Bound by the Silver Fox Don

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Rachel

"Ra—chel—you're here—"

Charles Vitale was wasted. Completely sunk into the leather couch. The man who was usually sharp, exacting, never off his game—his tie hung loose, shirt half-open, the clean lines of his chest muscles visible under the warm light.

I froze for half a second, eyes darting away. My ears burned.

This wasn't the first time I'd been summoned at night to clean up his mess, but who wants to spend their personal time with their boss?

Especially on Leona's birthday. If it weren't for the fat year-end bonus and enough company gift certificates to replace both freezers at Sea Breeze Diner, I'd punch holes in that expensive shirt of his right now.

I crouched down and hoisted Charles's arm over my shoulder. His head dropped heavily onto me, reeking of Macallan.

"Yes, sir. I'm taking you home."

He leaned his full weight against me, face practically buried in my hair. "You smell like melted butter today."

That's because I'd only managed one bite of dinner before rushing out.

"He's—" Charles suddenly giggled. "He's coming back—we're screwed—really screwed this time—"

At the door, his legs gave out. Nearly took me down with him. I gritted my teeth and held him up, my shoulder going numb under his weight. Thankfully, the attendant had seen this before. He hit the elevator button, helped me prop up Charles's other arm, and didn't let go until we reached the car.

The driver was already waiting, pulling open the back door. I shoved Charles inside and climbed in after him. The second I sat down, he slumped against me again, head on my shoulder.

"Greenwich Street."

We pulled up just before eleven. I hauled Charles into the elevator, up to the sixth floor, swiped the lock, and pushed through the door.

The apartment was dark except for a wall sconce in the living room. Two magazines lay scattered on the floor, a men's dress shoe kicked sideways by the entrance. He clearly hadn't bothered cleaning up before leaving yesterday.

I steered him to the couch with practiced ease.

"Sit." I was breathing hard. He collapsed backward, legs sprawled across half the couch, tie completely undone, shirt buttons finally giving up—his chest basically bare.

I looked away. Knelt down to take off his shoes, then peeled off my jacket and draped it over a chair. It was already wrinkled from supporting him the whole way here. I went to the bathroom, wrung out a hot towel, poured water, and set it on the coffee table.

"Drink some water first." I held out the glass.

Charles took it, but his hand wobbled. Half the water splashed onto his shirt. He laughed quietly, then suddenly grabbed my wrist.

"Rachel..." His voice was rough, almost tender. Eyes half-closed, looking at me completely differently than usual.

"Mr. Vitale, you need to rest. You have the legal department meeting at nine tomorrow—"

His thumb rubbed slow circles on the inside of my wrist. Every hair on my body stood up.

"Call me Charles." A smile tugged at his mouth. "You always take care of me like this... running interference with drinks, managing my schedule, coming out in the middle of the night when I call, remembering which coffee I like... Rachel, I actually really like you."

My heart skipped. I tried to pull my hand back. He gripped tighter.

"Mr. Vitale, you're drunk. I'm just—"

"I mean it." He cut me off. His other hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer. His eyes looked darker in the lamplight. "You're so careful with me, so thoughtful. You have to like me at least a little, right?"

My voice came out tight. "I'm doing my job."

"Your job?" Charles laughed low. His other hand pulled me in by the waist. "You do this for everyone? Rachel, admit it. You care about me."

Ice ran down my spine. My whole body went rigid.

This was the first time a man had held me this close.

His bare chest was burning hot. I tried to push him away, but my hands only pressed against his chest—his skin scalding under my palms. I jerked back like I'd been shocked, suddenly completely lost.

"Charles... let go. It's Leona's birthday. I need to go home."

"She can wait."

His tone turned suggestive. His face moved close to my ear, breath hot against it.

"I need you right now. You have no idea how long I've been holding back. Every time I see you in that little suit, all proper at my desk, I want to pull you over..."

"Charles, this is wrong—" My voice shook.

"What's wrong about it?" His palm covered my waist, thumb brushing back and forth. "You're an adult. So am I. We both know what we're doing."

"I'm your employee!"

"So what?" He tightened his arms, lifting me slightly.

I struggled, but his arms were iron.

"I like you, Rachel. Really. This isn't a game. I can give you everything you want. An apartment, a car, bags, jewelry. Or you can change jobs—you won't have to take the subway anymore—"

"Stop it, Charles!" I practically shouted. "I'm not—I don't feel that way about you—"

Before I could finish, he yanked hard. My heels slipped on the carpet. I lost my balance completely, landing in his lap. I struggled instinctively, elbowing backward, but he pinned me down.

"Rachel, relax." He lowered his head, nose nearly brushing my cheek. "I like you. Really like you. You have no idea—I hand-picked you. The moment I saw your photo, I liked you..."

He kept rambling. My heart was pounding so hard it might explode.

This unfamiliar, oppressive heat blanked my mind.

The next second, I was under him. He kissed my neck, hot lips brushing and biting at my skin.

I shuddered, frozen, couldn't even make a sound.

His hand slid to the front of my shirt, fingers deftly undoing the first button. Then the second.

"Charles... let go..." My voice trembled.

He wasn't listening. The shirt buttons came completely undone, exposing the lace underneath. His eyes darkened. His breathing got heavier. He touched one fingertip to my nipple. A tingling sensation shot through my whole body.

"See? Your body's a lot more honest than your mouth."

Shame and fear flooded me. I twisted desperately. But his hands were faster, reaching behind me—he unhooked my bra with one practiced flick. The straps slipped off instantly. All the blood rushed to my head. Cold air and his body heat hit me at once.

"Charles! You—"

He kissed me, tongue forcing its way in, tasting of liquor. One hand pinched my nipple, rolling it gently. I panicked, but he was so strong, so heavy. I couldn't move.

I glanced sideways. There was a crystal ashtray on the coffee table. If I could just reach it, I could hit him. I stretched toward the table's edge. Almost. Just a little more. He noticed, flipped his palm, and pinned my reaching hand down. The last bit of hope I had collapsed.

"Reaching for the ashtray?" He followed my gaze to the ashtray and chuckled. "You bad girl."

I bit down on his wrist. He grunted but didn't let go. Instead, his hand moved under my skirt.

"Let go of me! Charles, I will kill you." I glared at him.

"You've got some fire in you."

I dodged frantically, shoulders pulling back, legs kicking under him.

My vision started swimming. He pressed down harder, breathing heavier, switching from pinching to cupping my entire breast, squeezing harder.

I opened my mouth to scream, but my throat felt blocked.

Only broken gasps came out. My eyes stung.

The ashtray in my line of sight felt like it was mocking me.

So close. I'd been so close.

Charles had already pushed up my skirt. His palm dragged slowly up my thigh. His fingers hooked the edge of my underwear.

"Rachel... be with me, okay?" He panted in my ear. "I'll be so good to you... make you happy every day..."

Just as he was about to pull my underwear down, a low, cold voice rang out from the entrance.

"Let her go."

The next second, Charles was yanked away by brutal force. So hard the couch shook. I gasped, chest aching. I'd barely pushed myself halfway up when a tall shadow planted itself between me and Charles.

Charles staggered back, hitting the coffee table. The water glass tipped over. Water spilled across the floor.

"What the fuck are you—"

The man didn't answer. He threw a punch, catching Charles square on the jaw.

"Are you sober now?"

Charles saw who it was, and his expression changed completely. He wiped his mouth, Adam's apple bobbing, voice panicked. "I was just—"

"Shut up."

Charles went silent. He leaned against the cabinet, gasping, face ashen. I stared at the man in front of me. He had the kind of face that made you forget how to breathe.

Strong features. Sharp lines. Heavy brow.

Straight nose. Thin lips. A faint old scar near his jaw by his ear—nearly invisible unless you got close.

And his eyes. Dark, deep, like the ocean at night with no light.

Made you too scared to even lie. He had that calm, steady, clean presence that only came from being in power for years. Like a knife still in its sheath.

I hadn't recovered when he started buttoning my shirt. His fingers inevitably brushed my skin. I froze. Couldn't even move.

"Can you stand?"

I opened my mouth. My throat was tight. I barely nodded. But he frowned, straightened my skirt, took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, then scooped me up.

"Rachel, are you sure you want to go with him? You have no idea what kind of man he is."