Bound to You (18 page)

I offered her a wide grin. “It's cool. The people I grew up with are my family and they're great.” I smiled thinking of Griff, Carlie, and Penny. Naturally, I wondered if we'd still keep in contact if I moved to London. I pushed those thoughts away. I was with Xavier right now and I should enjoy the moment.

Becca glanced at her mother-in-law. “I've wanted to put her in her place for the last fifteen years. How did you manage to do it on the first night?”

I hadn't put her in her place by a
long
shot in my opinion. “You'd be surprised what you're capable of doing after you've been asked to serve the moon on a plate the size of a silver thimble.”

We began to walk for a bit and she showed me around the family pictures. Marcus and his brother were adorable as little kids. I even found out Xavier liked to run around naked when he was a toddler. Hope filled my chest, leaving me smiling like a fool. All these pictures gave me something I wanted to hold onto dearly: maybe I'd have a family like this someday. Don't get me wrong, I did have Carlie, Penny, and Griff, but I didn't want to be single forever. Someday I wanted a kid or two. Maybe find a nice place to settle down near a beach. I'd done so much traveling in my life, and I couldn't keep this lifestyle forever.

I turned to see Mrs. Quinn standing on the other side of the room chatting with one of Xavier's aunts. When she saw me looking, the smile on her face faded and a cold visage marred her beautiful features. With that one look, the airy feeling in my heart was sucked away.

Welcome to Phoenix, Sophie.

The trip into downtown Phoenix was a somber one. At this time of the night, the skyscrapers cast a glow on the evening sky. The beautiful sight outside was difficult to enjoy with the tension blanketing my body.

During the whole time, I faced the window, my body turned away from Sophie.

She probably wondered if she'd done something wrong. Maybe she assumed my mother was the cause—which wasn't too off base most of the time. Every now and then, Sophie furtively glanced in my direction, but most of the time, she took in the view out the window. If I was polite I should've asked her what she thought of Phoenix. I should've welcomed her here.

Instead I kept bunching my fists and fought the need to wipe the sweat gathering on my palms. My stomach quivered. Thoughts circled my mind up to the point when Chris entered my building's private parking garage.
What the hell am I doing bringing another woman into the space I made for Rosalie?

Rosalie's gone,
I immediately reminded myself as we came to a stop.

But her absence didn't change what was about to happen.

Sophie got out of the car first, turning to me with a grin. “Is this whole building yours?”

“Yes.”

“Looks nice.”

“Thank you.” I was up to two words now. I was making progress.

I led her from the parking garage to a private elevator. The gilded steel doors beckoned us, opening up with my key card.

“This is amazing!” Her gaze swept over the expansive elevator cab with its stainless steel bars and clear glass on the floor.

The clear glass is a dare,
Rosalie had said when we rode in the elevator for the first time six years ago. “When boundaries like this are removed, you're forced to face your mortality.”

On that particular day, as we rose to the second floor, she had stopped the elevator. With a coy smile, Rosalie descended to her knees and opened my pants to free my cock. I took in her beautiful face as she pleasured me to completion.

Today, I didn't dare look down.

“What kind of floor is this?” Sophie gasped.

“Plexiglas.”

She pressed herself against me and focused on my face, a giggle escaping her mouth. “Wow. How do you go up and down this thing without looking down?”

“Gotten used to it, I guess.”

Not every part of this building had Rosalie's personal touch. The first five floors included office space for the smaller companies Silver Sparrow Systems had acquired over the years, as well as boutiques on the ground floor. But coming back here stirred memories I'd pushed away for a long time.

We reached the penthouse, and once the doors opened, I led her inside.

Everything was as I'd left my home more than a month ago. Not a single thing out of place in the open-concept penthouse. But each spot held memories, from the study to the kitchen. We'd eaten breakfast and argued politics in the mornings next to the windows overlooking the mountains. Her favorite spot in the room was the alcove next to my book collection.

Once she was diagnosed with giant cell myocarditis, everything changed. She grew too tired to do anything. The couch where we used to sit side by side with our laptops became the place where she slept. The bed where we played out scene after scene became the place I held her, hoping her heart would continue to beat until a donor heart became available.

Countless specialists, the best that money could buy, kept warning me that due to her enlarged heart she could die at any moment, but when she suddenly passed away I wasn't ready.

I was one of the richest men in the world, yet I couldn't even save a woman who didn't love me as deeply as I loved her.

This home had too many painful memories, but taking Sophie to a hotel was out of the question, and a man like me never backs down from a challenge. It was time for me to face this issue head on.

“Take a look around,” I said to Sophie. “Make yourself at home.”

If Xavier's place in Back Bay had left me floored, this one left me breathless.

“This is so beautiful.” My gaze swept over the gray-tiled walls to the burnt orange drapes along the tall, yet narrow, windows. This wasn't a bachelor's home. This was a showcase in craftsmanship with exquisite detail. So many leatherbound books filled custom bookcases. And the artwork! When Xavier said he enjoyed Klimt, that had only been a hint as to his affinity for the arts. I spied four paintings in the living room alone. I couldn't identify them, but their quality boasted his wealth.

Instead of walking around, I reached out to touch the leather chairs. I'd never seen such a style before. A stripe of black leather ran from the top of the seat down the middle. Smooth gray cotton on the rest of the seat added a softness to the hard edge of the leather.

“Those were custom made in Switzerland,” he said from behind me.

I snorted at his casual comment. “Custom furniture from Europe?” I guess I did that all the time with my IKEA stuff.

The whole vibe seemed modern to me, yet sleek.

“How long did it take for you to decorate this place?” I asked.

“A year and a half.”

“Where did you live before then?”

“For the longest time I stayed in my first condo. Before I made it big with Silver Sparrow I lived in a two-bedroom condo near campus. With not the tidiest of neighbors, I might add.”

“The joys of college campus living.” I weaved around his furniture, a glint of light catching my eye. “Now this is different.” I picked up a heavy, gorgeous crown made out of metal. Intricate etchings swirled along the outside.

“Be careful.” Xavier reached in to take it from me, but not before I caught the engraved text chiseled in small letters on the inside.

EVERY KING DESERVES A CROWN. I BOW BEFORE YOU. FROM ROSALIE.

Now that was unusual. “I wasn't going to break it,” I said softly.

His serious expression faded quickly.

“It's rather fragile.”

A metal crown was fragile? That polished metal had to be titanium. This was a new one. I opened my mouth to ask who Rosalie was, but he took my hand and led me into the kitchen.

A kitchen twice the size of my bedroom. We passed two professional-style stoves on the way to the stainless steel fridge.

“You hungry?” he asked. “Ian had the fridge stocked up with the good stuff.”

“Not really. Like you said, your aunt is a really good cook.”

I watched with curiosity as he gathered together vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, sour cream, strawberries, and a small bottle of brandy.

“What are you making?” I asked.

“You'll see.” He tapped the granite countertop. “Have a seat.”

While he mixed together the ice cream, whipped cream, and sour cream, I checked my text messages, only to learn Jesse had a few issues for me to handle. Another day, another diva. By the time I glanced up, Xavier had two glasses of sliced strawberries prepared. He poured the cream mixture on top of the strawberries. I couldn't wait to sample what he prepared for us.

Instead of handing me a glass though, he took a spoon from a drawer, and scooped out a portion. The slight curve to the side of his mouth spoke volumes of his naughty intentions.

“I can't have my own?” I asked. My phone buzzed with a message, but I ignored it.

“No Strawberries Romanoff for you yet.” He edged between my legs, his left hand traveling up my thigh while his right hand brought the serving toward my mouth. I opened wide—only to have him smear the cream along my jaw.

“Hey—” I swallowed my protest when his mouth sucked away the food, leaving sparks along the sensitive skin on my neck. Over and over he teased me with a taste, only to leave a bit of cream here and there. By the fifth time, I managed to steal a bite.

He stole a kiss instead.

That single long kiss wasn't heated or frenzied like in the past. It was slow and measured. His lips gliding over mine. Our kiss grew heated and I couldn't help but drown in the sensations I experienced: the sweetness of the Strawberries Romanoff I'd sampled, the saltiness of his skin on my tongue, and the tingles along my spine. His free hand holding the crown of my head to keep me in place while he swallowed my soul whole.

I liked this relaxed Xavier Quinn.

He ran his hand down my leg. I quivered from his touch. “I want you to stay with me,” he whispered.

I flinched. Stopping myself wasn't possible.

“Just hear me out, Sophie. I'll set up your business on the West Coast. You'll have your own office space, everything.” He kissed my shoulder and my skin sang from the attention.

How I wanted to give in to the fantasy. My own corner office. Staff to help me manage unruly clients. But reality hovered and pecked at me. What about my friends in Boston? All my business connections wouldn't be as valuable. Distance was a factor when dealing with people who liked seeing your face.

I'd be starting from scratch.

You'd be starting from scratch if you moved to London,
I reminded myself.

A cold chill coursed down my back. The very idea of having nothing scared the hell out of me.

If I went to London, I'd have Carlie and all her clients, but I wouldn't have him anymore.

His words pierced me, but I forced them to go in one ear and out the other. I had to. This weekend wasn't a promise but a chance for me to think things through.

“I need time,” I finally said.

He nodded and fed me another bite. I wouldn't be deterred from helping Carlie, no matter how much my heart wanted me to stay. Loving him was far too easy a thing to do.

When he reached back to get another scoop, I snatched the spoon from his hand. “My turn.”

But he wasn't going down without a fight. We laughed, giggled, and snorted, our arms flying madly about to control the spoon. He tried to hide it behind his back so I dove into the curve of his neck and planted a healthy hickey there.

“No fair. You play dirty,” he grunted.

Right next to us my phone vibrated on the counter and he froze. “I thought we discussed how I don't like to share,” he teased.

“It's not a client, it's Jesse. He's having trouble and I'm his knight in shiny armor.”

“And he's having trouble with your
clients
.” He backed away from me, a good-natured grin on his face and Strawberries Romanoff smeared all over his nice clothes.

Somehow, I'd managed to escape with food only on my hands and face.

“You're a mess.” I swiped a bit of cream off his jacket and placed it in my mouth.

“Care to clean me up?” He leaned in to kiss the cream off my lips.

“As tempting as the offer sounds, I need to talk to Jesse in a bit. We have a troublesome client to handle.”

“I see.” He began to unbutton his shirt and I had to look away when he revealed the hard muscles underneath. “Are you sure?”

I turned around. “Go change,
Mr. Quinn
!”

He kissed the side of my neck. “I rather like it when you call me that. You'll have to do that more often when we're alone.”

Xavier disappeared around a corner. The moment he was gone I tackled the phone call with Jesse. Apparently, a premier regatta was coming up in Boston and a client wanted to have a ladies' weekend on the bay during the boat races. Arrangements needed to be made and I had to move the sun and moon. Poor Jesse. Most of it he could do, but he needed me to make a few key phone calls. Pull a string or two.

Compared to cleaning up the mess on Xavier's shirt, a call or two was easy.

After I made the calls, I cleaned up. Even if he had a maid, I refused to be seen by his staff as untidy. A girl like me had an image to maintain.

When I finished cleaning, I was still alone.

I drifted back to the sitting room. Immediately the crown caught my eye. I should've asked him who Rosalie was. None of the relatives at the compound had that name, but that didn't mean she might not be one.

And yet, the words etched on the crown wouldn't have come from an aunt or a cousin. The very meaning seemed intimate.

Instead of sitting and letting the crown bother me, I explored the rooms down the hall Xavier had disappeared into. The penthouse was silent, except for the faint sounds from my heels clicking on the mahogany hardwood floor. I took them off and left them along the wall.

The place seemed like a tomb. Far too quiet and lonely. After having noisy roommates for all these years, the very idea of living like this seemed unthinkable. I passed two locked doors before I came to a doorway that was cracked open.

Once inside, I could only see the shadows from what little light the moon leaked into the room. Unlike so many other rooms in the house, this one had shiny, bright disks all over the walls. The mystery of the disks was solved when I finally found the light switch. Countless medals, ribbons in cases covered the walls in another smaller study. Only a dark wooden desk and chair sat in the middle, but the walls were covered with countless things.
FIRST PLACE, HURDLES, MCCOY HIGH SCHOOL.
Another one read
FIRST PLACE, 400-METER HURDLES, BLUE RIDGE HIGH INVITATIONAL.
So many others.

“Xavier Quinn, you've been holding back on me,” I said with a small laugh. “You used to run track,” I said with awe.

“Yeah, I had a personal coach who trained Olympic athletes and everything.”

I turned around sharply to see him with wet hair. Sweatpants slung low on his narrow hips and a towel was draped over his shoulders.

Instead of letting him distract me, I continued to scan the wall. The dates kept going until ten years ago. Then everything came to a halt.

“These are amazing. How come you don't have any from college?” I asked.

“I didn't win any.” He was following me. Hovering close enough to stir the butterflies dancing in my stomach.

“Is the scar on your knee from running?” All this time I'd been curious about the scar, but he'd seemed pretty tight-lipped about it after I'd asked.

Xavier sighed. “Yeah. Happened in college. It was one of my first meets of the year and I was running the eight hundred–meter. There were a bunch of guys from the rival team who wanted to mess me up, so they crowded me in during the first lap. Naturally, I tripped—”

“Ouch.”

“But that wasn't the end of the story. I got back up.”

We shared a smile. “I bet you caught up and won the whole thing,” I said.

“Exactly.”

Things grew quiet. He reached out and touched his knee. Countless times I'd run my hand down his legs, over his thighs. I'd brushed against the straight scar.

“During my fall, my right leg came down hard. I overextended my knee and partially tore every ligament you can imagine.” He shrugged as if it was nothing, but I couldn't imagine what it would be like to train so hard, only to have to later focus on something else. “I recovered, but after that, no more scholarships. No more early-morning practice.”

While Xavier looked over one of his cases, his mind falling into the past, I noticed a lone image sitting in a frame on a desk. The frame was quite tiny, but the woman in the picture shined. Long blond hair framed a stunning heart-shaped face. Her head was slightly turned as if she had been caught by surprise. Xavier sat beside her and he wasn't looking at the camera. His loving gaze rested on the woman beside him.

“Who's this?” I asked. “She's beautiful.”

Xavier strolled over to me. “That's Rosalie.”

“So she's the one who gave you the crown.”

He only nodded, not glancing at me once. “Yeah, she's an old friend.”

I swallowed the rude noise I wanted to make. “
An old friend?
Do you mean an old girlfriend?”

“Not anymore. She…passed away five years ago.”

Heat filled my face. “I'm so sorry—”

“You didn't know. It's not a big deal.”

But it was a big deal. No man kept an old girlfriend's custom gift or her picture unless he cared for her deeply. I felt so foolish. What his mother said earlier this evening during dinner echoed through my mind: “My son never brings his
women
here. The last time he did, a few years ago, he thought it was funny to bring one of his
playthings
.”

No wonder he was so angry. He had loved Rosalie.

Maybe he still did.

Xavier walked to the doorway. He flicked off the light while I was still inside. “Are you coming?”

I left the room and its dark memories behind.