Chapter 12
Twelve
A nother morning waking up alone in bed, but today it is different. His side of the bed is still warm, and I’m cuddling his pillow.
Great.
He wasn’t home when I went to bed, and I tried to stay up waiting for him, but sometime in doing so, I fell asleep. It makes me wonder where he goes until the wee hours of the morning. Is he seeing someone else? A mistress? My father has had several throughout his marriage to my mother. It’s disgusting and the sign of a weak man. But he has to be getting it from somewhere since he isn’t getting it from me.
Right?
Since that night on the roof, he hasn’t touched me. Kind of hard to do any touching when we barely see each other.
Sighing, I slip out from beneath the cozy covers and trail to the closet, not overly enthused that I’ll have to wear one of Ai’s getups again. Some of them, I like, but most of them simply aren’t…me. They don’t hold any personality, and the woman didn’t give me one pair of flats or sneakers. Not even any workout gear.
I turn on the light, cracking my neck as I ready myself to dig through the hoard of suck when…wait…where are all the clothes? My entire side of the closet is empty, save for a pair of leggings and a coral shirt. I nearly cry when I see the pair of flats that sit on the shoe rack below.
“Good,” a voice rumbles behind me. I let out a shriek, jumping and twisting in the air. “You’re awake.” The last two words are spoken with a chuckle.
“Jesus, Kenzo.” I breathe harshly, holding a hand to my chest. “You scared the shit out of me.” My throat tightens as he steps into the closet, caging me against the built-in dresser. He leans in, his lips inches from my ear.
“You should learn to be more aware of your surroundings, wife,” he whispers seductively. “You never know when a beast might devour you whole.”
And now my panties are wet. And possibly on fire. I know my cheeks are.
“Is that what turns you on, Mr. Nakamura?” I lick my bottom lip, enjoying how his gaze follows the path it traces. “Helpless damsels in distress?”
“Not at all,” he assures me, but there is a dark current beneath his words. “I love it when my damsel fights me tooth and nail as I chase her down and force my cock into her cunt.”
Wide eyed, I stare at him in shock at his confession. Primal play is something I’ve read about in books, but it isn’t something I thought people actually did and enjoyed. My throat works to swallow the lump of unease in my throat as he presses against me. Warmth fills my stomach, traveling downward. I clench my legs together as lust zips through my body at the feel of his hard cock grinding against me. He grabs my face with his hand and covers my mouth with his.
There is a fire building between us, one I don’t know if I want to stop from burning us to ash. Bringing my hands up, I press them to his chest, but not to shove him away. I inch closer to him until our bodies are flush against one another.
“Yoo-hoo,” someone calls from outside of the closet. “Mrs. Nakamura?” Kenzo breaks the kiss, staring down into my eyes, something I don’t recognize lingering in his gaze.
“You better get dressed,” he tells me as he takes a step back and straightens his suit. “Peter Marks is here with your replacement wardrobe.”
Confusion mars my forehead. “I don’t understand.” Isn’t he the one who wanted Ai to pick out all my clothes for me? The ones that make me more like a socialite and less like…me?
“Ai went against my orders,” he says, all business. “I would never take your style away from you, Evaline. As long as your clothes are modest and appropriate for the occasion, what you wear is up to you.”
My gaze finds the floor as my cheeks heat in gratitude. “Thank you,” I whisper. Two fingers find my chin and force my gaze to my husband’s.
“Don’t thank me for something that never should have happened,” he says firmly. “You are the wife of the Oyabun . The queen who stands at the side of her king. Don’t ever let anyone bring you down like that again. Do you understand?”
Biting my lip, I nod my head meekly.
“Good.” He places a kiss on my forehead. “Change and I will see you at the breakfast table while Marks unloads your new wardrobe.”
“Okay,” I murmur gratefully, taking a long breath as he strides out of the closet.
That was intense.
Does this mean he wants me to be more than just a trophy wife on his arm? Maybe it means that there will be more to my life than just planning charities and function and having lunch with other gossipy wives whose idea of a charity is donating to the already elite.
When I’m done dressing and leave Peter to fix the mistake he made, which he apologized for profusely, I head into the dining room for breakfast. It’s odd having Kenzo sitting next to me at the breakfast table when he’s been gone every morning since he forced me back here.
Jean is here again, and I wonder if he ever takes a day off or if he is here twenty-four seven. He’s filled my plate with different pastries this morning. I expressed to him yesterday that I’ve been wanting to start my patisserie and learn more techniques. I was in the middle of patisserie school when Kenzo found me. It’s why I was willing to pick up shifts for Samantha. One night bartending at that shitty-ass strip club was enough to pay for nearly an entire semester of school.
“You sure went all out this morning, Jean.” Kenzo chuckles as he bites into a butter croissant. “I don’t think you’ve ever made such a spread before. You’ve truly outdone yourself.”
Jean is beaming from ear to ear at the compliment. “Oui, sir. Your wife has inspired me with her own appetite for baking. She has such a talent for the arts. I know one day she’ll have the pleasure of being successful when she opens up her own shop.” Kenzo’s gaze cuts to mine, and I swallow the bite of danish in my mouth, avoiding his eyes. Jean, who is clearly unaware of the tension, flitters around the table, filling our nearly empty glasses before disappearing back into the kitchen.
“Your own bakery, huh?” Kenzo raises a brow at me over his newspaper. “News to me.”
I can’t help but scoff. “It’s news to you because you know absolutely nothing about me,” I remind him, taking a sip of my fresh-squeezed orange juice. “You never once asked about my dreams or aspirations or what I wanted for myself. You just came in and took over, expecting nothing more from me than to stand by your side and look pretty.”
Folding his paper, he sets it down on the table and leans back in his chair, arms crossed against his chest as he studies me. “Okay.” He waves a hand between us. “What do you want, Evaline?”
Shaking my head, I let out a small noise of disbelief. “Don’t patronize me, Kenzo,” I hiss.
“I’m not,” he tells me. “What is it you want to do? Bake? I can arrange that. Jean is the best the culinary and baking world has ever seen. You can learn from him right here in your very own kitchen. You want a bakery to run? I’ll buy you one and outfit it with the best equipment money can buy and hire people to run it for you.”
This man.
This fucking man.
“Do you hear yourself?” I ask him incredulously. “Nothing you said actually involves me. Except for the learning part, but what is the point in that if I won’t be there to actually work in my own bakery? And let’s not skip over the fact that instead of asking where I want to go to school, you just assume I’m going to want to learn right here in my very own prison. I’m not playing the Belle to your Beast, Kenzo. I won’t be kept in this penthouse until you deem it necessary that I can go outside.”
“What is wrong with what I said?” The fucker asks that with a straight face. “I’m willing to give you everything you want as long as you do it right here.”
“You can’t…you can’t see what is wrong with that sentence?” I really did marry a psychopath. One that is determined to keep me locked up in his ivory tower. I might actually need to grow my hair out enough to climb out of this crazy house. “What are you going to do? Keep me locked in this fucking penthouse forever until I go so insane I start licking the wallpaper?”
Kenzo looks at me like I am the crazy one.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Evie.” He shakes his head, as if this conversation is exasperating for him. What the hell does he have to be exasperated about? I’m the one he is literally holding prisoner in his fortress of solitude. “You will be escorted out for events, charities, social gatherings and the like.”
I’m going to fucking murder this man in his sleep.
“Fuck this.” Scooting my chair back, I throw the napkin in my lap onto the table and get the fuck out of there before I say something I regret. Or end up with my own husband’s blood on my hands. That motherfucker is crazy if he thinks that I am just going to allow him to lock me up and throw away the key except for when it is convenient for him.
“Evaline,” he booms as I step into the elevator. I don’t waste any time before slamming my hand against the door close button and flipping him off as the elevator doors close before he gets to them.
I’m going to regret that.
My fingers twitch at my sides as I wait for the doors to open onto the second floor. When they do, I rush out, only to be caught in the iron grip of my husband.
“Did you honestly think I would let you walk away, utsukushī bakuchiku ?” he whispers in my ear, licking the lobe before biting down. I cry out at the sudden sharp pain. “How should I punish you, hmm?” It’s rhetorical, I know it is, because he doesn’t wait for me to answer before he starts dragging me down the hallway to our room.
“Let me go, Kenzo,” I growl, kicking out at him. He’s grabbed me in such a way that my arms are useless at my sides. “If you think I’m going to let you lay a finger on me, you can go straight to hell.”
The infuriating man just chuckles at my expense.
“I’m not going to be laying a finger on you at all, my beautiful firecracker.” His voice is silk, woven with dark promises. “I’m going to lay several on you.”
When he gets tired of my kicking him, he pushes me away from. Just when I think I’ve won, the bastard leans down, shoving his shoulder into my stomach, and heaves me over his shoulder.
At least my hands are free.
“Put me down, you beast,” I scream at him as my fists pummel his muscled back. Fuck, what does he do to get such rock-hard muscles? It’s like hitting a boulder. His hand comes down on my ass, and I shriek.
“Good girl,” he praises when I’m too stunned to hit him again.
Those two words can go to hell right along with him.
And so can my wet fucking panties.
Striding into the room like he is some white knight with a gallant purpose, he uses his foot to shut the door before he unceremoniously drops me onto the bed.
“I’m going to stab you in your sleep,” I threaten. Kenzo chuckles like he finds my threat as amusing as a mouse threatening a cat.
“You can try,” he tells me as he shrugs off his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt.
Not good. Not good. Not good.
“But if you miss or don’t finish the job, the punishment you would get afterward will make what I am about to do look like child’s play.”
My throat works hard as he takes a step toward me, his tie sliding off from around his neck and into his large, calloused hands. I kick out at him, but he easily dodges the blow and sinks himself between my open thighs. The thin leggings I’m wearing provide a flimsy barrier between me and his hardening cock. My face heats, and I look away from his penetrating gaze that feels as if it can see right through me.
“Don’t turn away from me.”His voice is a low, commanding growl, and I can feel the heat of it searing into my skin. His rough fingers spread over my throat, caressing the delicate flesh with a surprising tenderness. I meet his intense gaze with a fiery glare, but I can feel a deep flush of embarrassment blooming across my cheeks. He doesn’t tighten his grip, and I wonder why he is holding back. Is it out of restraint or some other hidden motive? The tension between us crackles like electricity, and I am both drawn to and intimidated by his powerful presence.
“You want to learn to bake?” he asks me. “I’m giving you that opportunity. You want to own a shop? I’ll make that happen.”
My breath is shallow beneath his hand, my lungs burning as I struggle not to cry.
“I want to go to school,” I tell him honestly. “With people. Classmates. You know, out in the real world beyond the bars of the prison you’ve erected around me.”
“Prison?” His lips turn up in mocking amusement. “There are worse places I could keep you, Evaline. You have everything you could want, right here at your fingertips. This is hardly a prison.”
A muffled sound escapes my chest. “A cage is still a cage, even if it is gilded.” I swallow beneath his grip. “I’ve been kept in one my entire life, Kenzo. I finally experienced freedom. Don’t take that away from me.” My voice is nothing more than a whispered plea, desperate to make him understand.
For three years, I was free from the control I’d experienced my entire life. Every aspect of my life had been constantly controlled. What I ate. What I wore outside of the house. What I studied. Where I went and what I participated in. My life was scheduled from sunup to sundown.
For the first time, I was able to decide my own day. Over time, I learned about what truly interested me and discovered what I liked to do. My first job was in a small bakery in South Carolina, and I fell in love with it. The early morning start and midday finish. Something about baking turned the loud voices in my head off. The ones telling me I’d never make it. Never be good enough.“It seems to me as if you simply want another opportunity to escape me,” he accuses, a rumble building deep in his chest.
I shake my head as much as I can in his grip. “I’m not,” I assure him. “I promise. Do you honestly think I’d be putting so much effort into the wedding and everything else if I was going to run away?”