Bound to My Sister's Billionaire Crush

- SIERRA

"Desmond?"

My heart beat wildly against my ribs, and I started to jump up in a startle. The room was very dark, but I could see a shadow hanging at the edge of the bed.

His only reply was silence. I smelled only of the Scotch and his cold bitterness.

There were only the two of us in that house, and the miles of silence between us.

Three years had I lived in this room and been my retreat and my prison. Desmond had remained on the other side of the hall and had turned my bedroom into a restricted area.

He had not been in this room, nor even touched me, since the day we signed the marriage certificate, which he had made a sort of death warrant. But tonight he broke the rule as he slowly and awkwardly climbed onto my bed.

I wondered whether the ice had at last broken, whether he would accept me this time. I hoped it was time for his heart to be softened enough to grant us a chance.

"What are you doing in here?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Shut up, Sierra," he rasped. His voice was dry and dead cold

"Desmond, you're drunk," I said, reaching out a hand. I immediately pulled back.

"I said stay quiet."

I even felt my heart jump a beat as he removed his clothes until he was completely naked. For a moment, I was paralyzed, my eyes glued to him as I stared at every inch of him, from his dark face to his hairy, broad chest, and down to his strong, erect manhood.

In a moment, my face turned red. I was like a child who had seen what she wasn't supposed to see and wished that the floor would just swallow me up.

My heart beat rose higher as he drew nearer, and I could feel the warmth of his body. It was the first time I had been that close to the man I had so long loved secretly, but always gave me a cold shoulder.

The heat of his breath tickled my neck, and his icy hand was slipping under my thin lingerie. His fingers were frenzied and callous, rubbing my breast.

"Stop," I breathed. "Look at me, Desmond! Look at who you're actually touching!"

"I don't need to look at you to know who you are," he snapped, pinning my arms above my head.

My body was forced to touch his warmth, and I could not resist it. I had always fantasized about our intimate moments, but not in such a situation. It is not what I wanted, not like this.

I tried to push myself away, instinctively, trying to jerk out of him, but I wasn't fast enough.

Before I could even make a gasp, he pulled me back and drove me right into his chest.

"What... what do you want, Desmond?"

He did not reply or look at me. He hastily rolled himself on top of me.

I couldn't even think clearly when he easily suppressed me.

"Stop squirming! You have desperately desired it ever since you signed those marriage papers, have you? Don't play the saint now. At last, you got what you sold your soul for?"

But before I could even draw breath to reply, he closed the distance.

His lips crashed into mine.

As his tongue slipped into my mouth in a hot and demanding kiss, I felt like I was in heaven. My heart was pounding hard, and I felt a shiver run through me that left my stomach flipping.

He did not know what he was going to do next. He had violently pulled the quilt up, then my nightgown, and fingered his way across my naked body without any gentleness...

He didn't slow down. The only thing I felt was his rhythmic, punitive thrust into me, over and over. I bumped my head on the headboard and grabbed the sheet to contain the painful agony.

After all, he collapsed with a low groan, which was more of a curse than a sigh of relief. He sank down on me for a moment and then leaned over to the side into the mattress. His breath came deep and harsh, the repressive, drunken sleep of a man who had forgotten already that he was in my bed.

I was forced to do something before Desmond awoke.

After I scrambled into my clothes, I threw on his clothes with shaking hands and called for the driver. "Get him to his room, Nigel," I whispered. "Please keep this between us. No one else finds out, including Desmond. I mean it."

Nigel entered the room immediately, and his eyes went around the knocked-over glass and the way I was holding my cardigan together. He did not seem to look at Desmond. He gazed at me, his eyes resting on the red marks along my collarbone.

He did not ask any questions. He only nodded his head.

"Of course, ma'am," he mumbled.

He went to bed with practiced ease and slipped an arm under Desmond's shoulder. Desmond groaned, but Nigel just ignored it. He picked up the dead weight of his boss and supported him, making it appear to be an easy task.

Nigel stopped at the door. He looked back at me with his blank expression—except for a flicker of something that looked a lot like a warning.

"I’ve already forgotten everything I saw tonight, Mrs. Zimmerman," he said quietly. "Get some rest. I’ll handle the rest."

He did not bother to wait until I said 'thank you'. He turned round and disappeared into the hall.

It wasn't a dirty dream. That really happened two weeks ago.

That was the night he took my virginity that I’d saved for a husband who didn't even bother to glance at me.

Ever since, Desmond had never even mentioned it once. I was not bold enough to bring it up, and I believed he was so drunk that night that he hardly remembered.

And that was all before his first love, my younger sister, Vivian, made her grand return.

"Sierra? Hey, babe. You are still there or has your brain malfunctioned?"

A sudden stab at the ribs had brought me to my senses.

I closed my eyes, and my hands were trembling a little on my keyboard.

My best friend, Aleena Logan, was leaning over my desk. She was the only one in this Zimmerman Corps building who did not stare at me as though I were a walking tragedy. The only one in the office who knew about my secret marriage with Desmond. Her brow was anxious with a worried kink.

"Sorry," I said, shaking my head. "Just... did not sleep well last night."

"Yeah, no kidding. You look like you were haunted," Aleena said. Her eyes were through the glass doors of the executive suite. "Look. The Queen has arrived."

I followed her gaze.

The executive elevator doors opened, and Vivian, my younger sister, stepped out.

She was dressed in a cream-colored power suit, which she had paid more for than I had paid for my old car, and her high heels made a clamorous sound on the marble floor.

Two weeks had passed since she came back, alive and perfectly well. She never said where she had been over these years. She had not clarified how her lame legs had miraculously been able to walk in a lobby. She just came back, and Desmond's world grew upside down.

"Look at her," Aleena hissed, her voice was low and sharp. "She has arrived in five minutes, and she already has her own keycard and a corner office. What was she supposed to be broken?"

"She is my sister, Leena," I said, but I could hardly get the words out of my mouth.

"She is a sheep in wolf's clothing. Wake up. She is literally stealing your husband and now your job. And your desk is practically in the hallway now."

I didn't answer. I saw Vivian walk straight to Desmond's office. She didn't knock. She just flicked the handle and entered. I could look through the glass and saw Desmond stand up at once. The man who never looked at me a second when I entered a room was now a gentleman, drawing out her chair and hovering over her as if she were a fine porcelain.

I did not stop loving her as she was my younger sister. Lost somewhere in the depths of the hurts came the girl who shared my room. I'd have given her everything. I had given her the credit for saving him ten years ago. I'd given her my reputation. I was even ready to give up my love for Desmond in case she really wanted it.

But, as I watched her lean in and whisper to his ear, something that made him laugh and look at the door where I sat with pure coldness, I knew something.

Vivian was not concerned about my sacrifice. She was back to get everything she had lost.

The intercom suddenly buzzed on my desk. It was Nova Brook, Desmond's secretary, a girl who was once my friend, until Vivian began whispering in her ear.

"Sierra? Desmond wants you in his office. Now. And take the lunch order for Miss Vivian."

It was a thing I should have known would come sooner or later. I served him as a personal assistant for three years until Vivian returned. Now I was nothing more than a gopher, a simple helper who had to go out and bring in coffee, lunch, or supplies.