"Can you believe it? The gall of that guy," muttered Haru as she leaned toward the mirror, to reapply her lipstick. "He thinks he can ask me out and then tell me to pay for half of the bill? That jackass is lucky I didn't upend my drink on him. God, the men these days."
Her friend giggled and powdered her narrow, thin nose with a white powder that made her face even more garishly pale. Coupled with her bright red eyeshadow and lipstick, she looked like a ghost. "What a moron. Speaking of which, did you see who came to work this morning? The hulking giraffe is back in town."
Ten guesses as to which hulking giraffe they were referring to and the first nine don't count.
Haru snorted as she pulled out a compact from her handbag. "Yeah. I saw her stuffing her face in the canteen. Good thing she's a giraffe; otherwise, she'd be a hippo from all the food she eats."
"And that nasty twat, Ayaka, hovering over the giantess like she thinks she can protect her," continued Haru with another snort. "God, it makes me sick. Do you remember the way she screamed at me over that stupid spilled cup of grade soda? What a bitch."
"Pomegranate," I muttered under my breath, my face practically smashed against the gap between the door and the frame. "It was pomegranate soda, you horrid woman."
Her friend shot her a sideways glance through the mirror. "Are you sure you didn't mean to pour the soda all over that walking tree?"
Ouch, walking tree. Like I haven't heard that one about a million times before.
With a sudden snap that made me jump, Haru slapped her compact shut and turned to lean a hip against the sink, her arms crossed. "Will you quit asking me that? I keep telling you guys I didn't mean to do it. Someone jostled me from the side, and I almost fell over her. Trust me, that sweater getting ruined was the best possible solution." Her face darkened. "Although you wouldn't know it by how they yelled at me. They made me the bad guy. Wonder what they would've said if I face planted into her chest."
Her friend giggled. "A lesbian?"
Haru sighed and rolled her eyes before turning to the mirror to inspect her perfectly plucked brows. "If I'm going to turn into a lesbian, trust me, it's not going to be for that giraffe."
Right back at you, sister.
They clomped out of the bathroom in their mile-high stilettos, and I finally relaxed, breathing again.
I waited a few more heartbeats to make sure they weren't going to come back in before I eased myself off the toilet seat, my legs cramped from staying in one position for too long.
It had been an interesting conversation, a very interesting one, as far as Haru's motives went.
Was she all bark and no bite?
The sweater in question was ruined, but if everything had turned out to be an accident…
I walked back to the office in a state of confusion, wondering if all the rumors I heard about Haru were just that; rumors, concocted by people who didn't like her. Admittedly, she made it easy to dislike her, with her caustic nature and almost too promiscuous clothing for the workplace, but if she wasn't a bad person in reality…
I shook my head as I sat back at my computer, the sounds of Nobuki typing and talking on his Bluetooth earpiece echoing in my mind.
I didn't have the mind space to worry whether Haru was evil or not. All I needed to do was get through the next four hours. Unfortunately, those four hours seemed more like twenty, as my eyelids fluttered from such a big lunch.
After slapping myself on the cheek a few times, hard enough to make my skin tingle, I turned back to getting through the rest of the day without passing out in a carb induced coma.
With a bag of melon-flavored koala snacks by my keyboard, I managed to get through the next few hours.
At four, the phone rang, and I answered it automatically, cradling the receiver between my neck and shoulder as I went over a print-out of Nobuki's schedule for the remainder of the day.
"Foreign Marketing Office. Rika speaking. How may I help you?" I didn't even have to think about the words; I had said them about a couple thousand times since I started working here.
"I'm looking for Nobuki Miyano," cooed a soft, sultry voice that, for some reason, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand stiff at attention. "Would you transfer me to him?"
"May I ask who's speaking?"
She laughed softly. "Can't you just send me over to him, please?"
Hah, yeah right. Even if she wasn't an extremely sexy-sounding woman trying to talk to my very handsome boss, I didn't send everyone over who asked for Nobuki. "I'm sorry, but that is against company policy. May I ask your name so I can let him know who's calling?"
She sighed and clicked her tongue. "I suppose there's no use in saying he'd be interested in talking to me?"
"Not if he doesn't know who you are, ma'am."
She sighed again. "Oh, very well. Tell him we last met under the moon of the seventh month."
I blinked and stared at the phone receiver. "Sorry, is this some kind of joke?"
"I assure you, this is no joke. Relay that message to him."
I shook my head, impressed at her audacity. "Is there some reason why you can't give me your name? Otherwise, I can't send you over to Mr. Miyano."
"Privacy reasons," she said and the feminine voice took on an edge. She was getting impatient, which was fine by me. I was impatient three minutes ago when she first refused to give her name.
Massaging my temples, I decided the least I could do was propose Nobuki speak with this woman. At best, he'd tell me to hang up on her and if that happened, well, it was no one's fault but this mysterious woman who refused to share her name.
Or didn't want Nobuki to know who it was.
"Please stay on the line," I said, wishing I could put her on hold forever until she gave up.
I walked over to Nobuki's open door and knocked briefly on the frame, pulling his gaze away from the computer monitor.
"What is it?" he asked curtly. "I'm busy."
I licked my lips, feeling a twinge between my legs where he had been less than twenty-four hours ago.
It was hard to believe from our interaction, from his tone that we were lovers. Which was probably just as well. "There's a woman on the other line for you."
"What's her name?"
"She wouldn't give it. She said something about meeting you under the moon in…the seventh month? July? She met you at night in July?"
Nobuki's gaze met mine over the computer monitor. There was no change in his face, nor his eyes.
Just a slight stiffening of his shoulders and his hands curled into fists.
"I see," he said and picked up his phone. "Send her over. And close the door."
"Of course, Mr. Miyano."
I nodded and closed the door behind me with a faint click.
As I sent the call over to his phone, I glanced at the closed door, more than a little alarmed.
The first and only time he had done such a thing was when he first started working here although it had been obvious that he had slammed the door in my face to make a point.
After all, I did call security on him, because I couldn't believe someone who looked like an angel could take a job that had traditionally been filled by aging, balding men with obsessions for their executive assistants.
Wait a second.
He was the Foreign Marketing Manager now.
And I was the executive assistant.
And we were doing exactly the same thing I used to revile in those who had been in our positions.
With that unsettling thought bouncing around in my mind, I stared at the phone, wondering who the woman was and what she wanted with Nobuki.
If I lifted the receiver and put it to my ear…
No, it would be a bad idea to eavesdrop. I sat on my left hand long enough for the urge to go away.
I ended up sitting on that hand while I typed awkwardly with the other, all the while studiously avoiding looking at the phone and that almost irrepressible urge to press one little button and hear the entirety of their c
onversation.
But I didn't. I was a professional, regardless of what the heck I was doing with my boss, and if I couldn't show my professionalism in a situation like this, what good was I?
Besides, it didn't matter, right?
I mean, it's not like Nobuki and I were going out. And even if we were, if I couldn't respect or trust a man enough to get suspicious every time a mysterious woman called, I had no right being with him anyways.
Fifteen minutes later, I spotted a flurry of movement in the frosted glass windows of his office and he opened the door, pulling on his black blazer.
I stood up so fast, I almost upset my canned coffee into my lap. "Is everything all right, Mr. Miyano?"
"I'm going out."
I tried to smile. "I see no indication in your schedule that says you have a meeting tonight."
He paused by my desk, and I struggled not to take a step back in the face of the arrogant chill that emanated from his dark eyes. "Miss Hasegawa?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yes, sir."
"This has nothing to do with you," he said, going through the letters in my in-box. "Mind your own business, hmm?"
My face heated and my mouth numbed at his sharp tone. All I could do was watch him stride out, his steps sure and confident on the marble outside.
I leaned over my desk and watched him walk down to the elevators and turn a sharp right to the emergency stairs.
Seriously? He wasn't going to wait for the elevator, and would rather use the stairs instead? How much of a rush was he in if he'd rather walk down thirteen flights?
After the emergency staircase door slammed shut, I fell into my seat, the wheels rolling back from the sudden weight of my body.
Mind your own business.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, unable to stop trembling.
Had it been my fault?
Was I not supposed to ask him?
Had I overstepped the professional boundaries by asking him where he was going?
Maybe it was none of my business, but as I went through his daily schedule book and saw there was nothing planned for this afternoon, I knew with growing certainty the mysterious woman on the phone and his abrupt departure was connected.
And he had closed his door…something so damn unusual that I found myself staring at the open doorway, the lights dark. The office seemed strangely quiet and lonely without his constant presence. I sighed, trying to tell myself that everything was okay, that I still had another two hours to go before I could bury my shame in a convenient pillow.
The two hours could not come soon enough.
If you asked me what I did for those remaining two hours, I don't think I could have given you a good answer. I'm sure I got some work finished, because what else could I have done? It didn't even occur to me to sneak in some reading, like I would have in the past. I just wanted the clock to hit five o'clock so I could go home.
Drained didn't even begin to describe my state of mind.
As soon as the minute hand hit the number twelve, I was so out of there. I took the packed bus, holding onto the hand straps, ignoring the stares from old people I always got if I wasn't sitting down, and stumbled off at my stop, my soles scraping on the asphalt.
I didn't even make it to my apartment. After I handed the empty Tupperware to my mother, who asked that I stay for dinner, I mumbled something along the lines of assent and collapsed head first on the sofa.
I only woke up when my father shook my shoulders gently.
Groggy, emerging from a dream I forgot as soon as I opened my eyes, I swiped at my damp mouth. "What time is it?"
"Eight," he said. "You've been working too hard. I don't think I've seen you so tired."
I rolled over on my back, rubbing sleep dust from my eyes. "It's nothing, Dad. I'm fine, don't worry."
His response was a slight tightening of the space between his brows, and he nodded over to the kitchen. "Your mother's kept dinner warm for you. You should eat before going to sleep; otherwise, you'll be useless tomorrow."
"Thanks, Dad," I said and staggered upright, hands braced on my hips as I stretched.
"Don't work too hard." He turned on the TV. "Health is the only thing you've got and once you ruin that, even money can't help you."
My mother stood at the sink, peeling garlic as I sat down at the kitchen table. "Ready for dinner? Sit down, I'll serve you."
"Mom," I protested. "It's okay. I can do it."
She gave me a severe look. "I said, sit."
I did as she ordered.
She had a place set up for me in less than five minutes, heating a piece of grilled fish, some miso soup and a small plate of pickled vegetables, with a steaming hot bowl of white rice that made my mouth water.
The moment my mother put the food in front of me, I realized how hungry I was and ate ravenously, not talking, barely even aware of her watching me as she continued to peel garlic at the sink.
She didn't talk until I finished the last drop of the miso soup and laid down my chopsticks with a satisfied sigh, reaching for the small cup of hot barley tea that was a mainstay at the dinner table. Hot barley tea in the winter and spring, and cold barley tea in the summer and autumn. My sister used to say you could always tell what season it was by the temperature of our tea.
"I didn't get to say goodbye to Saki last Sunday," I mumbled, the sounds of a game show with canned laughter echoing through the house. "I didn't want her to go like that. Who knows when I'll see her again?"
My mother clucked her tongue as she finished with the garlic, leaving them piled in a white mound by the sink. She came to sit across from me, wiping her hands on a tattered dish cloth. "You know what she's like. Your sister has always been a bit, well, single-minded."
I sighed, rolling the steaming cup in between my palms. "You mean, after she got me to agree to go on a date with her old high-school classmate, she wanted nothing more to do with me."
"She just wants what's best for you, Rika," my mother said in a vaguely chastising voice. "She's grown up thinking she has to protect you."
I snorted. "Even though I'm so much bigger than her. Like the ant guarding the elephant, isn't it?"
She smiled. "Well, we've always thought your height would have suited her attitude and your attitude would have suited her height."
Saki with her larger-than-life personality and my practically larger-than-life height…it was a potent combination and not a little intimidating. "Maybe it's a good thing that didn't happen."
Mom laughed. "You should have heard her bragging about this man she's set you up with. She wouldn't stop talking about him."
"If she likes him so much, she should take him instead," I muttered.
My mother reached over and smoothed the hair behind my ear. "Can I ask you something?"
It was so rare that she would ask me for permission to ask a question, and I stared at her in confusion.
"Your father and I…well, we have always tried to give you freedom, so we don't like to ask about your personal life, at least, beyond what you'll tell us."
I nodded, perplexed where this train of conversation was going. "Okay."
She grimaced, her hands tightening in the worn wash cloth. "I hope you don't think we're prying."
"Mom, just say it. What's wrong?"
She stood up suddenly and grabbed a cup from the dish drainer, concentrating on pouring herself some tea, as though she couldn't meet my gaze. "We noticed you came home late last night."
I blinked, at a total loss for words.
My mom's mouth flickered into a nervous smile. "If you have something you don't or can't talk to us about, that's fine. But we're always here for you."
I cleared my suddenly thick throat. God, I was the luckiest person in the world, to have such parents. I didn't know what I had done in my past life to get this level of comfort and love, but it had to have been no less than saving a country from plunging into revolution. Or starting one. "Mom, it's not a big deal. I'm just surprised you
were up so late. Or early."
"Your father was watching the soccer game. You know how much he loves Japanese soccer."
I got up and wrapped my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head. "Thanks for worrying. I went to meet Ayaka. She drank too much, and I took care of her."
My mother drew back enough for me to see the worry in her brown eyes. "Ayaka? Ayaka Sono? The girl you work with? Is she okay?"
I nodded and squeezed her one more time, breathing in deep her chamomile and lavender scent, the chamomile from her facial toner and the lavender from her shampoo. "Yeah. She got dumped by some guy who wanted to get married. She didn't, of course."
Her brows furrowed as she sipped from the steaming cup. "We don't want to pressure you into getting married, my dear."
Oh God, we weren't having this conversation, were we? "I know, you've been good about not bugging me. Everyone else is complaining about their parents bothering them about getting married and having kids."
My mother looked thoughtful, swirling the contents of her cup in one hand. "Have you thought about it?"
"It?"
"Getting married? Having children."
I shook my head, noting the flicker of consternation on her faintly lined brow. "Honestly, I have a hard enough time concentrating on my job. I don't have the time to worry about marriage. How can I have kids? I'm barely responsible enough for me. I mean, you're still packing my lunch. I love that you do, but don't you feel like that's a sign I can't take care of myself right now?"
She sighed, staring down at her tea. "You know Mrs. Miura down the street? Her daughter is getting married to this fabulously wealthy banker, and you should've seen the way she was rubbing it in everyone's face at the bathhouse a few days ago."
I looked at my mom, surprised. "Are you jealous?"
She smiled at me somewhat ruefully and yet there was a tinge of pain in her voice that made my chest tighten. "Sometimes I do think about Saki's marriage and then you. Your father and I won't be here forever. We don't want you two to be alone."
I clenched my jaw and told myself I wouldn't start bawling for making my mom sound so disappointed. "We're not alone. We have each other."
His Until Dawn (Kissing the Boss Book 3) Page 5
