Free Bound to be Punished: Part I (Bound to be Punished Series) by S.P. Miller Page B

here. This is where we make it happen, after all.”
                 
                  She was pleasantly surprised to find that Adam was immensely knowledgeable about the whole production side of the film industry. His focus, of course, was on set design, but it quickly became clear that he knew most of the ins and outs of any standard TV studio. When he got to discussing their mutual trade, Anne was pleased to see his entire face light up, and his innate charm shone through as he spoke enthusiastically about his area of expertise.
                 
                  Unfortunately, he was equally enthusiastic about sports and their conversation soon derailed down a path that Anne could not follow. When it came to sports, she was just plain hopeless. They’d never interested her, and even during college she couldn’t have been bothered to know who their team was or even what sports the school competed in. And this is the point where I could fall asleep standing up, she began to think, struggling to find a way to return the conversation to some topic she knew something about.
                 
                  Jessica returned to her rescue, though, bringing fresh drinks to the table they had managed to commandeer, and saying loudly over the music, “why don’t you two dance?”
                 
                  “Indeed, why don’t we?” Adam asked, and setting aside his drink he offered her his hand.
                 
                  Casting a sidelong glance at Jessica, who was settling herself comfortably at their table, Anne took hold of Adam’s hand and followed him out to the dance floor. The lighting was low, with several glittering lights reflecting and refracting colored light over the dance floor. As he held her hand in his and drew her into his arms, Anne felt a strange, uneasy flutter in her belly.
                 
                  “I hope you’re a better dancer than I am,” he joked lightly, and Anna was struck again by how handsome he was when he smiled. Indeed, if he kept designing stage sets long enough, she had no doubt that eventually producers would start wanting to put him on the stage instead.
                 
                  She was a better dancer, although Adam certainly didn’t have two left feet, but to her dismay it wasn’t enough to overcome their conversational gap. After spending several songs dancing, they made their way back to the table where Jessica was still sitting.
                 
                  “Hey, this is Edward,” Jessica introduced them to another man she’d struck up a conversation with, “he’s friends with the club owner. This is my friend Jessica, and Adam.”
                 
                  The introduction was lost on her as she took a seat, though. Standing beyond the crowd of people, she caught sight of the one man who could make her heart fall into her stomach. He was standing near the bar, a drink in hand and leaning against it as he surveyed the club scene.
                 
                  Charles Donahue. His cool, black gaze took in his surroundings in the same keen way that a predator scouted its territory. Another man stood next to him, talking to him, and she felt relieved that he hadn’t seemed to notice her as she sank further into her seat.
                 
                  “You okay?” Jessica asked. Adam had left to get them fresh drinks, and Anne turned back toward her friend with a tight smile and a nod.
                 
                  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she glanced back through the mass of people; he hadn’t moved from the bar, every inch of his lean 6’3” frame decked out in black, from his shoes and pants to the black linen shirt that he wore unbuttoned at the