All Chapters of Bound to My Sister's Billionaire Crush: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

- SIERRANoon arrived with the same indifferent glare as the morning. I’d managed to keep my stomach from revolting, mostly by staring at the crushing weight of the acquisition file Desmond had dropped on my desk. The numbers swam—endless columns of profit margins that felt like they were written in a language I no longer cared to speak.Aleena slid a container of greens onto my desk. "Eat. Now. Before you pass out and he files a formal complaint for improper fainting during billable hours."I looked at the salad and felt my throat tighten. "I can't. The smell of the dressing is... it’s a lot.""It's un-dressed," she said, swiping the plastic lid back and tossing the vinaigrette packet into the bin with a sharp thwack. "Just the greens. You need fuel, babe. You look like a stiff breeze would snap you in half, and I’m not carrying you to the car." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I heard about Vivian’s little Oscar-winning performance. The breakroom chat rooms are explo

- SIERRAAfter leaving the executive wing, the office felt like a crime scene. People stopped talking when I walked past them, and the silence in the elevator was so heavy it felt like it might snap the cables. I sat at my desk, staring at a spreadsheet, and refused to make sense, when the heavy scent of expensive cologne drifted over my cubicle wall."Hey, I think you dropped this," a male voice said.I looked up to see a handsome stranger standing by my cubicle, holding a small silver keycard in his palm. He had the kind face of a Boy Scout and the posture of a hired gun. It was a confusing combination that made my internal alarm bells go off."Oh. Thank you," I said, reaching for it. My fingers brushed his, and for a second, I felt a jolt of something that wasn't quite fear, but definitely wasn't comfort."I'm Michael. The new senior analyst. I just transferred from the London office." His expression was warm enough, but his eyes stayed icy and detached as if checking my pulse wi

- SIERRAThe woman in the mirror looked tired of her own bullshit.That afternoon after work, I stared at the reflection I’d maintained for three years: a tight, severe bun that pulled at my scalp and a charcoal-gray pantsuit that swallowed my frame. It was the "Zimmerman Standard." Desmond liked me in muted tones—colors that blended into the office walls, professional enough to be useful but dull enough to be invisible. He’d told me once, early on, that skirts were "distracting and impractical" for a woman in my position. So, I’d stayed in pants. I reached up and pulled the pins from my hair. It tumbled down my back in a thick and messy curl. "Enough," I whispered.I didn't go to the department store where the Zimmerman accountants had a corporate discount. I went to a boutique in Chelsea that displayed expensive silk and screamed rebellion. When I walked back into the penthouse four hours later, the bed was buried under shopping bags in shades of cream, emerald, and a blue so brig

- DESMOND"Desmond?" Vivian prompted. "You’re drifting again.""I'm here," I said, though my mind was still half-stuck in the penthouse, staring at the empty spot where Sierra’s submissiveness used to live. "I just... something is different. Sierra’s hiding something, Viv. I can feel it."The silence between us suddenly felt crowded by the things I wasn't saying. Vivian’s hand didn't move, but I felt her pulse jump against my knuckles."I see," she said, her voice becoming unnervingly calm. "And I suppose that complicates your 'high-end roommate' situation."My stomach tightened. I had underestimated her. She wasn't just listening; she was analyzing. "She’s just acting strange. She looks like she’s planning a hostile takeover of her own life.""Or maybe," Vivian said, her fingers tracing the veins on the back of my hand, "she finally has a reason to."I pulled my hand away. "What is that supposed to mean?""It means you're a smart man, Desmond. You've spent years building an empire on

- SIERRA"I had a lot to catch up on for the day," I replied emotionlessly, not bothering to look up from my computer screen. I kept my hands busy opening a new spreadsheet."It's nine-thirty in the morning. Your 'work for the day' usually starts when I say it." He walked into the room and placed the paper bag on my desk. The smell of fresh-baked croissants filled the space."I’m on a new schedule," I said, ignoring the bag."I see that," he said, his gaze drifting down to my new outfit. Before he could say anything about my new outfit, I spoke first., "Is there something you need, Mr. Zimmerman? A file? A dinner reservation?"He walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He didn't sit. He just stood there, looking at the light blue blazer, looking at the loose hair I’d refused to pin back."I don't like being managed, Sierra," he said."Then it's a good thing I've retired from the position," I replied. He stared at me, his jaw tightening. "We’re going to talk. Tonight. With