Bound to You: Volume 2 Page 2

  “I can’t,” I say, wrapping my hand around hers. “If I lost them, I could never replace them.” It seems like I’ll be borrowing a lot of things from now on. Even my current outfit is on loan to me by Cheri, Carol’s client who runs the fashion line Retro Thrift.

  Unfortunately, the clothes that I brought from home are currently having cat pee dry cleaned out of them. Carol forgot to mention that the client lending his apartment to her also designated Carol as his cat sitter. “Sprinkles,” as he’s adorably called, is a longhaired Calico cat that’s a tad too feisty. I’ve been on the wrong side of his wrath. He doesn’t just claw the hell out of you; he pisses on people he doesn’t like. It’s disgusting, but Carol seems to think it's one of Sprinkles’ most charming qualities. At first, I thought he was named Sprinkles because he’s sweet, but I quickly came to realize that it’s because he likes to “sprinkle” all over your stuff. In my case, it means all over my luggage. So for now, I’m borrowing clothes until I can afford to buy my own.

  “I’m glad Cheri had a dress coat for you. It’s snowing outside,” Carol says, handing it to me. “Let me call Steven to drive you.”

  “That’s all right, I’ll take the subway.” I’m overdue for a bit of sightseeing. I haven’t really gotten to explore since I’ve arrived, and seeing New York is definitely at the top of my to-do list. Maybe the fresh air will also help me clear my head. If I’m going to work with Nicholas for the next sixth months, then I need to find a way to ignore his irritating qualities.

  “Are you sure you won’t get lost trying to find the subway?” Carol asks in a motherly tone.

  “That’s why I’m leaving early. I’ll be fine,” I say. “I checked the subway route online.”

  “Okay. Well, have a great first day of work.” Carol hugs me and then heads for the front door.

  “Thanks, I’ll see you for dinner.”

  “Becca?” I turn to find Carol staring at me. “A word of advice. Try not to get fired today, okay?”

  “Never,” I answer, laughing.

  I stick out my tongue to catch the puffs of white floating down toward me. I’ve never seen snow. The closest I’ve come to seeing it is having hail rain down on me, and that’s nowhere near as fun, especially when the hail’s the size of ping pong balls The snows plows didn’t clear the streets in time for the morning rush. I’ve trudged through it for what seems like three miles now and I’m already out of breath.

  I stop to stare up at the sleek grey building before me. Crisp white letters read: STONEHAVEN. It pops against the steel and glass skyscrapers surrounding its magnificent presence. I shiver at the memory of my last visit. I didn’t exactly leave here on the best of terms. I glance up to the top of the building, unable to stop myself from wondering if Nicholas is staring down at me from his office.

  The glass-like structure has a clean, contemporary look. The kind you mostly see in art districts. The company’s hub is located on 6th Avenue, which mostly seems taken up by commercial businesses. The streets are inundated with tourists, employees, and what I can only assume are Wall Street bankers on their way to work. Getting here wasn’t as easy as I hoped it would be. It’s strange to think how similar and yet drastically different Los Angeles and New York are. The city of Los Angeles is lively and full of color, whereas in New York, everything seems to be a different shade of grey. There’s also a metro rail system in Los Angeles but it’s nowhere near as crazy as the subway here. For a moment, I had considered Carol’s offer of having Steven give me a ride to work this morning, but I instead chose to brave the gritty streets of NY and here I am. Still alive. So far at least.

  Coincidentally, Carol warned me about the mugging rate out here. I guess it’s common for people to run up and snatch your purse. I can’t say I carry many valuables on me, but I’m definitely keeping a close watch on my bag. I can’t afford to lose that too. Excitement pulses through me as I step toward the front entrance. I take a moment to glance at my reflection and take in the strange sight of me standing on the icy sidewalk. I can’t help it. I pinch myself, testing my grip of reality. Nope, I’m not dreaming. This is actually real. It’s hard to believe.

  The smell of coffee and hazelnut assaults my nose as I step through the revolving glass doors. The building already seems different from the day of my interview. Inside, StoneHaven Publishing is a magnificent canvas of black marble stone and polished chrome accents. The lobby area is filled with employees bustling about as they make their way through. I spot an older woman standing behind the front reception desk screening phone calls and handing out visitor passes. Her hair is cut into a short bob with dark grey slivers that run throughout her waves of black. It takes me a moment to realize I’ve seen her before. She’s the woman who helped me the day of my interview. Her name is Mary. She looks up and smiles politely as she waves me over.

  “Hello, it’s you again,” she says with a polite smile.

  “Hi, yes. My name is Rebecca. I’m not sure if you remember me, but –”

  “Of course I do. You’re Mr. StoneHaven’s new assistant.” Mary looks me over with curiosity. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be back.”

  I blush. Geez, I wonder if everyone heard about what happened.

  “It takes more than that to get rid of me, I guess,” I answer, laughing nervously.

  I met Mary briefly before my interview with Nicholas’s father. I was surprised to find someone so welcoming to an outsider like me. I’ve heard horror stories from Carol about some of the people she’s worked with in New York when she first got here from California. Mary doesn’t seem like the type to go batshit insane on you. In reality, she wasn’t really what I was expecting to find here. Maybe it’s silly of me to assume that Nicholas would surround himself with young supermodel-type women, but that’s exactly what I thought. You know, the kind of woman Nicholas would fuck over his desk. The image of Nicholas bending me over a desk flashes in my mind. God, Rebecca. Just stop.

  “It’s nice to see you again.” I smile at Mary as she hands me a guest pass.

  “Welcome to the family,” she winks. “Please, take a seat.” Mary directs me to a row of black chairs adjacent to her desk. “Mr. StoneHaven will be down shortly.”

  I gulp at the sound of his name. I’m anxious to see him. I really don’t know what to expect. Maybe he’ll fire me on the spot? Maybe he’s been waiting for me to show up so he can embarrass me in front of everyone? No, his father wouldn’t allow it. I might be Nicholas’s assistant, but his father is the one who decides if I stay or go. He made that very clear when he hired me. Mary makes a phone call and speaks in low voice. She turns to me momentarily and then turns back, smiling into the phone. Somehow she seems a little too enthusiastic. My stomach turns in anticipation. I have the feeling she knows something I don’t. Shit. I really hope I’m not getting fired today. There goes my promise to Carol.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. It’s crazy around here this time of year. My name is Kristy, by the way.”

  I follow Kristy, a tall brunette down a long hallway toward the back of the first floor.

  “I thought Mr. StoneHaven would be meeting me,” I say anxiously.

  “He is, but Mr. StoneHaven is actually in meetings for most of the day. He ordered me to take you to HR and then show you where your desk will be,” she says. Somehow the words ordered sounds dirty coming out of her mouth.

  “Thanks,” I mutter.

  After three hours of filling out HR paperwork, I can finally say that I’m officially a StoneHaven employee. I even signed my first non-disclosure agreement. There was far too much technical lingo for me to fully understand, but one thing is clear: going to the press about anything dealing with the company is off limits. As in, do it and your ass is fired and smacked with a monstrous lawsuit. I spent the rest of the day familiarizing myself with my work area.

  Kristy is nice enough to show me my desk, which isn’t too far from the office of Carol’s cousin, Ken Phillips. I’m excited to have my own cubicle. Everything f
eels so surreal. I even have my own name badge that gives me special access to different levels of the building, and on my desk sits a box of business cards with my name, title, and extension. I gush at the sight of my name programmed into the phone system.

  I’m definitely hanging some pictures of Carol and me and mom and dad. My mother has been calling me every night at seven, like clockwork. Most nights she just tells me about her day and the latest gossip in the neighborhood. Dad has even called me a few times. He usually fills me in on what’s going in the latest season of Game of Thrones.

  Before I know it, five o’clock is just around the corner and it’s time to gather my things and head home. I should probably avoid walking home too late, especially when I don’t know half the street names around me.

  “Ms. Gellar, welcome to StoneHaven Publishing.” My eyes follow his mouth as he pronounces each syllable with a mixture of elegance and authority. I hug my dress coat tightly against the crook of my elbow as his voice sends bumps down my skin. Here he is, in the flesh. The dangerously handsome and enigmatic Nicholas StoneHaven. It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long, but somehow he looks different. His blond mane is slightly shorter and tousled as if he woke up with gorgeous bed hair. I bite my lip as I try my hardest not to moan at the sight of him in his tailored dark blue suit. I blush as my eyes unconsciously drift down to his crotch. His suit is perfectly fitted in more than just one area.

  “Gellar, my eyes are up here,” he says, teasingly.

  Right. How embarrassing.

  “Are you on your way out?” Nicholas watches me as I grab my coat and stuff my badge into my purse.

  “Yes, I am.”

  He gestures for me to follow him to the elevator across the floor. I follow him, partly shaking in my pumps as we walk down the hall. My heart races as we come closer to the entrance of the elevator. It’s like déjà vu all over again. This is bad news.

  “Maybe I can take the stairs down?” I offer.

  “Are you afraid to be alone with me?” he asks, as if he’s testing me.

  “No, I just thought it would be good to get some exercise.”

  “I have a better way you can burn some calories.” Nicholas grabs my elbow and ushers me inside the elevator before I have a chance to slip away. I step back into the corner, trying to put as much distance as I can between us. I need to make this situation work. I need this job.

  “I don’t think you want to climb down 30 flights of stairs just to avoid me,” he says, cutting through my thoughts. “Plus, you’re my assistant. We need to get used to each other if this is going to work.” I’m surprised he’s willing to try. I thought he was set on trying to make me leave.

  “And here I was thinking I might be getting the boot.” I glare at him as he half smiles to himself.

  “And who says you’re not?” He smirks. He has to be pulling my leg. My office was set up and everything.

  “I assumed… wait, are you serious? Why the hell would you have me come down here if I’m fired?” I blurt.

  “I thought you would want a second chance at getting your job back,” he says with a devilish grin. “How far are you willing to go to keep your job, Gellar?” He’s toying with me.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “I am, but I’m the asshole who owns you for the next six months,” he says flatly.

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” I say, pushing my finger into his perfectly ironed shirt. “No one owns me.”

  “You’re right. No one owns you. Just me,” he says, snatching my hand.

  “Fuck you,” I whisper, pulling my hand from his grasp.

  “Not today, Ms. Gellar. But soon. Very soon.” Nicholas steps closer, as if to kiss me. He lingers, hovering slightly over my lips, and for a moment, I think he just might do it. He steps back, breaking the strange, heated connection between us and walks out. What the hell?

  “And Gellar,” he says, poking his head back inside the elevator. “I hope you’re ready.” Ready? Ready for what?

  When Nicholas asked me if I was ready, I should’ve known he had something up his sleeve. My second day on the job was the beginning of my demise. The second I got to work, he sent me on an expedition to bring him a nonfat mocha latte from Joe’s Black Brew, a small mom and pop coffee house three miles from the office. The lines at the shop were incredibly long. It seemed to be the favorite spot for visiting tourists. To my surprise, when I returned Nicholas informed me that he had made a mistake and he actually wanted a whole milk mocha latte. He even said he tried to call me from his office phone, but I knew that was a lie. His intentions were deliberate. I could have easily gotten him the same drink at the Starbucks on the other side of the street, but I sucked it up and I went again. Each trip took about two hours, mostly because I kept getting lost. By the time I returned the second time, I was exhausted and ready to go home.

  The following day, Nicholas sent me to pick up his Great Dane named Otis. It didn’t exactly feel comfortable walking around the city with a giant horse dog, but I couldn’t really say no, could I? It wasn’t until I got back and spoke with Mary that she informed me that Nicholas didn’t have a dog. Apparently, he had paid a close friend of his to let him borrow the dog for the day. Thanks to my boss, I went home that day smelling like slobber and dog breath.

  The following week things seemed to calm down a little bit, but I guess that can be attributed to the fact that Nicholas had been called into several all-day meetings to discuss plans for the new fiscal year. It didn’t leave him much time to send me on crazy errands. I spent most of Monday replying to his e-mails. Manic Monday is an understatement. Try holy shit, I’m drowning in letters and I’ll never survive this apocalypse of mail Monday. I hate whoever was Nicholas’s last assistant. She left a mess. There’s unanswered letters requesting his presence from hundreds of different organizations. The most recent one is Lit For Kids. They’re honoring StoneHaven Publishing a week from now and they still need a revised biography and a photo of Nicholas for their program. I’m sure he can make time to go to this one.

  Nicholas has been on a campaign to get me to leave, but I’m not going anywhere. If he thinks he can just get me to quit by treating me like his own personal slave, he’s wrong. Lately, my days have consisted of everything from getting his coffee, cleaning bird shit off his window with a toothbrush, to cleaning the scuffs off his shoe collection. I do it all. I think in his head, he holds some twisted fantasy of having me on my knees. I’ve caught him watching me, and I don’t like it. Okay, that’s a lie.

  “Hey, you must be Rebecca.”

  I turn in my cubicle chair just in time to see Ken Phillips standing at the entrance of my cubicle. He stares down at me with his warm honey eyes framed by thick black glasses and a boyish grin.

  “Good morning, Ken,” I smile.

  “Oh, I’m surprised you recognize me.”

  “I saw pictures of you at Carol’s apartment.”

  It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says, shaking my hand.

  “Thank you for the recommendation. I don’t think I would be here if it wasn’t for you.”

  “I just forwarded your name,” he smiles shyly.

  “Well, thank you anyway.”

  “I’m sure they’re glad to have you.”

  “I’m glad to be here.” Except right now.

  Ken frowns at the heaping pile of work on my desk. “You look overwhelmed.” he says, pointing to my desk. “Are you finding everything all right?”

  “Oh no, it’s chaotic. I’m pretty sure today is my last day,” I say jokingly.

  Ken brushes the back of his neck as if he’s embarrassed. “I’m sorry, is there anything I can help you with?”

  “No, don’t worry. I’m just answering e-mails and trying to get some letters out. I’ll manage.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” he says with a grin. “When I heard you were hired as Nicholas’s assistant I was a little worried.”

  “Oh. Why?” Does he think I can’t handle t
he job?

  “He has a bad streak with his assistants,” he says.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not in danger of falling for Mr. StoneHaven.”

  “Just be careful, he can be very charming,” Ken says with a pained expression.

  I was anxious to meet Ken when I was first hired on. From everything Carol told me, he was amazing. I mean, he is amazing. He vouched for me without even meeting me, and within a week of submitting my resume I had my interview. If it weren’t for him I wouldn’t be here. It’s funny how similar Carol and Ken are in features. But where Carol is lively and outgoing. Ken seems much more calm and reserved. I guess you could say he’s your stereotypical bookworm. In a hot and nerdy sort of way.

  “I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that Nicholas is out of the office today until 5:00 p.m.,” Ken says, handing me a note from him. “I ran into him this morning on his way to one of his meetings and he asked me to give you this.”

  Pick up dry cleaning. Now.

  Xx, Nicholas

  A flush creeps up my cheeks. Perfect. Ken must think I’m sleeping with him already. Who just puts Xs on their notes? He purposely did this to embarrass me.

  “He didn’t even put where to get the dry cleaning. There are probably a million dry cleaners in this part of the city,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “Here,” Ken says, pulling open a filing cabinet next to my desk. “I’m pretty sure Wendy, his last assistant, kept a list of all of the places Nicholas asked her to go to. Ken retrieves a little black book from a folder and hands it to me.

  “Thank you again.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. He also wanted me to tell you that he’d like to meet with you in his office around 6:00 p.m.,” Ken says, as he makes his way out of my cubicle.

  Great. I’m supposed to leave the office at 5:00 p.m., but now he wants me to stay until six? Ugh.

  I knew it was coming, but I’ve been in self-denial about when exactly I would see Nicholas again. Technically, I’m supposed to be like white on rice with him, but it’s hard when he’s always in private meetings.