Chapter 15
Fifteen
I t’s nearly eight by the time Saito pulls the Escalade up to a well-known Japanese restaurant called Harumi.
“Thank you,” I say to Saito as he opens the door and I climb out. My guard leads me up the entrance that is already teeming with people waiting for a seat. Most of them are walk-ups, people hoping upon hope to be able to get a table at one of the most famous restaurants in town that books up months in advance.
Saito leads me up the front where a hostess waits with a large smile on her face.
“Good evening, Mrs. Nakamura,” she greets me. “Right this way, please.”
Leaving Saito behind, I follow her through the crowded entrance and into the stuffed dining room. Laughter and soft conversation filters in from all sides. The background is littered with the sounds of silverware hitting dishes and chairs being pushed back and the kitchen going at full speed.
“Nakamura-san is waiting for you just beyond that door. The chef will be taking your orders directly,” the hostess says as she leads me out onto the large patio where a privacy fence has been set up.
The door to the private garden room opens, and Saori steps out onto the cobblestone, pulling the door closed behind her. She puts her phone away, adjusts the hem of her too short dress, then strides toward us. When passing, she flashes me a smirk and a wink. I stop, thinking about grabbing a fistful of her black curls and slamming her head into the nearest wall. What is she doing here?
“Nakamura-san does a great deal of business with Ms. Saori’s parents,” the hostess explains, as if it will make me feel better. It doesn’t.
“How nice of her to make a personal visit on their behalf,” I mutter, following her through the same door Saori exited.
“Can I get you anything to drink? There is a bottle of sake already on the table, but if you would like something else, I can have the waitress get it for you.”
“No, that’s okay.”
A gentle nod accompanied by a soft smile passes between us as she turns to leave. As the door closes behind her, I take a moment to fully absorb my surroundings. The enclosed patio is lined with elegant water features, their steady babbling providing a soothing backdrop to the evening’s events. My gaze is drawn to Kenzo, who stands near one of the delicate structures, engrossed in his phone. When he notices me, his eyes sweep over my figure in an appreciative manner before a hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
“Let me call you back.” He ends the call without waiting for a response from the other party.
I run my hands down my sides. Lizzie helped me pick out a floral draped corset midi dress. The neckline plunges between my breasts, and there is a long slit up one thigh that shows off my tanned legs that are heightened by a pair of black heels.
Kenzo’s eyes latch on to mine as he pockets his phone and prowls toward me the same way I imagine a panther stalks its prey. My heart flutters, and my stomach ties itself up in knots at the hungry look in his eyes.
“You look beautiful, firecracker,” he breathes, his hand coming up to cup my cheek.
“Thank you,” I whisper. He reaches his hand down, trailing a finger down my cleavage.
“Were you a good girl today?” he asks, his hand lighting a fiery trail down my body to the space between my legs.
“I still have that plug in, if that is what you mean.”
He smirks, his hand reaching up between my thighs to feel for himself. My cheeks stain when I realize he is also feeling how wet I am from having it moving around inside me all day.
“Such an obedient wife,” he teases. “Did you find a dress today?”
Like he doesn’t already know. “Yes,” I say. “The bridal attendant was very helpful.”
Kenzo hums. “I’m glad.” I wait for him to say something else. Maybe even mention why Saori was in here with him alone. But he doesn’t. He simply leads me toward a table that is intimately set for two. Little candles float in glass vases that are filled with stemmed roses. A bottle of sake and two cups sit to one side, ready to be poured.
“This is romantic,” I tell him, hating the silence that has fallen over us. It feels awkward trying to make conversation with my husband, who is basically a stranger. I don’t know anything about him. What he likes to eat. His favorite color. Does he have allergies? These are things a wife usually knows about the man she marries.
“I thought it would be a good place for PR.” He says it so practically. My heart drops a little, knowing that the only reason he set this up was for the photographs. The ones I am sure the press will be taking when we exit the restaurant for the night. It is as if the universe knew I needed another reminder that I am nothing but a business contract to him.
“Of course,” I say, giving him a tight smile.
Taking my hand, he leads me toward the table, to the chair on his right. I sit down as he holds the chair out for me, tucking me into the table before taking his own seat.
“How was your time with my mother?” he asks as he pours me a small cup of sake.
“It was fine,” I tell him as I take the glass from his hands. “Thank you.” I take a sip of the sake. It has notes of melon and citrus with plenty of umami. It is light and refreshing, just how I like my wine as well.
“Just fine?” he asks before waving his hand in the air. A door behind him opens, and waiters fill the room, bringing us several trays of nigiri, sashimi, and a variety of different rolls. They also bring in small bowls of miso soup and fresh glasses of water.
The aroma of the fish and soup make my stomach growl, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Unless you count the PowerBar Lizzie shoved down my throat on the way home from the bridal shop. Unfurling my chopsticks and placing my napkin in my lap, I grab a few pieces of everything and place them on the plate directly in front of me.
“Yep,” I tell him after I swallow a bite of the most delectable toro I’ve ever had. It’s fresh and melts in my mouth. “She brought along a friend of yours.” Kenzo’s chopsticks freeze as he is about to reach for a tuna roll.
“Did she?” He picks up the roll, his jaw tense.
“Yep,” I say again, popping the P before diving back into my plate. He doesn’t say anything after that, and silence falls between us as we eat. When we are done, a few waiters make their way back into the room and clear away our table, leaving the remaining sake and water.
“Dessert?” Kenzo asks me. I shake my head no, patting my stomach.
“I’m good.”
Kenzo waves the waiters off, and they disappear back through the kitchen door. I hear the latch of the door catch as it closes.
“They won’t be back until I unlock it,” he tells me when I startle at the sound.
“Everything was great,” I tell him, not wanting to let the awkward silence build again. “Thank you for taking me here. It must have cost a fortune to get a table so last minute.”
“I own the restaurant,” he informs me. “This room is mine and mine alone. No one else comes in here.”
Of course he owns the restaurant.
“Well, if the crowd outside is anything to go by, it is very popular.”
Kenzo nods. “The man who originally owned the restaurant passed it on to his son, who didn’t have the funds to keep it going. So I bought it out from under him, sent him to culinary school, and let him buy half of it back. He runs the kitchen, and my organization runs the money and marketing.”
“You mean turning dirty money into clean money.” I shake my head.
Kenzo smiles. “To some extent, yes. But this restaurant brings in enough to not have to worry about that here. We tend to use places like laundromats and tailors for that because they mostly deal in cash and are less likely to trigger any systems.”
“So you leave the more profitable businesses alone to keep them clean because they are often the ones most scrutinized.”
Kenzo beams at me. “That’s right.”
“Makes sense. The bigger the name, the more likely it is to garner attention.” My father’s world and the criminal world aren’t all that different. Not really. The only difference is that Kenzo doesn’t hide behind a mask of civility. The world knows who he is. They’ve seen the cold and malicious businessman who switches from signing contracts to plowing a man in the face with his fists. There is no pretense with him, and it is one of the things I like about him. I grew up in a home where nothing was real. Everything was on display for guests. There were fake smiles and compliments, empty promises. You never knew if you were getting the frog or the scorpion.
Kenzo is exactly who he says he is. Ruthless and deadly.
“What did my mother say to you this morning?” The question sucks the air from my lungs. Did Chiyo or his mother tell him what happened at the bridal shop? Or maybe it is that bitch Saori who whispered in his ear, spinning her own tale.
“Nothing in particular,” I skirt around the truth. “We didn’t really have much of a conversation. She mostly just commented on the dresses I tried on.”
“That all?” he asks, like he doesn’t believe me.
“Yep.” His fingers curl into a fist on the table, but he doesn’t look angry.
“Is that all you know how to say?”
“Yep.” This time I give the word a teasing lilt.
A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Damn, if I could get him to smile more often, it would be worth marrying him. He looks downright angelic when he smiles.
“You wouldn’t be lying to me would you, firecracker?” he asks, that hungry look coming back in his eye from earlier when I walked in.
“Why does it matter what conversations your mother and I might or might not have had?” Kenzo stares at me in silence, his hands flattening on the table. I wonder where his head is at, because I can’t read him at all. He’s like an impassable wall, and I can’t figure out why it matters to him.
“My mother isn’t someone you want to make an enemy out of,” he sighs. “She is as much a part of the Yakuza as I am. She stood at my father’s side from the beginning. Many of the brothels, the casinos, the women…she ran them all for him when they first came to New Orleans. She isn’t someone to be trifled with. My mother will expect this to be a traditional marriage.”
There’s an opening if I ever heard one.
“Speaking of this marriage,” I start. Kenzo raises an eyebrow at me. “We haven’t really discussed what all of this is.”
“This?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.
“Yeah.” I move a finger between us. “This.”
“We’re married, Evaline,” he reminds me. “That is what this is.”
It takes every ounce of strength in me to not snap at him. “We don’t know anything about each other, Kenzo,” I point out. “This morning, you were already talking about children. I’m not ready for that. I’m only twenty-one, for Christ’s sake.”
He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms against his chest. “Giving me an heir is required by the contract you signed.”
“Unwillingly,” I murmur under my breath before adding, “It doesn’t have a timeline, Kenzo. What is the rush? What is so wrong with waiting until we know one another better?”
His jaw tightens, and a low rumble crawls up his chest. “This is a business arrangement, Evaline,” he reminds me. His tone is soft, but there is a cold breeze beneath it. “Don’t go thinking that this is anything more than that.”
If hearts and hopes could shatter, mine would be in a million pieces on the floor at his feet. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, he would grow to love me. Cherish me. But apparently, that is asking too much. Kenzo’s chair scrapes against the floor as he stands and goes to the door leading back to the dining room. For a moment, I think he is leaving, but he simply locks it like the door to the kitchen.
He strides toward me, pinning me with a lustful stare. When he reaches me, he runs the back of his hand along my jaw, pushing my hair back behind my ear.
“Things can be good between us, Evaline.” His words surprise me. Here he is saying that this marriage is nothing but a contract, but he touches me with the softness of a lover. “Just because we will never love one another doesn’t mean we can’t both benefit from this.”
Taking my hand, he pulls me from my chair and pulls me until I am flush against him. He takes my fingers and leads them to his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tips. The small action sends tingles of awareness zipping through me.
“How’s your ass?” His free hand comes down to squeeze my sore bottom. I hiss as a fresh wave of lingering pain shoots through me. It hasn’t been horrible, but the day definitely wasn’t the best, having to try on tulle-covered wedding dresses that brushed over the welts without care.
My cheeks erupt in flames as I remember how he took me after he punished me.
“Fine.” I tilt my chin up stubbornly, daring him to say anything. He simply laughs.
“Maybe I was too lenient with you, then,” he teases as he pulls my chair out farther from the table. Turning us so that his back is to the chair, he lets me go. Kenzo pulls off his dinner jacket and drapes it over another chair. Then goes to unbutton his sleeves and roll them up to his elbows, showing off his delectable forearms.
He makes a show of sitting in the seat, his legs splayed open where I can easily see his pronounced hardness. Kenzo reaches out and grabs my wrist, leading me between his thighs. “Get on your hands and knees, firecracker. Let’s put that beautiful mouth to work, shall we?”
Is it hot in here, or is it just me? My body feels like it’s resting on the surface of the sun with how hot it is. I shouldn’t want to do this. Not after he told me he’d never love me. But my body remembers the pleasure he gave it this morning and it wants more.
With a slow, deliberate movement, I part the slit of my dress and gracefully sink to my knees in front of him. My heart races as I finally meet his gaze, unable to deny how wet I am for him already. Anticipation courses through me, setting my body aflame with desire. He wastes no time, his hand immediately going to his belt and hastily unfastening it before pulling down his zipper and opening his pants. With a smooth motion, he shoves them down, along with his briefs, revealing his impressive length that is now fully freed from its confines.
“Good girl,” he says with a charming smile, the same one that no doubt woos women and makes him so well-liked in high society. “Open your mouth, Evie. Show me just how ready you are to take my cock.” His words may be crude, but they only serve to further fuel the fire within me. So, without hesitation, I do as he says and open my mouth for him. Kenzo grips his thick shaft in one hand and reaches out with the other, gently guiding my head toward him. There’s no need for any more instructions; I’m not that na?ve or innocent.
I lean forward and wrap my lips around his throbbing head, relishing in the low moan that escapes him at my touch. But before I can do anything else, he stops me.
“No hands, firecracker,” he commands firmly when I reach up to stroke him. Obediently, I place my hands on my knees and take him deeper into my mouth. He fills me completely, stretching my jaw wide as I struggle not to gag. But when his cock hits the back of my throat, I can’t help but let out a small sound of discomfort.
“Swallow,” he demands sharply, pushing my head down until I choke. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, but I do as he says, taking him all the way in, despite the slight discomfort. “That’s it,” he praises, fisting my hair and holding me down on his cock with a firm grip. “Swallow and take me, Evaline. All the way.” His words are like a mantra to me, pushing me further into submission as I eagerly comply with his desires.
I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to fight back the urge to gag as I slowly take him into my mouth. It’s a struggle, each inch feeling like it might be too much for me to handle. But I push on, determined to prove myself to him. Finally, with one last gulp, I manage to get him down my throat, my nose brushing against the coarse curls at the base of his cock.
“Again,” he commands, thrusting harder and faster now. I have to quickly adapt to his size in my throat, my body straining to accommodate him. He releases my hair, and I bob down on his cock again, licking and sucking with everything I have. His hand comes up to my throat, holding me in place while the other grips the back of my head gently.
“Hold still,” he tells me, and I freeze as he begins thrusting upward, using me like a personal toy. I swallow as best as I can, tears streaming down my cheeks from the effort. My hands clench tightly in my lap, resisting the urge to reach out for him.
He continues fucking my face relentlessly until finally pulling himself out with a groan of frustration and cursing in Japanese. Confused but obedient, I wipe at my face self-consciously, aware of the drool that has gathered there.
“Come here, firecracker,” he says, helping me to stand up. His large hands glide up my legs and under my dress until they reach my panties. Hooking his thumb in the elastic band, he pulls them down and lets them fall around my ankles. A tap on my leg prompts me to step out of them.
Bringing me back toward him, he pushes my dress up over my hips to expose me completely. His fingers slip between my wet folds, and I gasp when he taps on the small plug inside me.
“You’re such a good little girl for obeying me,” he praises, making me even wetter. He tugs gently on the tail of the plug and removes it, setting it on the table. “So wet and ready.” My clit throbs at his touch.
Closing his knees, he grips his cock again, now glistening with my saliva.
“Come and ride me,” he orders, his voice low and commanding. I step forward and straddle his lap, feeling the heat of his body against mine. The anticipation builds as I align his cock with my aching pussy, still sore from our earlier encounter but craving him, nonetheless.
“Put me inside you.” His hands grip my hips tightly as he guides me down onto his length. I wince at the stretch, the burn becoming almost too much to bear. “Lower.”
“I can’t,” I pant, the pain shooting through me. But Kenzo shows no mercy, gripping my hips even tighter and yanking me down onto his lap. I bite my lip until I taste metal, trying to stifle my cries of pleasure mingled with pain.
“That’s it,” he grunts, his breathing growing ragged as I impale myself on him. “Now do as I say and ride me.” He lifts my hips, showing me how to move on top of him. With each thrust, his length grazes my clit, sending bursts of pleasure coursing through me.
“Fuck, just like that, my utsukushī bakuchiku .” His head falls back in ecstasy as I ride him harder and faster, my thighs trembling with the effort. My inner walls clench around him as I inch closer to release.
I grab on to his shoulders for support as I swivel and grind against him, seeking my own pleasure. But Kenzo’s words send shivers down my spine. He plans to fuck me in every hole on our wedding night. The thought alone drives me wild with desire.
“Evaline,” he groans, biting into the junction of my neck and shoulder. The sharp pain only intensifies the pleasure coursing through me, and soon, I am tumbling off the edge into bliss.
“Kenzo!” I cry out his name like a prayer, my body shaking with each wave of pleasure. He matches my movements, thrust for thrust, until we both reach our peak.
As the pleasure fades into a steady hum, I am brought back to reality by Kenzo’s proud grin. Without missing a beat, he continues to thrust into me until his release washes over him.
With a grunt, he falls forward, his lips pressing against my neck. His cock twitches inside me as his hot cum coats my walls. I’m grateful that I got the Depo shot not long ago. I wouldn’t want anything to ruin this moment.
He pulls away from me, his expression unsure and vulnerable for a brief moment before his mask is back in place.
“Good girl,” he whispers before kissing me deeply. His kiss is possessive and full of raw passion, contradicting his earlier claims of never loving me. But in this moment, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the fire between us and the explosive pleasure we share.
“Everyone probably heard me orgasm,” I whisper, mortified. Kenzo smirks as he lifts me from his lap.
“Good.” He chuckles darkly. “Then they will all know who you belong to.”
If only that were true. Because as much as he says that I belong to him, it is only my body he wishes to own.
That’s fine. Because my body is all I’m offering. Kenzo Nakamura can never have my heart, because if I give it to him, he will only give it back in pieces.