Bound (Bound Duet Book 1) Read online

  “Annie, light it up,” she said and handed me the joint that looked like a perfectly rolled cigarette. “This shit is strong and smooth; you’ll forget who you are before you get back to work.”

  She knew me—we’d been friends since high school. She was my alternate personality. The opposite of everything I was, she kept me grounded. The yin to my yang. My parents hated my relationship with her—and all of my other friends. They’d never understood why I was attracted to people who so clearly hadn’t been my socio-economic equals. They never understood that my definition of equal and theirs weren’t the same. Owning a four bedroom, three bath home on the Eastside didn’t make someone a good person, nor did a college education. I would never associate social standing with worth, but my parents sure had. They believed there was only one path in life: theirs. High school, college, marriage, house, and then babies. And people with our social stature didn’t “slum it” with those beneath us. It amazed me that two well-educated people could be so narrow-minded.

  Distracted by my thoughts, I pinched the joint Jenny offered, lit it, and took two drags before I handed it back. “Do you ever want to say fuck all the expectations and do what you want to do?” I asked her.

  “Shit, Annie, are your parents giving you hell again?”

  “Again? It’s a continuous barrage when I bother engaging with them. They don’t like my friends. They don’t like that I work and don’t focus solely on school. They don’t like my apartment because respectable girls my age don’t live on their own. Blah, blah, blah. I don’t know why I bother trying to have any type of relationship with them—it just ends in my own disappointment.” My diatribe directly resulted from the weed taking effect. I didn’t talk much about this kind of stuff sober. I simply pushed through and did what I needed to do to maintain my independence. The last thing I wanted to do was have to ask them for help.

  Laughing, she handed me the joint. “Girl, do what feels natural. You’re an adult. You pay your own way. It’s not like they’ve been around much since the trials anyhow.” She held her breath as long as she could before she exhaled the smoke trapped in her lungs. “You know what your problem is?”

  I glared at her, knowing what was coming. “Enlighten me, grasshopper. What is my problem?”

  “You need to get laid.”

  I laughed hysterically, having heard this from Jenny and Lynn for months. They were both convinced if I would have random sex with someone, anyone, my brain would allow me to move on; like somehow, sex would tone down the racket inside my head. Jenny had been the one who picked up the pieces when Will called it quits after four years. She knew the ins and outs of what I’d lived through to help him cope. A casual fuck buddy wouldn’t undo the abuse I’d endured, the abandonment issues, or the guilt I’d felt afterward. The girl the world saw was strong and independent, but the one behind closed doors was meek and scared of her own shadow. I spent every second of my day trying to be the best version of me I could for the public, while internally I was a dismal failure. My career and school were easy, they just required hard work, relationships with the opposite sex were a completely different story.

  He went to Clemson, and I’d gone to the University of South Carolina. After monopolizing my life with the burden of his situation, he’d decided he needed to experience college life without reminders of home. I hadn’t realized those reminders included me. He had decided my every move since tenth grade, and I had let him. We’d supported each other through everything he’d endured—and in return, everything he’d put me through. I’d never left his side regardless of how bad his pain got or what it had meant for me. Faithfully, I stayed by him—he was part of my identity. Without him, I was plain old Annie Teasman. I’d been Will Murphree’s girlfriend for years; we went together like salt and pepper—without him, there was nothing distinctive about me.

  Without Will around to make the decisions, what had been recreational pot use at parties turned into daily use of much harder substances to maintain my schedule. My psychiatrist had told me to stay busy to ward off the depression after the breakup, and consequently, the trials—I took that to the extreme and cocaine became my drug of choice, and sadly, my lifeline. I didn’t use it to enjoy a high or an adrenaline rush but more the way others did caffeine…just multiplied by a hundred. It wasn’t possible to work as much as I did and go to school without a chemical aid. The body simply wouldn’t allow it.

  “We are not having this conversation again.” I snorted, still laughing at her, and noticed she’d pulled into the parking lot where my car sat. I hopped out, but before I closed the door, I leaned in. “Want to come out with Lynn and me tonight? Cravin’ Melon’s playing at Magnolia’s.”

  Jenny slowly closed her eyes and smiled, drifting off to a fantasy dreamland only she had access to. She had some crazy thing for the lead singer of the band. They had played at our high school prom where she’d had a thirty-second conversation with him. That one exchange led her to believe they now had an existential connection.

  “Yeah, I’ll meet y’all out there around ten.”

  “See you then,” I called as I closed the door.

  I grabbed my keys from my pocket and unlocked my car. I threw my backpack in the front seat, and then walked around the hood to head into work. The piece of paper under the windshield wiper caught my attention and stopped me from continuing up the sidewalk. I reached for it, assuming it was a flyer, but on closer inspection I realized it was a note written on Game Shell, Inc. paper—one of our biggest competitors. Coincidentally, also the consulting firm I had bid against at the DC until Dan and Brett had chosen me. It had to be a joke. Only, I didn’t recognize the handwriting.

  Annie ~

  Every week I get excited for Thursday to roll around hoping to get to see you walk through the dc. You had on my favorite skirt yesterday, and I couldn’t help but watch you. I love the way your smile lights up your face, and your eyes twinkle with just a hint of mischief. But just as I think I see something devious, they soften, and my heart skips a beat. You can’t imagine where my thoughts go when you’re around. Can’t wait to see you again. Until then, I’ll be thinking of you.

  ~ GD

  Looking around, utterly confused, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I had no clue who would have written this, much less left it on my car in front of my office where any of my coworkers could have seen it. Even worse, I didn’t have the foggiest notion who the hell “GD” was.

  I was high as a kite when I unlocked the door to Walton’s. Thank God it was Friday, and everyone had left at five, or I’d be showing my ass when I walked in all glassy-eyed and giggly. Stepping into the office, I acknowledged the stuffy interior—it was a beautiful space, but so highbrow I felt slightly suffocated at times. I pushed through the heavy door and passed the offices that all looked similar to my own but with slightly different color schemes to reach my door. Clutching my bag and the note from my car, I strolled through the doorway to perch my ass in the leather chair behind my massive mahogany desk.

  This was a tough industry, price competitive and cutthroat. People worked years to get in with a top firm; most of them stepped on people’s faces while they climbed the corporate ladder. My parents had owned a consulting firm all my life—different industry than the one I worked in, but consulting all the same. I’d spent most of my childhood and teen years working in their office on various projects. Starting as a gopher, I gradually worked my way into a team member role. I was headed toward the sales team when the trials derailed my career with my parents. Before it was all said and done, my dad had introduced me to Jack to keep from feeling guilty when they asked me to leave.

  So, while my experience hadn’t exactly been in this field, I had more than most of my coworkers gave me credit for. I grew up in the business, and I’d been doing this full time since I graduated from high school. I was about to turn twenty-one, so just shy of three years. In those three years, I had worked for Walton’s exclusively. Jack, my boss, knew my dad
and gave me a one-time shot. He’d gone with me to pitch a small account and see whether I had what it took. When I sold the bid, he kept throwing me bones until he trusted me on my own. Once he set me free, I was determined to be more successful than anyone on his team—it was a much-needed distraction from the past couple of years and became an addiction in itself. I was unwavering in my promise to be the best, and he rewarded me for it.

  I knew I had visually appealing assets—I was taller than average, thin and athletic, with my hair my most striking quality—so I played them up. I did not, however, offer them out as incentives to buy my services or use them to get Jack to give me more than he gave anyone else who performed. I had pitched my first proposal to a small tire manufacturer here in town with Jack in tow. Little did I know, the company had been in the midst of a buyout by a national manufacturer at the time of my bid. Forrester Tires brought me in to reorganize their workforce, create safety programs, straighten out their OSHA issues, and hopefully, boost morale to up productivity.

  I had six months, which sounded like a lot of time, but that place was in critical need, almost unsalvageable, hence the reason a larger conglomerate wanted to gobble it up. Nearing the end of my contract, I had managed—by the grace of God and the will of the workforce to hold on to their jobs—to accomplish what they’d asked me to do when they announced Biglin Tires was assuming the company at the end of the month. Since they had been in negotiations with Forrester’s the entire time I had been there, they saw the changes and called Jack to request a meeting with the two of us about servicing their company nationwide—thus securing my future at Walton’s.

  It hadn’t taken Jack long to recognize my ability to sell—I had a natural ability to convert prospects into buyers. A few months into my tenure at Walton’s, and I no longer worked the accounts—I just sold them. Then I brought in a team for completion and stopped by often enough for the client to feel warm and fuzzy about my involvement. Jack quickly figured out my talent was in identifying the problems, creating the plan, and selling the solution—anyone could do the implementation. But the fact still remained—I graduated from high school at seventeen, and I was twenty years old…almost twenty-one. The majority of my coworkers were thirty-five to fifty, and regardless of how good I was, they didn’t believe I had earned my spot. And others were skeptical just because of my age.

  The note caught my eye as I reached for my computer, and I picked it up again. Obviously, it was from someone at 3 Tier, but there were so many guys that worked out there, I didn’t have a clue which one it could be from.

  I tucked the note into my pocket, forcing myself to stop obsessing over it so I could get some work done and get out of here. Fridays were tough for me with classes all day and then work after five. I hashed out the final details to include the additional points Brett and Dan had asked for at 3 Tier, made copies for everyone who would need them next week, and then tucked them into my leather case. I shut down my computer, glancing at the clock. I mentally calculated thirty minutes to go home and freshen up before I left to meet Lynn at Magnolia’s.

  Promptly at ten, I stepped past the bouncer. It was so loud I couldn’t see—my eyes vibrated from the beat of the music. I loved Cravin’ Melon, but at that decibel level, it was hard to tell it was music anymore. I was already desperate for a drink, my mouth crying out for a Diet Coke. The bartenders were lenient about serving underage drinkers, but it wasn’t my thing.

  I gave alcohol a fair shot; that’s what kids in college did. But I never took to it. I preferred marijuana—it knocked off the edge and gave me the ability to relax. And it counteracted the cocaine I used during the day—my illegal Adderall. My freshman year had hit me hard: the hours at Walton’s, classes, schoolwork…all the things I submerged myself in after Will and the trials. There weren’t enough hours in the day to add in sleeping and eating. What had started as a pick-me-up had quickly become routine. By that point, it was a daily supplement I needed in order to focus, and I used it the way most people would a cup of coffee to enable me to go days with little or no sleep.

  Lynn walked up behind me and gave me a hug.

  “Have you seen Jenny?” I practically screamed in her face to make sure she could hear me.

  “She’s up at the front of the stage drooling over Doug Jones. Poor thing, he doesn’t have a clue who she is. I don’t have the heart to tell her, though.”

  Dismissing Jenny—and Doug Jones—I asked her about the note. I dug it out of my pocket and handed it to her. “Do you know who GD is?”

  She took the piece of paper from me. Reading the note, a smile spread across her face, answering my question. She shook her head like she couldn’t believe “GD” had slipped me a message.

  “I found it on my windshield this afternoon outside the office when I got back from class.”

  “I told you that you were being followed. You said you weren’t interested. So…are you interested now?”

  “I’m interested in knowing who’s leaving notes on my car. I am not interested in ‘hooking up’ with whoever is doing it.” I couldn’t add anything else to the daunting list of things I’d already taken on.

  “Gray Dearsley—the weekend shift supervisor. Honestly, Annie, he’s smoking hot. He’s tried to weasel all kinds of information about you out of me, but beyond the basics, I didn’t tell him much. I know he’s been tailing you at the DC.” I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. I just told her I wasn’t interested in acting on anything; I only wanted to know who it was.

  “Have I met him? I think I’d remember a name like Gray.”

  “I doubt it. His shift is the only one not involved in your project, so there’s no reason to involve him in anything you’re doing. He’s usually only at the facility Friday through Sunday, and he’s rarely out on the floor—unless he’s stalking you.” She shrugged like it was unimportant before going back to her table.

  My friend led me back to where she’d been sitting, but Jenny stopped me. She was swooning and pulled me toward the stage. Glancing over at Lynn, I motioned that I was following Jenny. Lynn held up her hand and pointed to her phone.

  Jenny was blitzed, gazing up at the stage like her soul resided in front of the microphone. Bless her heart; she was clueless. She handed me what I assumed was a cigarette, but upon inhaling, I got far more than a little tobacco and was quickly back to my drug-induced dreamland. Only Jenny would risk smoking pot in public knowing if she got caught, she would go to jail. Cottonmouth was getting the best of me, and I still hadn’t gotten the drink I needed when I walked in.

  In a necessary attempt to find liquid to quench my thirst, I turned from the stage and my delusional best friend in search of a waitress or the bar. Pushing through the horde of people, I attempted to get Lynn’s attention to see if she wanted anything, but she had her phone stuck to one ear, and her finger was in the other trying to block out the noise. With her gaze fixed on me and a mischievous look in her eyes as she talked, she beckoned me and then put her phone back in her purse.

  The pushing and bumping of the surrounding crowd were enough to send me into an anxious spiral. People were oblivious to everyone around them, only focused on their own conversation as they moved around the dance floor. I was athletic, toned; I should have been able to hold my own in a tight situation, but I felt like a beach ball bounced around in a crowd at a concert.

  It might have been easier to reach my friend crawling on the floor or surfing the crowd, but when I finally got back to our table, Lynn looked around like she expected someone. “Who are you looking for?” I asked, scanning the crowd. I opted to sit and wait for a waitress instead of trying to make it another fifty feet to an equally crowded bar.

  “No one in particular, just looking,” she responded.

  Liar. Luckily for her, I didn’t care.

  Then I saw him.

  The guy on the forklift walked through the door. He was several inches taller than most people in the crowd. I was mesmerized, and everything in the room
stopped moving. As I watched him, the sounds became silent, and I couldn’t steer my eyes away. He exuded confidence. This wasn’t a man who chased women—they chased him.

  “Holy shit, Lynn, what’s he doing here?” I pointed over toward the guy I’d seen earlier at the DC as she flagged him down.

  Waving like an idiot and grinning like a jackass, she finally got his attention. The instant he made eye contact with her, his gaze shifted, and I found myself stunned by his sexy-as-hell, cocky grin.

  “What the hell?” I freaked out the closer he got. I sensed the fear creeping into my features; my eyes widened with each step he took in our direction. Holy mother of God, I had to get my shit together. His swagger, the quiet confidence in his stare, those gorgeous pools of blue—suddenly, I was a lusty teenager back in high school.

  Lynn scooted over, making room for him at the booth. I sat there like a total moron with my mouth ajar, staring at the two of them. Drool would have formed at the edge of my lips if I’d ever gotten that drink, but luckily, the cottonmouth was saving me from utter embarrassment. Lynn said something to him, but I couldn’t make out what. The music was too loud, and she didn’t want me to overhear her. He leaned into her, eyes diverted, but whatever she said shifted his gaze to me, and he shot me that quirky grin. My panties were drenched—damn traitorous body. With just a look, a crinkle of his eyes, and a curl of his lip, this guy made me want to rush him to the bathroom to rip off his clothes and take advantage of every inch of him. Everything about him screamed trouble—he would absolutely wreak havoc on my already chaotic life.