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Connor hesitates. “Are you sure?”
It feels like we’re walking on eggshells with each other, trying not to ruin this thing. This weekend. Whatever it is.
“Yes,” I tell him firmly, nodding. “It’s fine. Go, and we’ll have the rest of the evening and tomorrow when you come back.”
“Alright.” Connor dips to give me a quick kiss, as easily as if he’s used to touching me with casual affection as if it’s no big deal to him.
He goes to shower, and I sink onto the bed, plucking at the spandex fabric of my leggings. Now that I have a little space, I can’t help but wonder who it is that he’s going to see—he’d never mentioned a friend in Tokyo, not even when I said this was where we were going. But it’s hardly as if he tells me everything. In fact, I’d be willing to guess that my husband keeps far more from me than he actually shares.
When Connor comes back out, he dresses quickly in slacks and a button-down shirt, his auburn hair dark and slicked back from the shower. “That’s fancy for meeting a friend,” I say innocuously, and he shoots me an irritated look.
“I texted him while I was in the bathroom. We’re meeting at a nice restaurant.”
The fact that he gave me an explanation at all is surprising. Back home, Connor would have told me to mind my own business. I know I should appreciate it, but more than anything, it just feels strange, like he’s sharing more with me withoutreallysharing anything at all.
He drops a quick kiss on my lips. “I’ll be back in plenty of time for our romantic evening,” he promises. “In fact, I can’t wait.”
Italmostsounds sincere. And as I watch him leave, the steam from his shower still wafting out into the room, I feel another of those tight aches in my chest.
This is all going to be over soon. But I wish I could hang onto it for so much longer.
8
CONNOR
Ihadn’t been sure at first how I’d manage to arrange to meet with Nobura and Kaito Nakamura, but it had turned out to be easier than I’d thought. I’d expected Saoirse to be irritated and put out that I wanted to spend any part of our “honeymoon” or “babymoon” or whatever this trip is away from her, but she’d been surprisingly agreeable.
Maybe she’s finally starting to realize this thing, whatever it is, isn’t sustainable. Maybe she’s glad for some time alone.
That thought shouldn’t make me feel a flicker of disappointment, and I push it aside as I get into the car that will take me to the Nakamura house just outside of Tokyo. The potential for this meeting was the only reason I’d agreed to Saoirse’s spontaneous, harebrained decision to go on this trip in the first place. Even if she’s forgotten about it, I know she wondered at the time why I’d suddenly agreed.
This is why. I need more allies if I’m going to successfully take over the Kings and hold them. The Yakuza would be an excellent addition to our business alliances and a significant coup for me since they’re notoriously difficult to negotiate with.
Remember why you’re really doing all of this,I chastise myself as I lean back in the cool, dim car, the scent of leather and upholstery cleaner surrounding me. This trip isn’t about Saoirse or our relationship or even really getting her pregnant. The lack of stress and distraction here might be helpful, but in the end, we could work towards that end just as well in Boston as here. The affection between us last night and today has been pleasant, but it’s a distraction I don’t need.
I would never allow myself to let down all of my walls around any other business partner or ally. No matter how long I work with Viktor, Luca, or anyone else, I’ll always keep one eye on them and be on guard for signs of betrayal. It should be the same with Saoirse. She came to me with a proposal, and in the end, what we’ve signed is just another kind of business arrangement. One that she could try to alter or betray if it suited her. One that she could manipulate to her own ends, just as she did to get me here in the first place.
I can’t forget who she is, who she’s been raised to be, and who her father is. Saoirse has greed, power, and manipulation running through her very veins, and I can’t afford to be vulnerable or weak with someone like that. It could very well get me killed.
Just as I can’t afford to let my affection for my brother weaken my judgment.
The Nakamura House is stately and grand, built in the old Japanese architecture style with a stone courtyard and fountain. My car is greeted by three black-suited men who wordlessly escort me through it to the front door of the house, where I’m left waiting in a minimalist room with light-colored flooring, paneled walls, and old-fashioned Japanese art. A set of samurai armor is at the far end of one wall, and somewhere in the house, I think I hear the growl of a large animal, almost like the sound of a big cat—a tiger or leopard.
That seems ridiculous, though.
One of the paneled doors opens only minutes later, and an elderly Japanese gentleman with thinning black hair steps through. His age shows on his face, but his posture and bearing are still straight and elegant, and there’s an unmistakable air of power about him.
I incline my head respectfully. “Nakamura-sama. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice. Will your son be joining us?”
“My son is late,” Nobura says sharply. “But he will be joining us. I am pleased to meet you, McGregor-san. I had the honor of meeting your late father in the past. I regret that he made such poor choices later in life.”
“As do all the remaining members of his family,” I say wryly. “I hope to not repeat them.”
“Hmm. This way, McGregor-san.” Nobura gestures, and I follow him through the paneled doors to the right into an office. It’s more modern than the rest of the house, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on the far wall, a large mahogany desk in front of them, and a dark leather couch and chairs. The room has dark wood paneling and antiques scattered throughout it. It smells heavily of wood and leather polish and cigar smoke.
“Do you smoke?” Nobura settles into one of the leather armchairs rather than going behind his desk, reaching for a cigar box. He shakes a small bell as he does so, and as I open my mouth to accept the offer of a cigar, the door slides open again to reveal a beautiful woman wearing a silk tunic and leggings, with black hair braided down to the small of her slender back.
“Sake, please, Aiya.” Nobura opens the cigar box, proffering it to me, and I take one out, holding it between my fingers.