Free Bound to You: Volume 2 by Vanessa Booke Page B

over several hours of whether I should show up at Rebecca’s apartment or not, I decide that if I did, it would probably be pushing it. I’ve called her at least three times today and I know she hasn’t changed her number or Striker would’ve told me. Even my text messages have gone ignored. I feel this unrelenting need to talk to her. I don’t even really know what I want to say, but I need to see her.
    I text her again and tell her to meet me at the coffee shop across from Books N’ Nooks. I know she’s inside the store. I was on my way to meet Tristan for lunch when Striker called to let me know he spotted her at a store.
    As I take a seat beside an open window, a voice breaks my thoughts. “Can I get you something to drink?” It’s the waitress for my table. I look up at her for a moment studying her face. She looks about Emily’s age, but by the way she’s thrusting her tits in my face, I know she’s not as innocent.
    “No, thank you. I’m waiting for someone,” I say, waving her away. She pouts and then leaves me to wait. I look down at my phone hoping there’s a text from Rebecca, but there’s nothing. Where the hell is she? I peer through the window and search the crowded street for her. It shouldn’t be that hard to spot that fiery hair.
    I’m just about to get up and walk over to the bookstore when I spot her. She’s moving fast down the street in the opposite direction she’s supposed to be going. Damn it, Gellar. My cock stirs. It seems she won’t be so hard to catch.
    My phone pings. It’s a text from Striker.
    Striker : Looks like she got away.
    I can practically hear him laughing at me through the phone. No fucking kidding. Note to self: decrease Striker’s salary when I inherit StoneHaven Publishing.

    After finding myself sitting alone in the coffee shop, I decided to meet Tristan for a late dinner. I needed to go to the gym to let off some steam, or rather so I wouldn’t go ape shit over Rebecca blowing me off. God, I wish she would blow me.
    “Nick, if you’re going to continue with this grumpy attitude, I’m not going to invite you to the opening of my exhibit.” I glance across the table at Tristan Knight and take another sip of my red wine. Somehow even the company of my best friend is not helping my mood. She fucking ran away from me. What the hell? I mutter her name beneath my breath, hoping that it will help ease my irritation. I just want to listen to the sound of it rolling off my lips. Fuck.
    “You’re starting to look like an old man with that grim face.”
    “What?” My eyes snap up to Tristan’s face. I know he’s fucking with me because his grin just widens.
    “You vain bastard,” he says, laughing. “Why are you all worked up?”
    I guess it wouldn’t be a bad thing if I told Tristan about Rebecca. Maybe talking about it might make me feel better. Probably not, but it can’t make it worse.
    “My assistant, Rebecca Gellar….”
    “I remember her. She’s a pretty one.”
    “I think she’s the devil in disguise,” I admit.
    “It must be the hair.”
    Tristan pours himself another glass of wine. The room around us is quiet, with the exception of the restaurant staff clearing tables. It’s after hours at Mario’s Italian Restaurant, but the owner is familiar with my family and he doesn’t ever mind when we stay past closing.
    “I’m guessing you’re starting to like Rebecca.”
    “There’s just a lot I haven’t filled you in on.”
    “I’m listening,” he says, smiling.
    Over the next two hours I fill Tristan in on what exactly has been happening with Rebecca – from the Lit For Kids event, up until yesterday. I tell him all the gritty details and I leave out nothing. I even stop to tell him about the conversation my father had with me about marrying Alison and just how depressing the idea is to actually have to follow through with it.
    “I think you should tell your father that you don’t want to marry Alison.”
    “I tried and he