Page 8 of Bind Me, Sir

“A small enterprise,” I said, “but it doesn’t matter the number of customers. Their personal information is now in the hands of who the fuck knows.”

“Nothing to be done about it now but push to protect his future.”

“If his company can survive this,” I told Adam.

We discussed Mr. Scorzelli’s problem a bit longer, but moved onto the merger ahead of us—the real reason for our weekend retreat. Another Boston-based IT security company faced bankruptcy due to poor management, and buying them out continued their clients’ protection—and held potential to line our pockets.

Not that the three of us had need for more. As a workaholic, for me it was the thrill of continued success. The accomplishment for Adam to show up his father who had disinherited him is what drove him. Garret? I wasn’t quite sure. The man loved to spend money on the ladies, and didn’t much care about the broken hearts littering his past.

With both parents being big shots in Hollywood—one director, one actress—he, too, had grown up in the spotlight, under the public’s microscopic eye. While he’d come through unfazed, his younger sister struggled, spending more time in rehabs than out.

“Gonna hit the gym downstairs,” Adam said, finally getting to his feet. Garret moved to follow.

“I think I’ll take a few laps in the pool,” I said as Mrs. Hummel came through to clear our plates.

“Thanks again, Tillie girl,” Garret said, grabbing her and kissing her cheek once more.

Her giggles followed me out the door.

I sliced through the cool water, my steady strokes taking me from one end of the Olympic pool to the other in languid fashion. Swimming always helped me to work through problems in my head, helped me to focus while my body mindlessly burned calories.

Natalie had stunned me with her natural beauty, her sweet spirit I’d only briefly seen. She intrigued the hell out of me to the point I considered pursuing her—but just for the weekend. Regardless of a woman’s draw, I wouldn’t be sucked down the rabbit hole—again—that had led to my being jaded.

Movement beyond the wrought iron fence around the pool area drew my focus long enough to recognize the long dark hair and curves of the woman haunting my thoughts. She walked the pebbled path of the rose garden, focused on her cell.

I held silent and still at the pool’s edge, enjoying her meandering, her swaying hips that I would love to see indented from my ropes. My cock took interest as well, swelling regardless of the cold water. Once she passed from sight, I returned to my laps until my length once more shriveled in my swimsuit.

The hairs on my neck stood on end but I continued my steady strokes, taking glances while turning my face for air.

Natalie stood beside one of the porch’s pillars—and had her cell aimed at me.

Anger flared, tightening my stomach, and I finished my lap and pulled myself out of the water.

She’d disappeared, but I stalked toward where I’d seen her, brow furrowed over the fact she thought to take pictures of me for the highest bidder. Tabloids paid good money for pictures of me in nothing more than a skimpy swimsuit.

She stood beside the backdoor, once more engrossed on her cell’s screen.

I approached on light feet as water dripped off my body. A scream ripped from her as I grabbed the phone from her unsuspecting hands.

As I’d expected, she’d taken a few snapshots of me, and I quickly scrolled through them with a wet finger, my brow furrowing further at finding my suspicions correct.

“Give that back,” she squeaked.

I ignored her and came to the final picture, one clearly revealing my face. I glanced up to find her cheeks infused with red.

“I don’t take kindly to strangers taking my picture without my consent.” I stood straighter and moved into her personal space, pissed off, yet turned on by the sweet, flowery scent of her perfume and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

“I-I’m sorry,” she sputtered. “I didn’t intend any harm—”

“No. You just intended to make a few bucks.”

“What?”

“The tabloids love this shit—don’t tell me you didn’t plan on selling them to the highest bidder.”

She blinked, but her eyebrows pulled downward. “What? Why would I do that?”

“I’m Jordan Graystone. Don’t pretend you didn’t know.” I handed her the cell, and she wet her lower lip with the tip of her tongue.

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