Bound Beneath His Pain (Dirty Little Secrets 1)

Chapter 1

Allie

“Get here. Pronto. Shit is going down!”

There are only three reasons my real estate assistant, Liv Sloan, sent me the vague text on Monday morning.

One, the deal for my last clients, who fled the lively Haight-Ashbury area to raise their family in the quiet and quaint Cole Valley district, fell apart.

Two, our boss is in a mood.

Three, a pair of Liv’s beloved high-heel shoes suffered a wretched death.

Stuffed inside the elevator, a block away from Union Square, with rank perfume smells tickling my nose, I wonder over Liv’s message. All three reasons are totally up her alley. She’s dramatic, but in a cute, funny way that I love.

When the elevator doors chime open, I ease my way out, entering Richardson Real Estate, and frown. While I love my job, the offices are a whole other thing. They’re in need of a major upgrade, which is the very reason I’m late today. I’d never meet clients in this run-down horror show.

I pass the empty waiting room, scrunching my nose against the stale smell hanging in the air, then pick up my pace, turning the corner down the main hallway, finding Liv standing by the watercooler near our cubicles.

“You’re not going to believe what’s happened,” she says, practically bursting with energy.

“Aliens have invaded Earth?” I offer.

“What?” She gives her head a slight shake, her brown curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Guess again.”

“Santa came early and brought you new Louboutin shoes?”

She gives me a playful nudge, her big, round brown eyes squinting. “Ha, I can only wish! Holt has bought out Richardson.”

I pause, waiting for her to say she’s joking. “You’re serious?”

She nods. “Very serious.”

A knot of worry tightens in my belly then I force myself to go numb. I’m a top-selling agent at Richardson. My job can’t be in jeopardy. This has to be good news, right? Still, I can’t wrap my head around it. Holt has made billions of dollars dealing in commercial properties. Richardson’s sales are only in the multi-millions, with a handful of agents selling middle-income homes. Sure, that’s Richardson’s strength in the San Francisco market, but why would Holt want to add it to their portfolio? Isn’t the middle-class market messy pocket change to them? “What in the world does Holt want with Richardson?” I voice my thoughts.

Liv gets herself a drink from the watercooler and then faces me. “From what I gathered, Holt wants to gobble up the entire real estate market. Businesses, high-class homes, middle-class homes; they want it all. Including taking the top agents at Richardson into Holt.”

Greedy pricks. They can’t be satisfied having a corner of the market to make their billions, they need to suck the whole damn thing dry. I lean against the cubicle next to us, my back straight as a pencil. “So, their plan is to swallow Richardson up?”

“To be honest, I don’t really know what the plan is.” She leans closer to me and tells me quietly, “They offered me a job at Holt. Which I guess means they’re taking you, too.”

“Indeed, that is the plan,” says a strong male voice.

Oh, shit!

I hesitantly glance sideways and unfamiliar sparkling blue eyes hold mine. “I take it you’re Allison Parker?” the stranger asks.

“That’s right,” I reply. “But you can call me Allie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Allie.” He offers a handshake. “I’m Anderson West, COO at Holt.”

I admire his blue suit while shaking his hand, thinking not only does this forty-something-year-old man have some serious style, but the Holt staff is very professional. Our own CEO, Henry, is typically found wearing loose-fitting khakis and sweaters to cover an aging midsection.

Anderson releases my hand and adds, “I take it Liv has filled you in on what you missed at the meeting.”

I smile. “Yes. I’m all caught up.”

“Excellent, saves me from repeating myself.” He shoves one hand into his pant pocket, straightening his spine. “As with Liv, we’d like to offer you a position at Holt.” He hands me a sealed white envelope with my name on the front. “Please know that the terms are negotiable. If you want we can discuss—”

“Ah, the straggler has finally decided to grace us with her presence.” Another unknown voice booms, from a man who appears to my other side. This one with even a more raspy, gravelly tone.

I gulp, realizing who the smooth silky voice must belong to, Micah Holt. His bluish-gray eyes narrow on me and my breath is gone, as the air whooshes out of the room. Everyone in San Francisco knows the famous billionaire, the tabloids make sure of that. This hot playboy is a weekly feature, not that I read the rags that often, but you can’t miss his face plastered on them as you wait in the grocery store lines.

Confronted by the real man, I understand why the tabloids are obsessed with him. The power he exudes is magnetizing, raising the hairs on my arms. He owns the space around him, making everyone else disappear. All I know is his sexy-as-hell eyes on me and how that act alone warms me from the inside out. I raise my hand and smile. “Hello, that’s me, I’m Allie, the straggler.”

By the arch of his brow, I assume the first impression I’m putting forward surprises him. Which it does me too, as I’m not usually a smart-ass, but he’s rattling me. I’m drawn to him, no matter that I don’t want to be, because I know this guy is a bad idea.

And I know that so definitely because I know his type. My half-brother is cut from the same cloth as Micah. I bet he’s a man who works from eight in the morning until eleven at night. He’s probably a guy who only has relationships to fina

ncially or sexually benefit him.

Regardless of what I know, the instant attraction is rich with velvety promise.

One side of his mouth slowly arches in the beginning of a smile and he finally murmurs, “Allie.”

A shifting feeling happens near my heart, a pang of sorts, leaving me aware of the delicious burn he’s stirring inside me. Oh, this guy is smooth. He doesn’t say someone’s name; instead, he rolls it off his tongue, savoring the syllables. Micah’s got game, no question, and I realize I’m going to have to be on my toes around him.

Of course part of my problem is that I haven’t dated in over a year and my force field is thinning. Perhaps if I’d listened to Liv and stopped being so damn picky, this guy’s well-played tactics wouldn’t be affecting me.

Micah’s hand moves toward me then, his strong fingers clasp mine, and there’s nothing professional about this handshake or my reaction to him. My nipples pucker beneath my bra into hard points and heat pools low in my body. Which by the slight grin on his face, I’m sure he’s well aware.

Anderson clears his throat, interrupting a moment that seems to have gone on way too long. “As I was saying to Allie, we can discuss the terms of her offer, if she would like.”

Smoky eyes on mine, undressing me where I stand, Micah slowly releases my hand. “Let me handle this negotiation.” He takes the envelope from Anderson. “Please follow me, Allie.”

Obviously I’m not the only one surprised, because the look on Anderson’s face tells me this isn’t normal behavior, and Liv notices, too, grinning and winking at me. I roll my eyes at her enjoyment at my expense, and exhale loudly, following Micah into the meeting room, noticing now that some of my peers are watching this parade.

Ugh. Get control of yourself, Allie. It’s a guy in a suit. Well, a totally hot guy in a suit, but still a guy that I met a hundred times growing up. Famous. Spoiled. Rich. Arrogant. Not the guy for me.