'd added as much space as possible between us, but he still seemed too close.

“Like I said,” his voice was smooth, “I don't mind sharing my suite, but sharing my assistant isn't something I'm willing to do.”

Well, I'd have to find a way to convince him otherwise. I had too many clients and even though I was grateful to him, I couldn't just abandon everyone else. No matter how well he paid.

The drive into the city was quiet. Too quiet for my taste. The need to turn my head left grew. Was he watching me? Did I even want to turn my head to find out? As the airport disappeared and the skyline grew, apprehension nipped at me. Time to go over what I learned from his assistant. “Ian told me you have a brief period of time to secure an important contract?”

Xavier nodded. “I have two weeks. I'm here for one man. A stubborn one. My company needs Nakamura Industries to create a prototype based on ideas we've developed. Our projections show the profitability margin is very favorable, yet Hideo Nakamura has turned down my army of lawyers at Silver Sparrow Systems five times. Each reason was the same: lack of management credibility.”

That surprised me. Over the past year, Xavier's company had been mentioned as one of the cutting-edge outliers for mobile phone engineering.

“So he believes you're not good enough to work with him,” I said.

“He's denied partnership to a few others, but he's got the people to bring my ideas from concept to completion. Three other startup companies were interested in using Nakamura's facilities, but he turned them down. He comes from the old guard—traditionalists who see startups as failure points.”

“If he's already turned you down, why bother trying?”

“Like I said before, I don't take no for an answer unless there is a logical reason.” He appeared thoughtful for a moment. “Nakamura is in town to visit relatives and conduct business. I've tried elaborate backdoor tactics to get that man's attention, but I'm thinking what's left is the face-to-face approach. That is why you're here, Miss Ashton. To get me that face-to-face. When we get to my vacation house, you can tell me how you plan to do that.”

Rush hour slowed us down, but eventually we reached the affluent Back Bay neighborhood along Storrow Drive. Rows of Victorian brownstone houses lined the street. This was one of my favorite places to visit when I moved here from New York City. Especially since I had far less spectacular digs east of here in Orient Heights.

As we pulled into a private parking space along Beacon Avenue, I had a feeling a new game plan would be in order. Especially if he wanted to impress Nakamura. The location boasted wealth, but it wasn't ideal if we wanted to seize any opportunity that came up.

The driver opened the door for us and I followed him to the private elevator. From there we rode up to a penthouse with high ceilings, large windows, and hardwood floors. The last time I'd seen a home like this was on the cover of
Architectural Digest
.

Technology touched everything, from the multiscreen security panel to the lights that automatically lit as we entered what had to be Xavier's study. Voice-activated computer monitors, a desk, and countless bookshelves filled the far end. He picked up the stack of envelopes on the desk, scanned them, and quickly tossed them back.

“We need to get started on Nakamura.” The way he focused on me was unnerving.

I nodded.

“Your home is amazing,” I managed to say. This was the first time I'd visited a client's place, vacation home or otherwise. For the kind of work I did, a phone call, fax, or an email did the job. Face-to-face communication wasn't as valuable anymore.

“Thanks. Acquiring property outside of Phoenix was one of the first things I did once I made some money. A friend sold me the fifth floor since he didn't use it often enough.”

My hand tightened on my purse.
Some money.
That's an understatement.
He had the
whole
floor to himself. My apartment could fit in the corner.

I ran my fingers along the edge of the dark wooden computer desk. Not a single blemish. “Nakamura is here to visit family and conduct business, correct?”

He nodded and I hoped he took the news I was about to drop-kick into his lap well.

“Then this place isn't ideal for your base of operations.”

Xavier chuckled. “Should I tell you who my neighbors are downstairs? The basketball player on the ground level?”

“I'm sure they're great, but if you want Nakamura, you're gonna have to trust me on this decision.”

He stared at me for a bit, his jaw twitching. He'd have to leave behind a few luxuries, but the sacrifice would be worth it once my plan was set in motion.

“Trust me,” I added.

“And what would you suggest, then?”

Ten minutes later I was the one doing the leading—into a
much
smaller studio apartment in a tower building in downtown Boston. I held my breath, hoping he'd agree to the new location: Chinatown.

“It's not as large,” I quickly said as he took in the single, two-level studio apartment, “but they have concierge service, security, a pool, and a fully equipped training facility.”

He strolled through the living room. There wasn't much to it—a couch, a TV, and a computer desk. “I haven't lived in a room this small since college,” he joked.

I hadn't gone to a traditional university so I couldn't relate, but I had an idea what he meant. To me the apartment was roomy, yet cozy, with brick walls and stainless steel appliances. Just the kind of place for a bachelor on the rise.

“Why here?” he asked smoothly. Every time he walked past me, with his arms crossed and his amused expression, I couldn't shake the rising tension in my stomach. He was like a circling shark and I was prey. Was he like this with everyone?

My fingertips traced the line along the edge of my wrist strap for reassurance. I walked to the northern window and pulled back the curtains. The evening Boston skyline opened up to us and I pointed to a tiny building nestled between an office and a restaurant. “That is the reason.”

He joined me. “I've never been there before. What is it?”

“I've yet to have a client visiting from Japan who doesn't consider bringing their business associates there for entertaining. It's Sakura No Hana. A traditional Japanese teahouse.” He continued to stare at the teahouse and a hint of a handsome smile touched his lips as I spoke again. “Matter of fact, most of my clients request accommodations at the Ritz-Carlton—which is a block away. I can do some digging, and by morning, I should be able to figure out where Nakamura is staying—”

“He's at the Ritz,” Xavier supplied.

I couldn't hide my triumphant smile that time.

Way to go, Sophie!

He turned to nod at me, and I fell into his light blue eyes. He was just at the right height for me to look at his lips. To take in how they parted. Damn. “Very nice,” he said.

He meant the arrangements, right?

I broke the moment before I said something foolish. “If you want Nakamura, you should be as close to him as possible. We also need to show him you're serious—not hanging out in your playboy penthouse.” I almost wished I could've snatched those last words back, but he immediately answered.

“I agree.”

“Great.” My cheeks filled with heat as I sighed. Things had progressed well so far. “Let me check a few restaurants like Shojo, Classica, or maybe even Da Vinci Ristorante to see what I can shake up. Maybe a manager can find reservations under his name.”

While he browsed through the studio, I made a few phone calls to the popular spots and five-star restaurants. Touched base with a good friend named Tony who owned three major establishments in town. I scratched their backs with affluent customers and they hooked me up in return. Once I had the information I needed, I found Xavier upstairs in the bedroom loft.

Right next to the massive king-sized bed.

There wasn't room for much else on the loft level. The bed had a thick mahogany headboard. The sturdy posts drew my eyes, so I quickly looked away.

He leaned on the balcony rail near the night table. “What did you find out?”

What immediately came to mind was the fact I didn't want to imagine my client on or near his bed. I didn't see him perched on the end, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, a look of hunger in his eyes. And, most important, I didn't hear him telling me,
Lie down right there. Raise your arms so I can tie you to the bed.

My imagination was running rampant today. I barely knew this man, yet the idea of being trapped under his hard stare made my thighs clench tight with need.

I cleared my throat. “You'll be having dinner tonight at Classica. Nakamura's party has reservations for seven sharp.”

He took a step toward me, his gaze never leaving mine.

I took one step down the stairs. Hanging out in the bedroom of a client, in particular one who was infamous for his many entanglements with supermodels, actresses, and other celebrity eye candy, was not wise.

“Now that your dinner arrangements are in order, I'll leave you to your evening.” I took another step, my hand tightening on the railing. “Will that be all?”

He strolled over to me. Confident. Assured. I took a step backward. It was time for me to go. Now.

“Not in the least,” he said firmly. “You're not off the clock yet.”

Just one long look at the woman in front of me and I knew there was no way in hell I was letting Sophie leave my side tonight.

The flushed skin along her collarbone drew my eye. She held on to the railing as if it were the only thing holding her up. Her hazel eyes blinked at me, her glossy pink lips parting for her tongue to slip out and lick the bottom lip. Damn. She had it all. A small waist. The kind of clingy black skirt that made a man want to run his hands along the curves to the hem and drag it up to see if she wore garters underneath. The woman was practically delicious.

“How do you know I don't have plans tonight?” She sized me up with a straight face.

“You do have them,” I said coolly. “With me.”

I took another step closer to her and she stiffened. With one misstep she'd break her neck falling down those goddamn steps. “Whoa there. I'm not comfortable with you standing there,” I said. “It's a long way down.” I raised my hands in surrender. “I promise I don't bite. I'm more of a nibbler.”

Sophie laughed, her beautiful face lighting up as she took tentative steps up the stairs to join me. Her professional visage faded again for a moment and I welcomed the change. She left as much distance as she could between us and found a spot near the only dresser in the room. “See? Safe and sound.”

I nodded. “Thanks—now to the business at hand, namely how I hired you to take care of me.”

She pursed her lips. “Ian said to take care of all your needs, but the contract he sent me said nothing about accompanying you
everywhere
.”

“Well, then I'm sure he told you I'm willing to do anything to secure this contract and your services were acquired to make that happen. Unless you need to save the world, you should come up with a good reason why you can't help me tonight.”

Like a family. Or perhaps another client I needed to silence.

A small smile formed on her lips. She crossed her arms as if she were chewing on the idea of giving in. I never accepted a no unless the answer was reasonable—and as of right now Sophie hadn't given me a good reason.

Before my jet had landed I'd expected to find a stiff, matronly woman waiting for me. Ian's sense of humor was dry like that. But when Sophie walked onto the plane, a sinking feeling came over me.

With a beautiful woman at my side, I'd have a lot more distractions other than my company, Nakamura, and the contract during this trip. She'd sauntered down the aisle in black heels and a tight pencil skirt, her shoulder-length brown hair in layers around her face. She was just another hired employee until she'd opened her mouth and showed me she could think fast on her feet.

I instantly liked her.

Which I now see was a poor decision on my part.

There was a reason why I employed men like Ian for my personal assistant needs. After my girlfriend Rosalie's death five years ago, the idea of having a woman close to me in any capacity wasn't welcome. Unless they wanted to
play
—but Miss Ashton was my employee and I'd never revealed my sexual proclivities to my employees. My kinky lifestyle was none of their business.

Sophie still hadn't answered me and I held back my amusement. There was something about her that intrigued me: maybe it was her hesitation. Most of my employees reacted too quickly, answering questions without thought as if such an action would impress me.

I did want to know what she was thinking though.

“Dinner and nothing else other than getting you settled into the apartment,” she finally said. “No fraternizing. No drinks afterward.”

Good try. Not good enough. “If Nakamura is still conducting business after dinner, then we'll have to reassess that decision.”

I was here on business, wasn't I?

Her gaze flicked to the bed and then back to me. As much as I'd like to see her on top of it, we had less than an hour to get to Classica.

“Why do you keep looking at the bed?” I asked.

“It's rather hard to miss.” She sucked in a breath. “I wonder how they got the headboard up here. The wood looks pretty heavy and thick.”

“A few burly guys. Some pizzas and beer afterward.” I ran my right hand over the blood-red bedspread, then the smooth bedpost. Sophie had good taste. “It's rather nice. Did you personally pick out this unit for me?”

“No…But do you like it?” Her smile was gone, but even the playful undertones to the question made me hard as hell.

“I can work with it—but I'll need my desktop and monitors delivered from the house on Beacon.” My voice came out thick. We'd just met and she was already messing with me.

“I've got a few technicians on speed-dial who can take care of those details.” She headed for the stairwell and I followed her. I couldn't help but watch the way her clothes slid over her skin as she walked. “By the time you return tonight, your studio will be fully stocked with everything you need during your trip.”

Downtown Boston at night awaited us. I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed the vibe. I only got to briefly take in downtown before we got into the Bentley, but one glance was enough: pedestrian traffic along the sidewalks, back-to-back cars honking along the street.
And the good smells.
If I was younger—and not as busy—I'd be tempted later tonight to head down to Washington Street to the rows of smaller, trendy restaurants.

But I wasn't as young, and I had no time to explore.

Our short drive west to Back Bay was a silent one, but we'd be talking soon enough.

Classica was an elegant eatery off Boylston Street. As expected around dinnertime, the restaurant was packed. With my status, I never had to work hard to get into a restaurant, but this time I hung back and waited to see what she could do.

As hard as I tried not to let my mind wander in that direction, I still couldn't help seeing how much Sophie reminded me of Rosalie. Not in appearance, mind you, but they both had similar height though Rosalie's hair was light blond instead of Sophie's brown. What seemed to differ between them was
how
they hustled. If something needed to be done, Rosalie handled the matter promptly, but always with that cold demeanor of hers. Before I'd met her, she had been one of the top financial advisors in Los Angeles. With a single phone call, her clients made millions. She had an uncanny way of analyzing markets to find opportunities. Even if those opportunities would
appear
underhanded to others. To her, the world was an ocean that constantly ebbed and flowed. You had to adapt for the right moment—and that meant closing off yourself to others who might stand in the way of your goal. They were two different women, yet they did the same thing: Rosalie studied markets to make money for her clients, while Sophie studied people to do the same.

Maybe that was why I found Sophie so fascinating. I'd always had a thing for women who knew how to get what they wanted.

Sophie leaned in to whisper to the maître d' once we arrived. He immediately nodded. She had secured us a spot beforehand. She was that good. I scanned the room as we walked to the table. Classica was a cozy Italian restaurant with standard dark blue decor and Mediterranean rustic feel. If you've been to one restaurant, you've been to them all, but it was the food that piqued my interest. Every customer seemed to enjoy his or her food and the wine flowed freely. That was my kind of place. Empty plates meant good food.

We reached our table, a two-seater. Sophie tried to sit, but I reached in and pulled her chair out for her. As I pushed her forward I caught a brief scent of her hair. Intoxicating. Her hair was thick. Almost begging for me to run my fingers through it. “It may not seem like it, but I do appreciate you coming,” I whispered.

“Appreciate?” She tried to hold back a smile but wasn't doing too good of a job. “ ‘Coerced' is more like it.”

The waiter handed us our menus. “When was the last time you ate?” I asked her.

“I had a PowerBar for lunch and then the phone calls began,” she admitted as she looked over her menu.

Meanwhile, a party to my far right caught my eye. Nakamura and four other men laughed and enjoyed a meal at a corner table. We had a great vantage point.

“Would you like anything from our wine list?” our waiter asked.

I didn't bother looking. I'm not much of a wine guy, but I drink it on occasion. Give me a beer and I'll be fine. Late-night coding doesn't go well with wine.

“Anything you want?” I asked her. I asked for an imported beer. The menu obscured part of her face, but I caught her hazel eyes and the flawless arcs of her eyebrows. From what I could see, her face was almost symmetrical. Practically perfect compared to most. Her long eyelashes blinked and I almost missed what wine she recommended.

“That sounds fine,” I said.

We gave our orders and then sat in silence until Sophie spoke.

“Have you found him yet?” she asked. Already on to business.

“Of course, but I'm not concerned about him right now.” I leaned back. Now that the menu was gone, I had an unobstructed view of my new assistant.

“You should be. He's meeting with Hayato Takahashi and Kaito Watanabe. They are pretty big hitters in the technology field.”

So she knew who they were. Interesting. Her voice became lyrical, almost musical when she pronounced their names. As if she knew Japanese. She tried to get me to look at them, but I didn't bother to follow her gaze. They weren't going anywhere anytime soon, and just knowing Takahashi and Watanabe were here told me my target was open to discussing business. If his dinner tonight were only personal, he wouldn't be entertaining others in the tech field.

“I know who they are,” I said. “What I want to know is your plan of attack this week.”

She shrugged. Her phone buzzed and she turned it off with an annoyed expression. Good. Now I had her complete attention. The waiter brought the wine and then poured each of us a glass. He gave me a Dutch beer, too. Once we sampled the wine and approved it, he left the bottle.

“As much as I'd like to plan things to the minute, I have a feeling you'll need to be prepared for anything. A last-minute wine-tasting trip, a drive to the countryside. Of course Nakamura's staff wouldn't disclose his schedule during his stay, so I plan to put a private detective on his trail. Nothing too obvious, but we need someone to track him and I'm in no position to creep around in the middle of the night in a catsuit.”

“You'd look good though. Are you sure you don't want to hide behind garbage cans and sneak around? You could add spy to your resume.” I cocked a grin.

“Not happening.” She returned a small smile.

“You hired a PI? Not a move I'd make, but I can work with that.” She was clever. I liked that.

Our meals arrived—a grilled tenderloin for me and pan-roasted halibut for her—but neither of us really ate much. I couldn't help admiring her face as I took a slow swig of my beer. The brew went down smooth.

“What?” She caught me looking and touched her hairline. “Do I have something weird on my face or something?”

“Nope. I'm curious about something, though. Ian wouldn't hire just anyone, but I've never heard of you before. And I've been to Boston a few times.”

“So you want my story.” She licked her lips and I wanted to taste the red wine that lingered there. Let the dry taste slide over my tongue.

“Whatever you're willing to share,” I managed. “You've already seen where I'm sleeping tonight. The least you can do is convince me you won't sneak into my room and do me in.”

Her eyes sparked mischievously. “I'm not the sneak-in type. If I'm gonna eliminate a problem, I have people I call.”

“Oh, so it's like that.”

She had a lively laugh. “Yes, it is.”

“How long have you been in business?”

“More than two years. It occupies all of my time.”

I played with my beer bottle, then glanced at her hand. She didn't wear a ring. “A beautiful woman like you should have some fun once in a while. Maybe even get a boyfriend.”

“How do you know I don't have a boyfriend?”

“I don't.” I paused. “Do you?”

“No, I don't, and no, I don't date my clients,” she said, keeping her voice even. The phrase came fast, as if she'd said it many times before.

I chuckled. “I didn't say anything about dating. Miss Ashton, flirting with a woman who has a boyfriend isn't my style—”

She leaned forward, trying to keep her voice low. “Did you miss what I said?”

“I heard what you said, Miss Ashton. Look, I'm not trying to start anything serious either. For the past five years, I haven't been interested in anything serious for personal reasons. A girlfriend is the last thing I'm looking for—but that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to enjoy an evening out with a gorgeous woman.”

She stiffened, apparently taken aback.

“Am I allowed to have dinner with a beautiful woman?” I repeated.

She gestured around us. “There are plenty of beautiful women.” Her eyes darkened. “There are even escort services, too. I've made that type of call before if you need it.”

Now that was an attempt at a low blow, but I was ready for it. “If I wanted an escort tonight, I could've called an old friend or two. The conversation and company wouldn't have been as interesting, though. I want to be with you tonight.”

Her mouth opened with a retort but nothing came out.

Our gazes locked and we stared at each other for a moment. It was true, I could've called a number of past flings who would've jumped at the opportunity to play out a scene or two, but I wanted Sophie. She was here for business only—she wasn't flirting with me or jumping at the chance to see if I was looking for the next Mrs. Quinn to take to my huge family affairs. That alone was refreshing and made it far too easy for me to say what I wanted.