Page 12 of Bound to Him
I closed the door and glanced at the man in front of me; he couldn’t be more than nineteen. He’d pulled his dark hair to the back of his head and had blue eyes that reminded me of the sparkling water in the pool outside. He wore all white, like I expected from a chef, and had a sharp knife in his hand, pointed at me.
“You’ve chosen thewronghouse to break into, buddy.” He waved the knife at me. “Leave now and I won’t get my boss. He’ll make hamburger meat out of you.”
“Is he Hannibal Lecter?” I asked, forcing away the smile that threatened to spread across my mouth. This chef was adorable, in a puppy kind of way. If this was a manhwa, a Korean comic style I enjoyed reading, I imagined he’d have floppy animal ears on top of his head and a tail tucked between his legs.
“I’m serious,” the man spat, brows furrowing into aV. “Leave now or you’ll regret it. You’ll never see a day outside of a prison cell for the rest of your life.”
“That sounds nice.” I turned fully toward him and smiled. “I’m Noah.”
“I don’t care who you are.” He took a step closer, and I noticed old burn scars on his hands, which made sense if he was a chef. “You can’t sneak into this house and try to rob us.”
“Of food?” I asked. “Do you have many thieves breaking into this place for food?”
He pointed the knife at me, closer to my neck, and glared. “This isn’t a joke.Leave.”
Antoine strode into the kitchen, pausing when he saw us. And what a sight we probably made. I was kind of jealous it wasn’t me walking into something like this.
He frowned, his thin eyebrows diving. Running his palm down his fancy suit, he stepped closer to us, mouth pulled tightly. “Tucker, why do you have a knife pointed at the boss’s new fiancé?”
The man in front of me—Tucker, apparently—dropped the knife to the floor and it clattered over the tiles. His eyes widened and his gaze shot from Antoine to me and back again, mouth dropping open. “Fiancé? I had no idea.” He rushed forward and touched my upper arms, gripping them. “I’m so sorry, sir. Are you okay?”
I wasn’t focused on him, though. I glared at Antoine. “I’m not his fiancé. I might belong to him for six months, but that’s all.”
Antoine’s mouth twisted, caught between a scowl and a smirk as he stepped closer, his shiny black shoes clacking on the spotless floor. He clasped his hands in front of himself. “That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Divine. Did you not read the contract? You and Mr. Bouchard will be married for six months, and at the end of those terms you can choose to stay married or get a divorce.”
My blood turned to ice, coldness seeping deep into my core. “You’re wrong.”
He blinked at me. “You didn’t read the contract, did you?”
I’d tried, but everything was happening so fast. Mom had insisted on me signing it. What else had it said? Fear slithered through me and I shot past Antoine and out of the kitchen. No one followed me as I raced up the stairs and toward where I’d heard Alton’s voice coming from earlier. I shoved open the door and tripped over the threshold into his office.
He was sitting behind his desk, speaking softly in an Asian language I didn’t understand—maybe Cantonese—and paused when he saw me. His eyes narrowed, and after saying something else, he ended the call on his computer.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he stood, releasing one of the buttons on his gray suit jacket so it fell open. His hair was still damp from the pool. One of his servants must have brought his clothing in here for him to change, otherwise there was no way he could have dressed so fast. I wasn’t sure why the efficiency of his staff unsettled me, but it did. The entire world and everyone in it seemed to only exist to serve his whims. His height was intimidating, even from across the room, and my breath caught in my throat. “I asked you a question. I was in a meeting, Noah.”
“Are we getting married?” I snapped, stepping forward. My feet ate up the room until I was right in front of him, anger making my face hot. “Did you have it in the contract that we’d get married?”
His lips twisted into a smirk and a sick feeling swirled in my gut. “Yes. You’re my fiancé.”
“No, I’mnot.” I went to step back again, but he grabbed my arms, forcing me to stay there. No matter how much I struggled I couldn’t get free, and I was stuck staring into the deep depths of his brown eyes. I was caught between feeling excited and scared, a conundrum that had my heart racing. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“I disagree.” His grip on me tightened. “You signed the contract and marriage was part of it.”
I shook my head furiously. “No, I didn’t read the whole contract.”
“Whose fault is that?” His smirk had my blood turning to lava as fury stole my breath. “That’s your first lesson about business, Noah,alwaysread the entire contract, even if you trust someone. It’s easy to be manipulated.”
“Fine. Lesson learned,” I snapped, struggling against his hold again, to no avail. “But we’re not getting married.”
“We are.” He pushed me until my back hit a wall and something beside my head shuddered under the force of how hard I knocked against it. He pressed in until I was trapped with nowhere to go. “The wedding is tomorrow and everyone is invited. Your family, my business partners, and yourfriends.”
“No,” I whispered, and my body burned hot as I gasped and strained to break free, and he only shook his head and smirked at my efforts.
“Yes. Including a punk named Christian. Do you know him?” His expression turned mean, and for the first time I was truly scared of him.
“He’s not a friend. He’s—”
“Your lover. I know.” He moved in closer until his lips hovered above mine. He touched my abs and then his fingers were on my swim briefs, shoving them down until they were at my knees and his hand was on my dick again.
