Page 33

SNEAK PEEK

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Chapter One

Kori

Unremarkable.

Business cards should be unremarkable. It should have a name, address, and phone number.

Harmless.

Innocent.

Easily dismissed.

Yet the small square in my hand is anything but. I stare at it again. Rather the note on the back.

My house. 9 P.M.

No words have ever been more thrilling and threatening at once.

I shouldn’t have come. There’s still time to turn the ignition and back out before he knows I’m here. The guards at the gate know me and wouldn’t need to call ahead to grant me entrance, would they?

Whether they did or not doesn’t matter. If I slink away now, I’ll prove everyone right. I’m not a fighter. I give up and give in too easily. Worst of all, I let people walk over me and never stand up for myself.

I take a steadying breath. Tonight things will be different.

Tonight, I fight for myself.

I bang my head against the steering wheel. Why does this have to be the first step?

No, the better question is why I ever let myself fall for Zach Klimkofski. Oh, yeah, his smile. Never have I ever been drawn to a set of the whitest, straightest teeth than the first time Zach smiled at me in culinary school when he asked to borrow my paring knife. Without knowing much about him, I would have given him everything, even if I could barely afford my tuition.

But now I’m paying the price, my restaurant. For years I’ve busted my ass with food trucks and working as a private chef to save enough for my own restaurant. And my ex—ex-partner aka ex-boyfriend—wants to take my dream away from me because dumping me no longer entertains him.

Fuck Zach Klimkofski and his lying, cheating, betraying, back-stabbing ass!

A knock on my window startles a yelp out of me.

I wind the glass down. “Oh, hi, Ken.”

“Sorry, Kori. I didn’t recognize your car.”

Although Ken says the right words, his expression doesn’t change. It never does. I’ve known him for years. Even in the midst of people laughing and having a good time, he never cracks a smile. Sometimes I wonder if his face is actually a realistic mask to hide the real person underneath.

“Is there a problem? You’ve been inside your car a while.”

“Oh, you know.” My nervous laugh doesn’t change his expression, not that I expected it do. “Just thinking things through before heading inside.”

He peers at the house. “If he’s expecting you, it’s not a good idea to keep him waiting.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just need one more minute, then I’ll go inside.”

He nods, and although his expression doesn’t change, I sense his skepticism at my delay.

After he walks off, I breathe in and out until I scramble a little courage and hope it’s enough to get me through the next meeting.

At the entrance to the mini-mansion, there’s an envelope with my name. I open it to find instructions and a map.

Right. Why would he greet me at the door? He’s not the most welcoming person I know. Not all that communicative, either. He’s actually pretty damn terrifying.

Doubts assail me as I push the door open. Finding it unlocked in no way surprises me. I squash the questions in my head asking me if I really have no other choice, instead slipping out of my Merrills and walking on the sleek wooden floor in my socks.

Zach will have an army behind him. I need someone scarier. I need a monster with an equally large if not larger army behind him. A half-assed war is a losing war, and I have to be all in.

Dim lights lead me on the path highlighted on the map. The eerie stillness wears away at my resolve.

Coward!

This isn’t news. The smartest people in history are the ones who run. They always outlast the fighters, the activists, and the dissenters. And I’m a professional runner. I’m in Serenidad because I ran.

You not tired of splitting? Of giving up your life so everyone else succeeds?

I exhale, the only sound in this dreary hallway. I can’t hide from myself anymore. I built my restaurant, Dreams from Kokoro thinking I had a partner. I had only myself from the concept to execution. And if I could do everything to make it the success it became, I need to damn well fight for it.

I arrive at the door. I wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans, adjust my shirt and brush my hair over my shoulders before I’m ready to swing the door open.

With one foot inside, the voice I’ve dreaded says, “You’re late.”

I pull the rest of my body into the room, ignoring the way my heart leaps at his voice. I can never control this reaction, but I’m almost an expert at not letting it show. The room is an office, but nothing like other home offices I’ve seen. This is an exact replica of a lawyer’s downtown office. Legal tomes fill the shelves lining the walls. Heavy, expensive furniture and art are on display, though I can only sense them from their outlines. The only light comes from the desk in front of floor length curtains. I bet behind the drapes, there’s a magnificent view out of windows that reach up to the ceiling.

The only piece that doesn’t fit is the man leaning against the solid, wooden desk wearing an open silk robe and silk pajama pants. Nothing else. Nothing to hide the muscular chest beneath or how the muscles leap as the man takes a sip from a glass, or the silver rings hanging from his nipples. Soft light from his desk lamp enhance the play of shadows along his body, and I shouldn’t be noticing any of it.

“Sorry.” I avert my eyes, wishing I were anywhere but here and never saw his piercings.

Against my will, my skin flushes. This man is not supposed to inspire this reaction in me. He’s terrifying and I’ve never felt comfortable in his presence. Whenever he’s around, I sense he’s a second from pouncing and devouring me, but why?

I’m not in his type.

“What exactly are you sorry for?” he asks, placing his glass on the desk with a clink.

Even his voice, deep and dark and dangerous is a warning I don’t belong here.

“For making me wait? Or for drooling over me?”

“I did not…” I glare at him when my mouth refuses to repeat his accusation. “For being late. I apologize.”

He fixes me in his stare. Seconds tick by and I wonder if it’s too late to leave.

He nods and rounds his desk. “When you came to my office at lunch, I was too busy to hear you out. What do you need?” His voice, more business-like and brusque is more what I’m used to. He picks up a pen and twirls it while watching my every move.

I move closer, more like a deer on alert for predators. In a way I am. The man before me has a reputation. And although I want to relax now he’s hearing me out, I never put my guard all the way down. “I need help. The legal kind.” I round the chair in front of his desk and sit. “My business partner is trying to take my restaurant from me. I’ve worked my whole life to open Dreams from Kokoro, made so many sacrifices, and shed enough tears to fill an ocean. I can’t just let him swipe it from me.”

“So you want me to recommend counsel for you?”

“Not exactly.”

His cold response sets me back a little.

“I’m sure your network is extensive, but…” I stare at my hands. When had I squeezed them together? I shake them loose and meet his unwavering gaze. “The situation’s complicated. Not any lawyer will do.”

His brow rises, silently urging me to continue.

“My partner’s father is Nomads Air International’s founder.”

He doesn’t respond through a flinch or muscle tensing to what I think is startling news, considering I learned about the relationship this morning when Zach served me with papers to take over my company. Nomads rivals the giants in commercial air travel, and the founder has billions he’ll use to help Zach bury me.

“I need a lawyer with the same kind of resources the team Zach will hire has. I need you.”

He pinches his lips into a firm line. A pity, since he has full lips a lot of people would kill to have. His frown is the first real reaction he’s had since I entered the room.

“Can you afford me?”

“About that… I was hoping for a payment plan or another arrangement.You’ve known me for a while and can use my word as a guarantee.”

“Hmph.”

I don’t respond to his scoff, sensing doing so will not benefit me.

“You have another, bigger problem.”

“I do?” Other than being railroaded than a man I thought I would marry one day, what else am I overlooking.

“You have an image problem. That man’s family, like me, knows you can’t afford my full suite of services. My time is one thing, but I have a team, experts in many fields of law, investigations, and… other areas. They won’t see you as a threat.”

“Oh…”

He cants his head while studying me in my dejected state. “I could offer a solution to all these problems, but I have rules you’ll need to follow.”

I perk up, not ready to let an opportunity to keep my company pass. “I’ll do anything.” I inwardly cringe when I realize what I’ve said. Cue corny porn ultimatum in two.

“For the full suite of legal services, I’ll require you to be my personal chef. Live in and on call.”

I wait for the shoe to drop, but he doesn’t add anything. “Just your chef?”

“I’ll have high demands, they may challenge your abilities, make you want to quit, but yes, just my chef.”

So if I get the full treatment, I won’t have to worry about the other thing.”

For the first time since I’ve known the man, he smiles. “You truly are naive. You either do both or you get nothing. I only laid out the cost of the legal aspect first. There’s an entirely different price for making you into someone the Klimkofski family will fear.”

“Okay.” I close my eyes and breathe in deep gulps of oxygen. Now he’s going to drop the corny porn bomb. “What do I have to do?”

“Upgrade your status.”

I frown at the unexpected answer. “Tell me more.”

He steeples his fingers. One by one, he taps each against its pair. “The usual way to climb the social ladder is to marry someone from an equal or higher rung. In this case your groom should be higher than your ex’s.”

“Are you volunteering to play matchmaker? And how soon do you think this will last? He’s suing me now.”

“Not a problem. Lawyers delay suits all the time by drowning the other side in paperwork.”

“Oh, I’ve seen that tactic on TV.”

“Regardless, I have someone in mind for you already.”

“How do you know he’s willing?”

His rare smile makes another fleeting appearance. “He’s willing. He’s in a situation he can’t get out of himself without marrying someone.”

“Can’t we fake the marriage? Just buy a ring and tell everyone we eloped in Vegas?”

“No.”

I wait in silence for him to expound on his answer. As the seconds tick by, I realize he doesn’t intend to explain.

He looks toward the clock on the wall above my head. “I need an answer.”

“Now?”

His unyielding stare is his only response.

Do I have much choice? “Will there be a prenup?”

“Of course.”

“And I’ll have clauses to protect me and my company if we win the case.”

“Without a doubt.”

“Alright. I’m in.”

He stands, giving me the full frontal view of his chest again. And again I have to look anywhere but at him.

“So when do I meet him?”

“You already have.” He stands over me until I stand, finally realizing he’s dismissing me. He ushers me to the door. “I forgot, there is another thing.”

I stare up into his face, trying to hide the shiver running up my spine.

He’s too close. His cologne, rich, clean, and sensual, wraps around me, entices me to imagine the unimaginable.

I swallow with difficulty. “Oh?”

“Call me Masanori.”

“W-why?” My question comes out breathy and soft.

Please don’t make him draw conclusions I don’t want him to. It’s bad enough my body is on high alert while sensations Zach never inspired zip through me as we stand in Masanori’s darkened office. I can’t have the man wreaking havoc know it, too.

“How would it look to everyone if you refer to your own husband as Mr. Kimura?”