Then he saw her grinning. Guess he was wrong. She wasn’t as fragile as he thought she’d be. Lillian slid from the chair and huddled behind him. She clutched his jacket tightly, her eyes widening. There was no fear in her eyes. They were more…curious. Brandon motioned her to stay quiet. He pulled out his Glock, waiting.
Cacophonous sound exploded in the hall. Men shouted and the noise of the booth’s doors being kicked blasted to the ceilings. He heard whimpers and shouts of surprise from unsuspecting patrons. The men started to check out the booths. Brandon focused his attention. Listening. Counting. Calculating. Judging from the footsteps and the rackets those men were making, Brandon got a firm estimation that there were about four of them. When they kicked open this booth, he’d only have five seconds to take them all out. One second and a single bullet for each of them. Another spare second if his calculation was incorrect. But he never made a mistake. He was gifted in speed killing.
The footsteps approached. Somebody stood in front of their booth. Brandon readied his Glock. Here we go. Then he heard Donahue’s voice screeching in Japanese. An argument broke out. What the hell? Brandon listened. He felt Lillian inch closer and she wrapped an arm around his neck. Before he knew it, she fisted his hair and pulled his face towards her. Her mouth crushed his a heartbeat later.
What the…
He couldn’t think for a second. Her kiss wiped his mind blank. When he realised what she was doing to him, his instinct took over. Fire burned in his groin. Lust seared his veins. His cock jumped under pants, hardening. Lillian pushed open his mouth with her tongue. The sound of her low moan engulfed his body in a brimstone of sexual heat. He nibbled her back. Kissing her. Plundering her. He wanted to stop, but he couldn’t. He found himself lost in her eyes, lost in the sweetness of her lips, the ripe tender lips made for kissing, and the warmth of her fair skin.
He should stop. He should. Must. Couldn’t. He wanted…so fucking wanted…
Brandon’s brain went to mush. Stanford’s men were only two feet away from where they were hiding, yet here they were, making out like a pair of high school kids who so desperately couldn’t get their hands off each other.
Stop it. For the love of God, get a hold over yourself.
Brandon tore his mouth off hers, panting. Lillian lunged, still wanting to kiss him.
“Sssh,” he whispered, half-panicked. Goddamn. He was actually panicking. He was afraid if she kissed him again, he wouldn’t be able to stop. It’d been forever since he’d had a woman. If Lillian kept doing this, he would lose control and ravish her in this very booth.
He couldn’t do that. God forbid, he was her bodyguard.
Lillian did stop. She licked her lips, staring at him wide-eyed as if she had just found a new wonder of the world. Brandon forced himself to look away from the sirenic temptation, trying to concentrate on what was happening outside the booth. He heard Donahue’s angry voice and a man talking in rapid Japanese. The shouts faded. Feet shuffled. People lumbered away from the hall.
They were gone? Were they really gone?
They were.
Brandon took a deep breath and lowered his Glock. What the hell did I just do? Those men could have barged in and shot them. Killed him and took Lillian away. He was supposed to protect her. “Why…” Brandon couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. Why did she kiss him? And as a matter of fact, why did he kiss her back? The boundary he’d tried to set up between them was broken to pieces when he lost his self-control. He couldn’t believe what he’d done. He was never this reckless.
“Well…” Lillian smiled sheepishly. “If I were to get caught and dragged back to my father, at least, I’d have had my first hot kiss.”
Brandon was mad.
Least, she thought he was. He became quiet as they sneaked from Donahue’s Otakutopia to their temporary hiding place. His lush brows furrowed. His grey eyes steeled and his jaw hardened. Lillian could hear him grinding his teeth, too. Was he mad because she’d kissed him? She bet he was. Maybe it was the timing. Definitely bad timing. She had distracted him at a crucial moment. They could’ve gotten themselves killed. Honestly, she didn’t know what she was thinking. Being with him, her hero, so close, she couldn’t control herself. It wasn’t her fault Brandon was so sexy. Him and his gun, just like a spy in an action movie.
He halted her. Apparently, she’d almost walked into traffic. Lillian stole a glance at him. Brandon looked grim. Is he going to be mad at me forever?
Lillian wanted to ask where they were going, but after a brief consideration, she decided not to. Brandon might get even more irritated than he already was. She tailed him, trying to catch up with his long strides. They walked past the Bunkamura shopping centre towards the dense business area. Funky neon and flashy signs sprouted like mushrooms. Lillian widened her eyes, squelching her urge to giggle when she read the names of some of the businesses. Some of them bordered beyond weird like “Licks Strawberry” or “Sweet Happy Vibrations.”
“I know this area.” Lillian snapped her fingers. “Dogenzaka Street. And there’s Love Hotel Hill. I read about this on the Internet.”
Brandon’s jaw twitched. He kept his silence. He only snatched her hand and pulled her into an alley. The narrow street was emblazoned with even more ludicrous signs. Some of the buildings were built according to their themes. She saw a medieval castle, a French bistro and something that resembled a spaceship. They stopped at one particular limestone-swathed building with multiple entrances. The place was called “Koi.”
“Donahue, you son of a bitch.”
“Your friend owns a rabu hoteru? Love hotel?”
He ground his teeth again.
“I think it’s cool.”
Brandon cast her a dark look and urged her to follow him into the lobby. Inside, a small hexagonal room covered in Asian carp murals welcomed them. No attendants were in sight. The lobby was only filled with vending machines, selling various items from condoms, lubricants and novelty sex toys, to snacks like instant ramen, cold sandwiches and beverages.
A big split-screen monitor perched in the middle of the lobby displayed all available rooms. Apparently, Donahue’s business was booming. From Koi’s twenty-four rooms, only seven were available to choose from. Brandon’s face plunged into a deeper frown. Each of the rooms carried different themes—vintage, futuristic and classic, to something that came from torture chambers in the medieval ages. The rates of the rooms were displayed in neon green. “Rest” rate started at fifteen thousand yen. Overnight stay tripled. When guests had made their choice, they could pay with cash or credit cards through the automatic teller machine on the bottom of the screen. The ATM would cough out a key card when it approved the transaction.
She heard Brandon grumbling again. “What’s your problem?”
“You shouldn’t be in a place like this.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer. Brandon fished a key card from his pocket and waved it at a main scanner on the bottom of the display screen. Room number eight blanked dark—taken. “Let’s go.”
Lillian followed him tentatively. She didn’t know what his problem was, but she thought hiding in a love hotel was a neat idea. She’d read somewhere people loved staying in a rabu hoteru because it was discreet. And for somebody who was on the run like them, she couldn’t think of any better place than this.
Their room was called “Sakura,” cherry blossom, and it carried its theme rather enthusiastically. The moment Brandon opened the door, the sight of everything cherry blossom bombarded them in epic proportions. From the wallpaper, carpet and linens, to a large bed in the middle of the room that was shaped like a Sakura flower.
“Gah,” Brandon spat. “What the fuck is that?”
“Kawaii. Cuteness.” She loved the Sakura flower.
“Eye bleach.” He locked the door and motioned her to stay still.
She watched him check all the corners of the room, the bathroom, the closet and all the desks and drawers.
“We’re good,” Brandon announced when he obviously hadn’t found anything suspicious. “You’ll take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Her eyes drifted to the couch. It was a puny couch, upholstered in a pink Sakura pattern and intended just as a showpiece. It wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping there. Brandon was a tall guy. His legs would hang out from the armrest.
“What’s wrong with the bed? It’s big enough for both of us.” Actually, the bed was big enough for three or four people because of the shape.
Brandon’s lips thinned into a grim line. “You take the bed and I’ll take the couch.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Are you mad at me?”
He brushed past her and stowed the duffel bag in the closet.
“Was it because I kissed you?”
Brandon flinched.
“I really like you.”
“Ms. Blackwell…”
“Call me Lillian.”
“Look, ki—”
“And don’t call me kid, either!”
He sighed, throwing his hands up. “Lillian…”
She beamed. “Much better.”
“Look. I helped you because I’m worried about you. I didn’t expect a reward or anything else.”
“And what has that got to do with me liking you?”
“You’re too young…”
“Today is my wedding day. If I’m old enough to get married, I’m old enough to play.”
Brandon ran his hands through his hair, looking frustrated.
Lillian found him very cute, flustered like that.
“Look,” he said for the third time. “You don’t need to feel obliged…”
“Are you gay?”
He looked scandalised. “No.”
“Is there a special lady waiting for you somewhere?”
“Lillian, it’s not…”
“It’s because of my scar, isn’t it?” She rubbed her right thigh. The ugly scar always made her self-conscious. “I can’t do anything about it. I could get plastic surgery but…”
Brandon seized her shoulders. “Lillian, you’re perfect. You’re perfect in every way.”
“But I’m not your type, is that what you’re trying to say?”
“I’m your bodyguard. My job is to protect you, not get in your pants.”
A hearty laugh escaped her before she could hold it in. So that was what the fuss was all about? “What if I’m the one who wants to get in your pants?”
He released her, brandishing his hands in desperation. “Don’t. Tempt. Me.”
“Why not?”
“Just don’t.”
“Brandon!”
“Listen. You’re emotionally vulnerable. You think you know what you want, but you don’t. You like me because I saved you from Stanford. It has nothing to…”
“I like you because you’re the hottest guy I’ve ever met.”
His face turned magenta. “For the love of God, Lillian. Are you trying to make me ravish you?”
“Something along that line. It’s my wedding day, after all.”
Brandon let out another sigh. “Why don’t you rest or take a shower or something while I get us food. I bet you’re hungry.” He stalked off to the door and yanked the handle open.
“Why did you kiss me back if you don’t like me?”
He stiffened and left without a word.
That girl. Brandon sucked a hard inhalation through his teeth, feeling frustrated. I’m losing my mind. His cock throbbed in his pants, hard and unfulfilled. She had no idea how close he was from snatching her and throwing her onto that silly bed, tearing her clothes off, and fucking her until she fainted. If he did that, he was no better than Maxwell Stanford. He’d sworn to protect her, not take advantage while she was in her most vulnerable state.
You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever met. What if I want to get in your pants?
Damn temptation. Brandon clenched his fist, storming out from the private exit of Koi and into the sun-blinding street. The humidity and hot temperature offered no relief from the choking arousal he was suffering. He wasn’t the type of man who was easily turned on. Self-control was his best virtue. But that girl, that Rapunzel from the Tall Tower, she’d easily set him ablaze with her innocent banter. If she was trying to seduce him, well, it was working. He felt like a worm baking under a hot sun. Fidgeting. Burning. Totally miserable.
God fucking damn it.
It didn’t help, either, that it had been forever since he’d been with a woman. When was the last time he’d fucked anyway? Brandon tried to remember. Two, three years ago perhaps? He recalled a short encounter with a petite brunette named Lisa Marie something he’d met in Qatar, on his R-n-R time. It was when he heard the news about his ex-wife marrying a handyman who she’d often called to help whenever he was deployed overseas. After his vacation time was over, so was the brief affair with Lisa Marie.
When Brandon came back to the States about a year ago, he found out that Charlene’s marriage had fallen apart. The handyman husband of hers had left her for a younger woman, and to top it all, the doctor had diagnosed her with a brain tumour. With no family she could turn to, Brandon had taken her back and stayed with her. Unfortunately, she lost her battle against her illness, leaving him with mounting medical debts. Because she was officially still the other man’s wife, Charlene wasn’t eligible for military spouse benefits. Brandon lost his savings, house, and most of all, the woman who had been his wife since they had graduated from high school.
Somehow, watching Charlene slowly dying from cancer had killed his sex drive. After Charlene died and it was time for him to start over, a friend of his had set him up on a blind date. Though she was pretty, smart and blessed with curves in all the right places, Brandon had felt nothing for her and was pretty damn sure he was done with sex forever.
Until he met Lillian Blackwell.
That girl set him on fire. She redefined lust in a whole new meaning. The very girl he couldn’t and shouldn’t have.
God mother-fucking damn it. Why did she have to like him, too?
Temptation, like her, was something he didn’t need this time. He was already neck-deep in shit by agreeing to help her escape. Brandon planned to stick with her until she was in a safe place, or maybe until she found a man who would take care of her for the rest of her life, relieving him from his responsibility. Then he’d move on and pick up where he’d left off and start over. Again.
Least, that was his plan.
Lillian couldn’t possibly want a washed-up veteran like him, could she? He was nobody and she was the heir of William Blackwell, a man who shat gold and pissed money.
Brandon frowned as he crossed the busy intersection with hundreds of other pedestrians. He caught sight of a group of giggling teenage girls in high school uniforms stalking behind him like his doting personal groupies.
“Konnichiwa, Mister. You handsome,” called one of the girls in broken English.
“Moe, moe!” yelled the others. “Kawaii!”
Very, very, cute? He cringed. Good lord. What the hell was wrong with chicks in this country?
Chapter Four
Brandon had changed into different clothes when he came back. His black tux was gone, replaced with a tee, jeans and a leather jacket. He looked positively heart throbbing in that attire. Very bad boyish. And he brought food with him, too. Takeout food. Fried noodles. Mongolian chicken. Wonton soup, all hearty and loaded with carbs. She loved it since Mrs. Mitsusaki only fed her rabbit food. Sweet and high carbohydrate food was strictly forbidden on her father’s order. Sweets were a cardinal sin. Lillian ate her meal with relish.
“So, do you have any plan now that you’re free?” Brandon broke the ice.
Lillian chewed a big piece of chicken and swallowed. “I don’t know yet, but we must take the money from my account and transfer it to yours.”
“Why?”
“It’s your fee for cancelling my wedding.”
“I don’t want your money. I saved you because it was the right thing to do, not because I expected a reward.”
“Okay, what are you planning to do for a while? Do you have enough money to cover our expenses?”
He shot her an irritated look.
“Well, I guess we’re settled on that, aren’t we?”
“How did you get that money, anyway? Your father didn’t even give you square meals. I assume he wouldn’t grant you spending privileges.”
“I did day trading on the Internet. When I was fourteen, I had this great teacher, Mr. Cheng, and he was a math genius. He opened a Schwab account for me and gave me ten thousand yen to start. He taught me how to trade. Over the years, I’ve accumulated enough money to hire someone like you.”
Brandon looked thoughtful. “Day trading, huh? I guess not everyone in your father’s staff is a pussy.”
“Oh, Mr. Cheng didn’t do it because he had sympathy for me. He was rather warped, if I must say. He did it because he wanted to see if I could build my own fortune, just like my father, secretly. I’m sure you know how my father made his fortune?”
“Stock market. Overnight billionaire.”
Lillian nodded. “Mr. Cheng would have been proud if he was still around.”
“What happened to him?”
“Stanford crippled him. He didn’t like the way Mr. Cheng looked at me.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Mr. Cheng is gay. He was harmless.”
Brandon looked disgusted. He poked his noodles as if he had no appetite and opened a can of soda. “I’ll clean this up when you’re done. You should rest. It’s been a rough day for you.”
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“On this couch.”
“The bed is big enough for both of us. I swear I won’t try anything funny on you.”
He almost snorted in his drink. “Lillian, let me make this clear for you. I’m your bodyguard and let’s leave it at that.”
“Why?”
Brandon put down his can and lectured her for half an hour on why he thought she liked him and why the two shouldn’t cross the line between the maiden and the bodyguard. Lillian listened with only half an ear. What was up with his code of honour obsession? If he didn’t have feelings for her, he wouldn’t have kissed her back so passionately, would he? She could swear that when they’d kissed earlier, she’d felt a deep connection as if she was discovering her soul mate for the very first time.
Gilded Cage Page 4
