Read Online Bound to You by Shawntelle Madison - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shawntelle Madison
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sounds familiar, though.”
“It’s an erotic painting by Gustav Klimt with two figures. Klimt had a thing for the naked female form. He found symbolism in what others would find overtly sexual.”
I chuckled. “I’ve yet to do any naked posing for art.”
“No, I’m sure you haven’t, but you remind me of the woman in that painting. The milky complexion of your skin. The way your hair frames your face.”
My breath caught and I had to turn away from him to take in the lights of downtown Boston.
Thank goodness we pulled up to the opera house before I had a chance to lose it. He was almost close enough to see all my secrets and none of them I wanted to tell.
Chris opened the door for us. Xavier emerged first and I followed him. The sounds of busy streets erupted around us, but all I could focus on was him and the fact he stood so close to me. Flashing lights from photographers’ cameras flashed around us, pulling me out of the moment.
You’re not on a date, Sophie.
I reminded myself I was his assistant for the evening and any inquiries to his company would reflect such.
“This way, Mr. Quinn,” one man with a camera called.
Xavier paused, turning so that his hand hovered over my back. So tantalizingly close, yet not close enough to touch me. Ever since I’d met him on the plane, he’d avoided touching me for some reason. I briefly glanced at the flashing lights, but my stomach was churning. The last thing I needed was a headline in
The
Boston Globe:
CONCIERGE PHENOM PASSES OUT IN THE BRIGHT LIGHTS AND FLASHES HER WALMART PANTIES TO THE WORLD.
“You all right?” he whispered in my ear.
“Of course.” I gave him the smile I gave everyone.
Amusement shined in his blue eyes. “Of course.”
It was hard not to get caught up in the excitement. A long row of limousines waited to bring more patrons for the event tonight. The people who got out were dressed in dazzling evening wear from Valentino to Hervé Léger. Wealth had smells, from the heady citrus colognes the men wore to the delicate, expensive floral perfumes the ladies dabbed on their necks.
“Do you always smile like that when you lie?” Xavier had more to say as we entered the building. Heat filled my face. I kept my mouth shut and continued to walk beside him, all the while taking in the signs for upcoming events.
The Nutcracker
.
Sleeping Beauty
. Tonight’s piece was
Pelléas et Mélisande
.
I couldn’t believe he’d outright said that, but this was Xavier Quinn.
A beautiful grand chandelier shined above our heads. I’d been in this building many times before, but I was always delighted. Acquaintances who grew up in the area told me the opera house had been renovated more than a decade ago and now the original glory had returned. I could see it in the fine marble on the floor and the gold leaf finishes on the walls. The carpets and tapestries added an Old World flair that made this experience even more fairytale-like.
“I take that as a yes,” he added when I remained quiet.
“No comment, Mr. Quinn.”
We joined the crowd enjoying refreshments in the lobby. The stairs to the theater lay ahead. Now that we were in the thick of things, I couldn’t miss how others glanced in our direction. Women whispered inquiries to their friends. Men remarked on the new player on the field. And I was standing next to him.
Using my trained eye, I scanned over the crowd and I noted familiar faces. Even prior and current clients.
“Champagne?” Xavier placed a glass in my hand.
“Thanks.”
The drink went down smoothly. I turned to look at him from the corner of my eye. “You ready to do this?”
“Do your thing.” He extended his hand toward the crowd.
As we weaved through the crowd, Xavier became chatty. “How many people here do you know?”
“Too many to count,” I said with a laugh.
I introduced him to a few businessmen first. Going all out eager with the men associated with Nakamura wasn’t wise. Step one was to build
“It’s an erotic painting by Gustav Klimt with two figures. Klimt had a thing for the naked female form. He found symbolism in what others would find overtly sexual.”
I chuckled. “I’ve yet to do any naked posing for art.”
“No, I’m sure you haven’t, but you remind me of the woman in that painting. The milky complexion of your skin. The way your hair frames your face.”
My breath caught and I had to turn away from him to take in the lights of downtown Boston.
Thank goodness we pulled up to the opera house before I had a chance to lose it. He was almost close enough to see all my secrets and none of them I wanted to tell.
Chris opened the door for us. Xavier emerged first and I followed him. The sounds of busy streets erupted around us, but all I could focus on was him and the fact he stood so close to me. Flashing lights from photographers’ cameras flashed around us, pulling me out of the moment.
You’re not on a date, Sophie.
I reminded myself I was his assistant for the evening and any inquiries to his company would reflect such.
“This way, Mr. Quinn,” one man with a camera called.
Xavier paused, turning so that his hand hovered over my back. So tantalizingly close, yet not close enough to touch me. Ever since I’d met him on the plane, he’d avoided touching me for some reason. I briefly glanced at the flashing lights, but my stomach was churning. The last thing I needed was a headline in
The
Boston Globe:
CONCIERGE PHENOM PASSES OUT IN THE BRIGHT LIGHTS AND FLASHES HER WALMART PANTIES TO THE WORLD.
“You all right?” he whispered in my ear.
“Of course.” I gave him the smile I gave everyone.
Amusement shined in his blue eyes. “Of course.”
It was hard not to get caught up in the excitement. A long row of limousines waited to bring more patrons for the event tonight. The people who got out were dressed in dazzling evening wear from Valentino to Hervé Léger. Wealth had smells, from the heady citrus colognes the men wore to the delicate, expensive floral perfumes the ladies dabbed on their necks.
“Do you always smile like that when you lie?” Xavier had more to say as we entered the building. Heat filled my face. I kept my mouth shut and continued to walk beside him, all the while taking in the signs for upcoming events.
The Nutcracker
.
Sleeping Beauty
. Tonight’s piece was
Pelléas et Mélisande
.
I couldn’t believe he’d outright said that, but this was Xavier Quinn.
A beautiful grand chandelier shined above our heads. I’d been in this building many times before, but I was always delighted. Acquaintances who grew up in the area told me the opera house had been renovated more than a decade ago and now the original glory had returned. I could see it in the fine marble on the floor and the gold leaf finishes on the walls. The carpets and tapestries added an Old World flair that made this experience even more fairytale-like.
“I take that as a yes,” he added when I remained quiet.
“No comment, Mr. Quinn.”
We joined the crowd enjoying refreshments in the lobby. The stairs to the theater lay ahead. Now that we were in the thick of things, I couldn’t miss how others glanced in our direction. Women whispered inquiries to their friends. Men remarked on the new player on the field. And I was standing next to him.
Using my trained eye, I scanned over the crowd and I noted familiar faces. Even prior and current clients.
“Champagne?” Xavier placed a glass in my hand.
“Thanks.”
The drink went down smoothly. I turned to look at him from the corner of my eye. “You ready to do this?”
“Do your thing.” He extended his hand toward the crowd.
As we weaved through the crowd, Xavier became chatty. “How many people here do you know?”
“Too many to count,” I said with a laugh.
I introduced him to a few businessmen first. Going all out eager with the men associated with Nakamura wasn’t wise. Step one was to build
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