Cassidy Ryan - Bound by Love.pdf

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Bound Brits Anthology
BOUND BY LOVE
Cassidy Ryan
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Dedication For Syd, Lee, Mychael and
Loukie, for your support and encouragement.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Ferragamo: Salvatore Ferragamo Italia S.p.A.
Hugo Boss: Hugo Boss A.G.
Rolls Royce Phantom: Rolls-Royce Limited
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Chapter One
Rhys Matthews jerked upright in his battered armchair, his head snapping from side to side. He
groaned when he realised he’d succumbed to sleep in the old chair in his studio for the third night in a
row rather than climb the stairs to the big comfortable bed in his living quarters.
A frown wrinkled his forehead and he wondered what had pulled him from sleep. Not a dream,
he was sure. He was too damn exhausted to dream these days.
The answer to the question came before he had even finished thinking it, and he pushed himself
out of the chair, moaning with discomfort as his body’s cramped muscles and aching bones made their
displeasure known.
He made his way down a short flight of stairs to the front door, feeling significantly older than
his twenty-six years. He pulled the heavy, scarred door open and found a uniformed delivery man
standing on the other side, a patient smile on his face.
“Mr. Matthews?” he asked pleasantly.
Rhys squinted against the early morning sun. “Uh, yes.” His voice was thick with sleep and
disuse. When was the last time he had spoken to another human being?
The man’s smile deepened. “Don’t sound too sure there. Haven’t had your morning coffee?” As
he spoke he held out a package wrapped in thick brown paper and a clipboard. “If you would just sign
here, sir.”
Rhys took the package and tucked it under his arm, then reached out and scribbled his name on
the line indicated.
“Thank you sir. You have a good day now.” With that the delivery man turned and headed
smartly in the direction of his van, parked at the end of the narrow, cobbled lane.
Rhys stood in the open doorway for a couple of minutes, blinking dumbly at the package, then,
giving himself a mental shake, he shut the door and climbed the stairs back to his studio.
For a moment he paused to consider the canvases in front of him. He was preparing for another
one-man show, and as usual, had gotten lost in his work.
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He couldn’t help smiling around the inevitable nervous flutter in his empty stomach. He was
pleased with the way things were going.
Forcing himself to move, lest he get caught up again before he had a chance to shower and eat
something—when was the last time he had eaten? He grinned to himself. He’d last eaten about the
same time he had spoken to another living being—the boy who had delivered the pizza two nights ago.
He placed the package on the battered workbench that held his materials and would have left it
there to go upstairs and sort himself some breakfast, but the neat, copperplate handwriting on the
wrapping caught his attention. A thrill so intense it took his breath away ripped through his body. He
reached for the package and tore at the paper with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning.
Inside was a thrillingly familiar carved-wood box with a brass latch holding it closed, along with
a heavy, embossed card the colour of parchment which read, “Meridian, 8:30 tonight.”
His entire body come to life. His blood rushed in his veins, his pulse raced and his skin fired.
With a hand that was trembling, he unlatched the box and opened it. Although he knew exactly
what he would find nestled on a bed of black satin inside, the sight made him lightheaded and made
his fingers tingle.
“Draven.” The singled word was spoken quietly but was charged with such feeling and emotion
it seemed to fill the room. Much like the man himself.
Blossoming joy and anticipation chased away all exhaustion and hunger but was tempered with a
hint of frustration when he caught sight of the clock on the wall. Nearly twelve hours to wait.
He put the box back on the work bench and closed it, running a hand almost reverently over the
intricate design etched into the wood.
A wide smile curving his lips, he grabbed a palette and started mixing some paint. Perhaps he
could channel some of this newfound energy constructively.
rnTrrr.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. It
was Friday night, so Club Meridian was busy.
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The door was opened by Roe Harland, a big burly ex-soldier hired to “Keep the peace”. One
look at Roe was enough to make anyone rethink the mischief they might have in mind.
“Rhys, good to see you again. It’s been a while.” Roe smiled warmly. It transformed his features
from forbidding to nearly handsome.
Rhys shook the big man’s hand. “Hello, Roe. I’ve been summoned.” His wide smile told how
happy he was about that.
Roe’s own smile widened as he closed the door to the private club. “Better get going then.
Wouldn’t do to keep him waiting.”
With mounting anticipation, Rhys made his way through the main body of the club, which
looked like an old-fashioned gentleman’s drinking club with its burnished wood-panelled walls,
thickly carpeted floors and expensive, yet understated furniture. As always, he admired the sights that
met his eyes in the intimate, ambient lighting. Seated in a chair by an open fireplace a handsome man
in his forties ran a hand lovingly through the hair of the young woman kneeling at his feet, her head
lowered deferentially. On a sofa in a darker corner, another man was being fed small pieces of fruit by
a partially clad young man with a look of delight on his face.
Rhys moved through the room until he came to the bar and a strikingly beautiful blonde dressed
in a figure-hugging white sheath. She held a leash attached to the collar around the neck of an equally
beautiful, but smaller woman who wore a short black dress cut low at the neck and high on the thigh.
When she saw him the tall woman’s violet eyes lit up with pleasure. “Rhys. darling. How
wonderful to see you again.”
Rhys offered the woman a small nod. “Hello, Lux. You look stunning, as always.”
She smiled and accepted the compliment as her due.
Rhys looked at the other woman who had her eyes lowered, but whom he could see was also
smiling. He looked back to Lux. “May I?”
Lux nodded her assent and Rhys bent down to place a soft kiss on the young woman’s forehead.
“You look lovely, Gaia,” he said softly. His eyes rested briefly on the beautifully hand-tooled leather
collar at her slender throat. As always he felt a small stab of envy which he quickly pushed away.
Gaia tilted her head in question to her mistress.
Lux merely nodded again, a small, loving smile on her lips.
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