Bound by Deception

Chapter3

Chapter 3

- Emma -

The bus had taken me to a city three hours away. I'd spent two nights sleeping in a 24-hour laundromat, washing my only dress in the sink and pretending to wait for clothes that didn't exist. The manager finally kicked me out on the third morning.

"I know you're not doing laundry," she said, not unkindly. "There's a shelter two blocks down."

The shelter was full. Of course it was.

I stood outside yet another office building, smoothing down my wrinkled dress. It was the same one I'd worn that night at the bar, and no amount of washing could make it look professional. But it was all I had.

"Next!" The receptionist at Hartley & Associates barely looked up as I walked in.

"I'm here about the secretary position."

She looked at me then, taking in my appearance with one dismissive glance. "Do you have a resume?"

I handed her the one I'd printed at the library, using the last of my change. Three years of being a housewife didn't look impressive on paper.

"No recent work experience?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I was... supporting my husband's career."

"I see. And where did you go to college?"

"I didn't. But I'm a fast learner and—"

"We require a degree. Next!"

The same scene played out at four more offices. Too unqualified. Too inexperienced. Too everything that wasn't good enough.

By afternoon, my feet were bleeding in my cheap flats and my stomach was cramping from hunger. I'd eaten nothing but water fountain water for two days. The last office building on my list was a towering glass structure that screamed money and power. King Enterprises.

I almost didn't go in. What was the point? But the lobby had air conditioning and comfortable chairs. Maybe I could sit for just a minute before they kicked me out.

The elevator was mirrors on all sides. I looked like a ghost. Hollow cheeks, dark circles under my eyes, hair that hadn't seen conditioner in a week. I tried to smooth it down, but it was hopeless.

The HR department was on the fifteenth floor. The receptionist here was younger, with kind eyes.

"I'm here about any entry-level position," I said before she could ask. "I know I don't have experience or a degree, but I'll work hard. I'll take anything. Cleaning, filing, making coffee. Anything."

She looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, but all our positions require—"

"A degree. I know." My voice cracked. "Thank you anyway."

I turned to leave and walked straight into a wall of expensive suit. My worn flats slipped on the polished floor. I fell hard, my dress riding up, showing everyone in the reception area that I'd had to wash my only pair of underwear in a public bathroom and they were still damp.

Laughter erupted from somewhere. My face burned as I tried to pull my dress down and stand up at the same time.

"Could you be any more pathetic?" A woman's voice said. "Security, please remove this... person."

"Enough." The voice was deep, commanding, and somehow familiar.

I looked up from the floor into dark eyes that made my stomach drop. It couldn't be. But the expensive suit, the sharp jaw, those eyes that had seen me naked...

It was him. The stranger from the bar.

He stood there like he owned the place – which, given the company name, he probably did. His expression was unreadable as he offered me his hand.

I wanted to run. To crawl away. To disappear into the floor. But everyone was watching, and my dress was still showing too much. I took his hand, trying not to remember how those hands had felt on my skin.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice professional but his eyes... his eyes held heat that made my cheeks burn.

"I'm fine." I couldn't look at him. "I was just leaving."

"Were you here for an interview?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm not qualified."

"Let me be the judge of that." He turned to the receptionist. "Conference room three. Now."

"Mr. King, you have a meeting with the board in—"

"Reschedule it."

He kept hold of my hand, leading me past the gaping staff to a conference room with floor-to-ceiling windows. The door closed behind us, and suddenly we were alone.

"You threw away your phone," he said without preamble.

"How did you—"

"I went back to the bar. The bartender said you'd been staying at the hotel down the street. The manager said you left on a bus three days ago."

"You were looking for me?" I stepped back, but there was nowhere to go. "Why?"

"You left this." He pulled my silver earring from his pocket. The one my mother had given me when I was small. The only nice thing I owned.

"Keep it. I don't want reminders of that night."

"Of what? The night you finally let someone touch you like you deserve to be touched?"

"Stop." My hands were shaking. "Please don't do this. Don't make it into something it wasn't. We were drunk. I was pathetic and desperate, and you were just—"

"I was just what?" He moved closer, and I could smell that same cologne. Cedar and smoke and danger. "Just another man taking advantage? Is that what you think?"

"I don't know what to think. I don't even know your name."

"Alexander King. Alex." He was so close now I could feel his body heat. "And you're Emma Chen."

"Not anymore. I'm nobody now."

"You're not nobody." His hand came up to cup my face, and I should have pulled away. Should have slapped him. Should have done anything but lean into his touch. "You're the woman who cried in my arms about being unloved and then made love like you were drowning and I was air."

"We didn't make love. We had drunk sex."

"Is that what you need to tell yourself?" His thumb traced my bottom lip. "That it meant nothing? That the way you responded to me was just alcohol?"

"Yes." But my voice shook.

"Liar." He leaned in close enough that his lips nearly brushed mine. "Your body remembers me, even if you want to forget. I can see it in the way you're trembling. The way your breath catches. The way you're looking at me right now."

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like you want me to kiss you. Like you want me to bend you over this conference table and make you forget every reason this is a bad idea."

Heat flooded through me, pooling low in my belly. "You're my potential boss. This is s****l harassment."

"You're right." He stepped back, and I immediately missed his warmth. "Which is why I'm going to offer you a job, and then I'm going to stay completely professional. Executive assistant. Sixty thousand a year to start. Full benefits. Start Monday."

"What?" I stared at him. "But I'm not qualified. I don't have a degree or experience or—"

"You organized a household. Managed schedules. Dealt with difficult people. That's all being an executive assistant is."

"Your HR department won't approve this."

"I own the company. I don't need their approval."

"People will talk. They'll say I'm sleeping with you for the job."

"Are you?"

"No!" But my face burned because part of me wanted to. Part of me wanted to fall back into his arms and pretend that night meant something.

"Then let them talk." He moved to the door. "There's an advance on your salary waiting at reception. Three thousand dollars. Get some clothes, find an apartment, eat an actual meal. You look like you haven't eaten in days."

"Why are you doing this?"

He paused with his hand on the door. "Because everyone deserves a second chance. Even women who run away without saying goodbye."

"Alex..." His name felt strange on my tongue. "That night was a mistake.There's nothing between us."

He smiled, dangerous and knowing. "We'll see about that, Emma. We'll see."

He left me standing there, shaking and confused and angry and aroused all at once. When I walked out, I could see the staff staring at me, whispering among themselves. The woman who'd called me pathetic looked furious.

I should leave. Should run. Should never come back.

But three thousand dollars. A real job. A chance to eat and sleep somewhere safe.

I walked back to reception on unsteady legs. The kind receptionist handed me an envelope with cash and a packet of employment papers.

"Welcome to King Enterprises," she said with a small smile. "Mr. King must see something special in you. He's never hired anyone personally before."

Special. If only she knew the truth. He'd seen me naked and desperate and broken. He'd seen me at my absolute worst. And for some inexplicable reason, he wanted to see me again.

I took the money and the papers and fled. But I knew I'd be back on Monday. Because as much as I hated it, as much as it shamed me, part of me wanted to see him again too.

The way he looked at me – like I was something worth wanting, worth saving, worth fighting for – was dangerous. It made me feel things I couldn't afford to feel. Made me want things I couldn't have.

I was still married. Still broken. Still the same pathetic woman who'd fallen into bed with a stranger because she was desperate for affection.

But when Alex King looked at me with those dark eyes, I felt like maybe I could be something more.

And that terrified me more than being homeless ever had.