Bound to You (7 page)

Poor Xavier had no idea what I was saying, but he kept smiling—like I wanted him to do.

Right behind us, Nakamura waited, but he heard every word.

Watanabe nodded. Then he turned to his assistant, who extended a card.
Bingo!
I took it with both hands and a bowed head.

“Mr. Nakamura.” Xavier nodded his way.

I cringed on the inside, my plan for an offhand introduction crumbling after Nakamura heard us talking to Watanabe.

Nakamura simply nodded and Watanabe turned to him. Our opportunity to have Watanabe casually introduce Xavier to him vanished. Damn.

Now we had no choice but to say our thanks and head up the stairs to the theater.

I sighed. Being disappointed would get in the way of coming up with a new plan. I had the whole evening to figure something out.

We went up a well-lit stairwell to Xavier's private box. I tried to focus on going up each step, but instead my mind wandered and I kept thinking about the man behind me. Could he see the way the dress fit my curves or the way my hips began to sway as if they had a mind of their own?

By the time we reached the box and slipped into the red velvet seats, my whole body hummed. Ignoring the feeling was futile, even with my face forward and my gaze set on the stage. There were plenty of sights to drink in, from the ornate painted ceiling with intricate cherub carvings to the beautiful crystal chandeliers hung along the walls.

The massive room dimmed and murmurs from the crowd floated up to us. The performance would begin soon and give me the distraction I wanted.

A waiter arrived with more champagne, but I didn't look over my shoulder. Finally, Xavier spoke to me.

“Would you like some champagne?” he whispered. His breath was warm on my neck. I didn't dare turn toward him. My imagination churned out vivid images I couldn't push away: His lips trailing across my neck. His hand pressed against my thigh.

Xavier handed me the glass and I gratefully downed the drink to sate my parched throat.

His left arm was close enough to warm my right side and all I could do to keep myself in check was keep my hands in my lap. Even intertwining my fingers didn't settle my senses.

The orchestra's music began, the horns softly playing as the first act of
Pelléas et Mélisande
started.

“Have you seen this piece before?” he asked.

His words broke through to me. I dared a quick peek and his dark, mesmerizing stare forced my lips to part and made my throat dry.

“Yes. A year ago,” I managed.

“Damn it, Miss Ashton,” he breathed. The side of his mouth turned slightly with a devilish grin. “You need to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” My gaze flicked to the man and woman singing on the stage. Her melodic voice further softened my already molten insides.

“Like you're begging me to touch you.”

Was it that obvious?
He had yet to touch me again and I
was
close to begging. Even with the guilt of what I wanted nipping at me. Were my eyes betraying what my body felt? My body for damn sure didn't care that he was a client and not a man who had similar interests to mine.

Instead of waiting for a response from me, his left hand drifted to rest on his knee. His fingers flexed, the movement wonderfully hypnotic.

Would one touch ruin everything?

We sat like that for some time, sipping the champagne through the first two acts. Then the third act began with Mélisande sitting at a tower window singing as she combed her long hair. Pelléas looked at her longingly and I wanted to look away. As hard as I tried to ignore Xavier, his hand still rested on his knee, ever so close to mine.

His head drifted toward me, yet he didn't touch me. “It's amazing how Debussy showed how much Pelléas longed for Mélisande. Even though she could never be his.”

My heart sped up and the truth hit me hard.

She could never be his.

He continued, “As a woman married to his brother, she haunted him in a way, her very presence bringing out a side of him he thought he could contain.” Finally, he brushed the back of his hand against my knee. I sucked in a breath. Next came a firm squeeze along my mid-thigh.
Pure. Bliss.
Just one touch had me trembling. “Passion. Longing.”

I tried to watch the play, but my gaze kept drifting to my clenched hands in my lap. The large hand on my thigh. Waiting was something I did so well, so why was my resolve crumbling so quickly?

Then his hand wandered up my thigh, dipping briefly near my sex, until he gripped my left wrist. The need to respond to him was intense. But the very idea of giving in made me freeze. Only once did I dare to look at him—he continued to watch the show intently—while my breath quickened. His thumb circled my palm. Sparks danced along my skin from his slow, yet deliberate touch.

I closed my eyes and told myself to tell him to let go of my hand.

Don't do this again, Soph.

But there was no escaping him and I let it happen. He was closer now, his breath warming my cheek. “I'm going to kiss you, Sophie,” he declared firmly.

But instead of kissing my lips, he drew me onto his lap. The fullness of my dress didn't deter him. The music continued to play. He kissed the place where my wrist began. Right above my pulse point. Like a leopard sampling his prey, he ran his lips, then his tongue over the most sensitive parts of the skin along my hand.

All the while, he whispered to me, his voice thick. “I control myself in all things, Miss Ashton.” The grip on my wrist tightened until I hissed.
So good.
Damn him.

“But your beautiful eyes make me want to do things to you that I shouldn't…” Watching him do this to me was one of the hottest things I'd ever seen in my life. “Things that I told myself I wouldn't do with an employee.”

I was breathless by the time he looked at me again. Our lips were mere inches apart. I could practically taste the alcohol he'd sampled. Settled in his lap with my head tilted toward his, our bodies were too close to prevent the inevitable from happening. He captured my lips and I unclenched my fists. My reservations floated away along with the tension in my limbs.

In contrast to Mélisande softly singing, every part of Xavier was hard. His body unyielding, his lips firm and hungry against mine. His tongue darted into my mouth and I moaned. I sagged against him, opening my lips further to invite more. Our tongues danced, dueling until he pulled back with a violent tremble.

He was as breathless as I was. The subtle upward thrust of his hips made my thighs clench with need. “There are so many things I could do to you…” He drew in a deep breath.

“Like what?” I tried to rise from his lap, but his arms locked around me.

My protest waited on my lips, but I couldn't bring myself to speak. While the final act played, he couldn't see a thing. His lips rested against my cheek. Long enough for me to memorize their shape. For the stubble along his chin to tickle me.

Again and again I told myself to get up, that I was letting myself fall into a game that would leave me wounded. But Sato had never treated me like this. Not in public, anyway. Sato's passions played out in private, away from the prying eyes of others.

By the time the final fifth act ended, I resigned myself to getting up. As easy as that idea came, once the lights turned back on, the stark reality of what had happened made it hard for me to look at him. This was my employer and I was sitting in his lap. The assistant who let her boss kiss her hand like a lover.

I tried to stand and he let me do so.

“Did you enjoy the piece?” I held in a sigh. What else could I say?
Let's go out for drinks.
Or even,
What plans do you really have for me other than seduction?
But I knew my place and after hearing him say he didn't want a relationship, at the rate I was going I'd still end up in his bed. When it was time for him to leave, I'd be alone again.

“The performers are very talented. Your company made the piece all the more pleasurable. Of course.”

“Of course.” What else could I say? I clasped my hands together to keep myself in check. His darkened gaze never wavered.

“We should join the others for refreshments.”

He slowly stood and I couldn't keep myself from taking in his long, lean legs. The need to look between his legs to see what had pressed against me flicked at my mind, but I kept my gaze where it needed to be.

The loud crowd was welcome once we descended the stairs from the theater, but I couldn't go far without following him. His scent was all over me and I couldn't stop thinking about his lips. Every time he spoke to someone my gaze drifted to them. Every time he shook someone's hand I imagined his hand touching me.

By the time we reached the lobby, I had managed to bring Sophie back into play. This was where I thrived. Meeting new people and making new connections. I was talking with the vice president of a major bank in the northeast when Xavier leaned toward my ear.

“I see an associate of mine. I'll be back in a bit.” I quickly nodded, welcoming a bit of space between us. It would be far too easy for me to want to follow him, to continue to feel his hand on my back, but this was for the best.

After chatting with the vice president about how I could help his wife plan a golfing trip for her and her friends, I continued to stroll around and introduce myself to new people.

But then I stopped cold to see a familiar feminine back. She was short and shapely with the most beautiful black hair. I'd seen her a few times two years ago and she always wore the same designer perfume.

My heart skittered.

Don't look, Sophie. Maybe if you don't look, she won't really be there.

I prayed Komiko Haruto wouldn't turn around.

But it was too late. The two women accompanying her saw me and whispered in my direction.

Komiko turned around and a kind smile touched her lips. For a woman who had to be no less than fifty, she had a girlish grace and a mischievous glint to her dark brown eyes that made her look no older than thirty-five.

“Sophie
-san,
is that you, dear?” she called to me in Japanese.

My insides turned to ice. What was she doing here? Was the rest of Sato's immediate family in town? He couldn't be here. In the two years since he'd left me behind, he had yet to set foot on American soil.

Back when I dated Sato, I only met his relatives twice during family gatherings. The Harutos had lavish affairs, but I always felt like an outsider—which was one of the many reasons why I learned Japanese. It was all too often I felt there was a barrier between Sato and me. He spoke English fluently, but his family didn't. Learning his mother tongue seemed like the best way to scale the divide between his world and mine.

Oh, what a fool I was back then.

Once I'd learned Japanese, I was invited to spend time with Komiko, and she took me under her wing, so to speak. I had appreciated having someone to practice with, but once Sato left me, my association with Komiko vanished, too.

Resolve left me and circled the room before I moved. With a curt bow, I greeted her and the other ladies. “It's a pleasure to see you, Komiko
-san
,” I began. If there was hesitation in my voice, she didn't react.

Komiko introduced me to her friends and immediately went into small talk. “One of my nieces—I'm sure you remember Aoki—is getting married this week.” She was all smiles. “The lucky couple wanted to celebrate with their fellow classmates at Harvard.”

I nodded in agreement. “Sounds wonderful. You'll have to send me her contact information so I may congratulate her properly.”

One of Komiko's friends chuckled. “Why would you send a gift?”

Somehow I kept my hands from forming fists. There wasn't a reason other than being nice to a former acquaintance. I had no ties to the Haruto family any longer.

“Of course she'd send a gift,” Komiko said. “Sophie-
san
is a
friend
of the family.” The others nodded as if Sato's aunt had given her final word and discussion wasn't necessary.

Embarrassment warmed my cheeks. Based on past experiences, I surmised that Komiko meant no ill will. She stated the facts and that made the ache I'd suppressed for so long flare like an unhealed wound.

I glanced up to see Xavier had joined us. Out of all the times for him to return, why did it have to be now?

“Is this your date?” Komiko asked. The two other women eyed him with appreciation.

“This is a business associate of mine.” I made formal introductions of everyone. Xavier bowed properly, mimicking my movements from earlier. He even tried to return the greeting in Japanese. He stumbled a bit, but he wasn't short on confidence.

Now that everyone knew one another, Komiko's friends said their goodbyes and drifted away, engrossed in their own conversation about what they planned to do once they returned to Japan. Komiko turned to face me. A flicker of pity crossed her face. “I won't be in town long, but we should have tea if our paths should cross again.”

“I'd like that,” I said, knowing very well the tea would never happen.

We parted ways and I was alone with Xavier. Silence lingered between us, but willing my mouth to move was impossible. Shame pressed me to the floor.

“Are you ready to leave?” he finally asked me.

Could he read the tension in my shoulders? The doubt circling in my stomach?

“For drinks, perhaps?” he added.

I nodded. “Yes, to leave, but I'd like a rain check on those drinks.”

“Another time then.”

When he pressed his hand against my back I flinched, so he withdrew. My mood had soured considerably, and meeting Komiko was a sound reminder I shouldn't again place myself in a position to fall for a man who didn't truly want me.