Schooled

by Lorelei James

  dresses remaining in the closet. Both were demure. One was almost girlish with its floral pattern and the layers of flowing ruffles. The other was just a simple little black dress. Acceptable but boring.

  Ronin crowded beside her. He snagged her dark gray pencil skirt from the hanger, her ivory lace camisole and her peach chiffon blouse. “You are smoking hot in this outfit. It’s sexy and yet professional enough to wear to work. Wear those black stiletto heels with the ankle strap.”

  She kissed his smooth cheek. “Thank you.” After dressing, she was in the bathroom applying her last coat of mascara when Ronin moved in behind her. “Almost ready, I swear.”

  He grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged until she angled her neck to his liking. His eyes stayed intent on hers in the mirror as he pressed his lips to the side of her throat.

  As much as she’d loved his tenderness last night, Amery also needed this. Ronin reminding her of his dominant nature. “Close your eyes, baby,” he murmured against her skin.

  The instant she did, he slipped something around her neck.

  “Now you can look.”

  Amery opened her eyes. Then she leaned closer to the mirror. The necklace, weighted in the middle with a gold curlicue twist, fell below the hollow of her throat. Centered on either side of the charm were colored stones, anchored by two chains, one in rose gold and one in black that were twisted together to create the single chain. “Ronin. This is stunning.”

  “It’s an infinity symbol. A reminder we’re entwined together forever. The stones are peach sapphires, which signify eternal passion. I chose rose gold for the finish because it reminds me of your hair.” He kissed the back of her head. “The black chain—”

  “Looks like rope,” she finished. “And it’s black because our last name is Black.”

  “Yes.” He ran his finger down the twisted chain. “Do you like it?”

  God. It took all of her self-control not to burst into tears because it was just so damn perfect. “Well, it’s no kanji carved into your skin, but it’ll do for now.”

  He chuckled. “Glad you approve.”

  “It’s . . . I don’t know if there are any words for how special this is to me. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Since you rarely let me buy you gifts I knew I had to make it count.”

  “You planned this?”

  “As soon as I knew we’d be coming to Tokyo.”

  Amery wreathed her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Her eyes were a little misty when she eased back. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” He rested his forehead to hers. “Thanks for last night.”

  It might be trite to say thanks for needing me, so rather than speaking she kissed him again. “My ears are always open.”

  “Good to know. Let’s go.”

  Ronin held her hand as they exited the apartment and headed to the elevator. Once inside he used a keycard and punched in an access code for the penthouse.

  “I see you learned your love of security measures from your grandfather.”

  “He’s way worse than I am. The top floor is only accessible by his private elevator.”

  Amery frowned at the lighted panel. “The fifty-first floor isn’t the top floor?”

  “Nope. This building has fifty-two floors. We’ll have to go through security and then take the stairs.”

  “I checked your sister’s apartment like she asked me to.” Shiori’s place was twice as big as Ronin’s, but that wasn’t the surprise. The surprise was the cozy, English-cottage décor, so feminine and welcoming. The apartment Shiori rented in Denver defined austere.

  Ronin gave her an odd look. “Why would she ask you to do that?”

  She shrugged. “She handed me a key before we left and asked if I’d mind doing a walk-through while I was in the building. So I did. Nice place.” Although, Amery didn’t poke around much, afraid she might actually find the Hello Kitty whip collection Shiori had mentioned.

  The elevator doors opened and two huge, mean-looking dudes waited for them. Their postures became only slightly less menacing when they realized Nureki Okada’s grandson had arrived. They merely pointed up the marble staircase when Ronin inquired after his grandfather.

  Once they were out of earshot, Amery murmured, “Jenko, Shiori’s bodyguard, was downright jovial compared to them.”

  “It’s not an act either. They will fuck you up if you’re even remotely considered a threat to Ojisan.”

  She tightened her hand around Ronin’s when they reached the top of the stairs. “Speaking of . . . what am I supposed to call him? I don’t know protocol for this. He’s Ojisan to you. Okada is his surname so do I call him Mr. Okada? Because it seems presumptive on my part to call him Nureki.”

  Ronin stopped and loomed over her. “Amery, do not freak yourself out about this. If you make a misstep, my mother will correct you. Ojisan is a shark. He smells fear on you he’ll zero in on it.”

  Now her panic really kicked in.

  “But remember, baby. You’re here with me. I’d never allow my grandfather to disrespect you. Part of the reason we came early is so you can meet him without an audience.”

  “Promise me you’ll translate everything he says and you won’t editorialize it.”

  “I promise.”

  Shiori had told Amery previously her grandfather spoke English but pretended he didn’t. It gave him an advantage when companies conversed in English, assuming he didn’t understand.

  Opulent was too tame a word to describe the entire space they entered. Gold and marble were everywhere. The prices of the rugs alone could probably feed an entire country.

  Don’t gawk and for godsake don’t whip out your cell phone and snap a selfie in front of the gold-plated sea turtle sculpture.

  “I hear the wheels churning,” Ronin murmured. “What are you thinking about?”

  “What was it like to come to a place like this to visit your grandfather when you were young?”

  “Ojisan didn’t live here when I was a kid. This building is only ten years old. Believe it or not, my mother managed to talk him out of even gaudier furnishings than this. He has a need for people to know he has money.”

  “Then there’s his minimalist grandson.”

  He shrugged. “Another point of contention between us.”

  “Because you can’t be bought.” As soon as she’d said it she wished she could take it back.

  The muscle in Ronin’s jaw flexed. “He tried. When actual money didn’t work he set me up with Naomi. Making me think I’d found . . .”

  Acceptance. A woman who loved him and understood all sides of him.

  Those scars in him ran deep, which just told her how lonely and unlovable he must’ve felt before his ex, Naomi, entered the picture.

  Then and there Amery made a silent promise to him. You’ll never be lonely again, Ronin. Not a day will go by that you won’t know—and believe—how much you are loved.

  “Now I need a fucking drink.”

  Amery squeezed his forearm. “Huh-uh, ninja. You’re not leaving me alone. Let’s do this.”

  Nureki Okada didn’t like having his picture taken so she’d only seen a couple grainy shots of him online. She wouldn’t know who he was until she was introduced to him.

  “At least he’s not surrounded by his harem,” Ronin muttered.

  “What? You were serious about his multiple mistresses?”

  “Yes. Ojisan is a player. Or he was.” A sneaky smile spread across Ronin’s face. “Probably why he hated it so much when I joined an all-male martial arts school.”

  “Because you couldn’t go out and pick up chicks with him?”

  He snorted. “Hardly. But he did want to build me in his image.”

  They reached the group of three in front of the windows. Her mouth dried and her palms itched when she realized this was the moment.

  Tamara turned around and smiled. “So glad you could come early.”

  The man to Tamara’s le
ft was her age or a little younger. Then Amery glanced at the man to Tamara’s right.

  Shrewd brown eyes much like Ronin’s assessed her. She assessed him right back. This man couldn’t be in his eighties. He looked a good twenty years younger than that. It was obvious Ronin had inherited some of his looks from his grandfather. With his silver hair he looked like an older version of Ken Watanabe. A meaner version. Even when his hands rested on a cane, his posture remained regal.

  Ronin’s warm hand pressed into the small of her back. “Ojisan. I’d like to introduce my wife, Amery. Amery, my grandfather, Nureki Okada.” Then he repeated the words in Japanese.

  He inclined his head rather than bowing.

  Amery bowed, happy she didn’t have to shake his hand or else he’d notice how much her entire body was shaking. “I’m happy to finally meet the man who’s had such a huge impact on my husband’s life.”

  Ronin translated.

  His grandfather responded.

  This exchange went on for a minute or so.

  Before Tamara or the other guy she’d introduced as Inichi Matso could start cocktail chitchat, Ronin’s grandfather smacked his cane on the floor, grabbing everyone’s attention.

  Both Ronin and Tamara’s postures stiffened.

  “I tire of the translation game. Tell me, Amery, how an unknown graphic arts company in a small U.S. market landed such a prestigious contract with one of the largest Asian food conglomerates in the world?”

  No softball “How are you enjoying Japan?” question from the billionaire business mogul. Whatever you do, don’t stammer. “I believe you already know that story. I met your grandson and created new logos for Black Arts. He was happy enough to throw my company’s name out to Okada’s Seattle office. I got the go-ahead to do the mock-up for the new campaign, and Hardwick Designs blew all the other competition out of the water.”

  “You believe your company is the best?”

  Baiting her. Not nice. “With all due respect, sir, my company was the best for that particular project for Okada Foods.”

  Silence lingered a beat too long as he studied her.

  She would not crack.

  Finally he inclined his head again. “I happen to agree. It was fine design work.”

  Holy. Shit. A compliment? “Thank you.”

  “Do you share Ronin’s obsession with martial arts?”

  “God, no. Seeing how much he has to train makes me tired. But it’s his calling and I’ll support him in whatever he does.”

  “Do you like dogs?”

  What the hell? “As pets? I like dogs better than snakes. But my favorite animal is an antelope.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they can outrun any predators. At the first sign of danger they’re gone.”

  Ronin spoke sharply to him in Japanese.

  He waved him off. “My grandson does not approve of my approach in getting to know you.”

  Amery didn’t look away from his shrewd gaze. “My husband tends to be protective of me. Especially since you have a reputation of following your own agenda.”

  After a brief pause, he smiled. “Better to enforce my own agenda than follow someone else’s.”

  Yikes. “I don’t have an agenda, so you don’t have to worry about whether I’m a leader or a follower.”

  “Let’s have a drink,” Tamara said. The instant she raised her hand two waiters hustled over. She rattled off drink orders. Then she looked at Amery. “What are you having?”

  Ronin’s grandfather chided his daughter. He beckoned over a bruiser of a man who’d been stationed behind them and issued instructions. Whatever he’d said put a look of shock on both Tamara’s and Ronin’s faces.

  Tamara quickly recovered and ushered her father to a table while Matso followed the security guy.

  Had she just witnessed a family fight? “What’s going on?”

  “Ojisan has one of the finest collections of whiskey in the world. And he just told his head of security to fetch the Macallan Cire Perdue and four glasses.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We’re about to get a taste of the most expensive whiskey ever made.”

  His voice was tinged with awe.

  Over some old booze? Weird. But she figured she needed to at least act properly awed too. “Why?”

  “We’re about to find out.”

  The precious whiskey arrived in a special bottle handcrafted by a secret sect of French monks or some crazy thing. The glasses the sixty-four-year-old scotch would be poured into were specially created for the sipping pleasure of the Macallan.

  The Okada patriarch held his glass aloft for a toast. “Congratulations to Ronin and Amery. I wish you many years of joy together.”

  She sipped, unprepared for the explosion of flavors on her tongue. She looked at Ronin and her eyes narrowed. Hey. The man wore that same expression of ecstasy during an orgasm.

  He managed to choke out, “Ojisan, thank you for sharing this with us.”

  “My pleasure. It’s not every day I get to welcome the wife of ichiban no mago into our family.”

  Amery whispered, “What does ee-chee-bon no mah-go mean?”

  “Number one grandson.” He touched his glass to hers. “But not even I rate a dram from a half-a-million-dollar bottle of whiskey. This is all about you. You passed the official Nureki Okada inspection and that is something worth celebrating.”

  As soon as guests began to arrive Tamara switched into hostess mode. Although Ronin reminded his mother not to separate him and Amery during the party, she knew it was inevitable.

  She half expected Ronin’s grandfather to corner her at some point during the party. So when he finally did, she was prepared for it.

  Or so she thought.

  Tamara rescued her. “That looked like an intense conversation. Was he harassing you?”

  “Not at all,” she lied. She hoped Ronin would see the humor in the situation when she told him that his Ojisan had offered her a million dollars in cash if she got pregnant in the next three months. Rather than being offended that he tried to buy her off, she’d teased the manipulative man that her womb wasn’t for sale.

  Since the party was still going strong, they were able to leave without any fanfare or guilt.

  In their bedroom Ronin stripped and fell into bed.

  By the time Amery finished removing her makeup, her husband seemed dead to the world. “Ronin?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Are you awake?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “I know we didn’t get a chance to talk about this today, but I’ve decided where we’re going for the ‘anything I want’ night out you promised me.”

  Ronin didn’t respond.

  She poked him. “Are you listening to me?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Wait a second. Did he just snore? “Ronin?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Baby, spread your legs,” she cooed. “I want your cock in my mouth. Or are you too tired?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  She withheld a snort. The man had to be sleeping. He never turned down a blow job.