Page 4 of Bind Me, Sir

Natalie

Late. Again.

Lips pursed, I hurried down the hallway toward my employer’s office, the thick runner carpet hushing my sandals. I had stayed up late, pushing to finish up the latest project Lily had given me of organizing the upcoming dinner to raise funds for her non-profit foundation, but my drunken sister’s even later arrival had created enough drama to keep me staring at the dark ceiling into the early morning hours.

Lily appreciated my drive to please, but I doubted she would smile over my arriving late to her home three days in a row because of my hungover sister. If only she’d gotten her ass out of bed the first time I’d called—

“Oomph!”

I slammed into a hard wall of flesh, bouncing back—and onto my butt. Jerking my gaze upward, my mind blanked over the tall man I’d run into. Dirty blond hair, ruffled as though he’d just woken. Eyes, blue as the summer sky, scruff lined his square jaw…

He reached out his hand. “Apologies, love.”

British accent. Good. Lord. I gulped and he flashed a smile—double dimples, of course. Damn him.

Typical meet-cute with a gorgeous stranger, but I would never be so lucky as to have a fairy tale like in the cartoon movies I’d watched as a child. I took his hand anyway, tingles racing up my arm at his firm grip, easily pulling me to my feet. He squatted to retrieve the papers and folder I hadn’t even realized had flown from my grasp, and my fingers itched to smooth the slight wave from his hair.

He stood once more, his quick glance over the frumpy sundress that hid my too-much curves heating me clear through to my toes—and doubtless flushing me from chest to hair line.

“Your papers,” he said, his low voice, that accent swooning my insides to pure goo.

“Thank you,” I managed to whisper.

“You are?”

I gulped again, trying to focus on shuffling my papers together into some semblance of order rather than consider the luscious scent of his body wash or cologne filling my nose. “Natalie,” I said. “Perez,” I remembered to add. “I’m Mrs. Laurent’s personal assistant.”

“You seem to be in quite a hurry.”

“I’m late.” I glanced beyond his body toward the office door I should have slipped through fifteen minutes ago.

“You needn’t worry.”

I jerked my focus back to his smiling eyes and cursed the warmth and wetness settling between my thighs.

“I expect Mrs. Laurent isn’t yet in her office.”

One of my eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“Late night,” he murmured, leaning down a bit toward me as though revealing a secret. The lingering twinkle in his eyes solidified that idea in my head. He gathered my hand and raised it to his lips, the mere brush of their soft cushion over my knuckles threatening to buckle my knees. “A pleasure, love.”

I stared, gaping, as he moved past me and strode down the hallway as though he owned the Laurent home and everything inside—myself included.

Oh, Lord. My face flamed, and I jerked my head back around, scurrying once more—but on shaking legs—for Lily’s office. As Mr. Gorgeous Model-Man had stated, my boss hadn’t yet arrived for the day.

My hands shook as I spread out the work I’d done the night before, arranging the papers across Lily’s desk. I’d only been under her employ for a mere six months, and I’d been lucky as hell to land the position.

The Laurents had more money than God himself and had offered me a salary well above my worth. I’d argued weakly, but Lily had shut me down, insisting she would work me to the bone—and also insisted I use her given name.

While we’d become somewhat close, and I’d told her all about my having to care for my younger sister after the death of our parents, I tried not to burden her with my problems at home. Luna was seven years my junior, and although she’d recently turned eighteen and graduated from high school, I sometimes felt as though I was dealing with a thirteen-year-old, one hell-bent on sassing her way right into the next bout of trouble.

She had an endless list of such, going so far as to have a few run-ins with the local police. Being underage had gotten her off from penalties more often than not—but twice they threatened to remove her from my care.

No amount of my pleading, no amount of my telling her about good choices and her future, made any impact.

At eighteen, I expected it wouldn’t be long before Luna found herself in the type of circumstances that would lead to time behind bars. Sneaking out to party with friends and random older men hadn’t been the best path for her life to that point—and I knew it wouldn’t lead to the future our mother had hoped for either of us.

Mom begging me with her last breath to look after my younger sister had been a request I couldn’t deny. I would do as she asked until I breathed my last.

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