I tore myself away. “You’re not. If you were a jerk, you wouldn’t be treating me like this.”
He smiled and a breath caught in my throat.
God, he was beautiful. It was unfair a man could be so lovely. And so kind.
“I did tell you I was twisted, didn’t I?” He pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket and patted tenderly around my eyes. “No more crying. I hate it when you cry.”
His words stunned me into silence. “What?”
Okay, maybe not total silence.
He grimaced as he dabbed at the corners of my eyes with the blue handkerchief. “I said it hurts when I hear you cry. I keep wishing there was something I could do to make you stop, but sometimes, in these cases, maybe it’s better if you just cried your eyes out. But not too much. If your eyes popped out, where would I be without my executive assistant?”
He was being almost too nice, a total one-eighty personality change from his usual cold self. “You’re scaring me. Please stop acting like that.”
“I thought you liked it when I was nice and caring.”
I hiccupped embarrassingly loud and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Stop laughing at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you.” He made as if to stow the damp handkerchief away. “Wait.”
He straightened it out and then folded into a long thin line. “Take off that ugly scarf.”
“Why?” I asked, eyeing the length of silk in his hand. “What are you going to do?”
“Just take it off.”
I complied and he carefully wound the kerchief around my neck, covering up the bruises.
But not before brushing his thumb over the sore spots.
“I am sorry, Rika.”
I couldn’t move.
Couldn’t speak.
My name sounded so sweet, so gentle in his voice.
I licked my dry lips.
His eyes followed the movement.
My mouth opened slightly.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Here. Let me finish tying it.”
Just like that, the spell was broken and he tied the kerchief around my neck so it wouldn’t slip free.
As he took a step back to check his handiwork, his cell phone buzzed.
He sighed and then cursed as he checked his phone. “I need to get back to the booth.”
“I’ll go with—”
“No,” he said firmly, already walking away. “Go back into the hotel, Rika. Take the day off. You can work tomorrow, if you want.”
There. He had said my name twice.
My heart pounded hard against my chest. It probably meant nothing to him, but for those five minutes I wasn’t Miss Hasegawa to him.
I was Rika.
With an exasperated huff, I shook my head.
“So what if he called me by my name?” I muttered as I took the same path out of the parking lot. “Big deal.”
Great. Now I was talking to myself in public.
Maybe Heather had done some damage to my brain, making me think that for a second, just one second, Nobuki might’ve…
A scornful laugh echoed in my head.
Kissed you?
Dream on, you naive, idiotic girl.
I glanced at the convention hall as I walked past, but Nobuki had told me to stay away and I would do as he requested.
Back in the hotel room, my stomach grumbled and I realized I hadn’t had lunch yet. Actually, I hadn’t had anything since dinner last night. After looking at the cold, unappetizing mess of pasta in my refrigerator, I decided to call for room service.
I ordered a small chicken salad with a glass of peach iced tea, and after turning the TV on for background noise, I flipped through a battered, dog-eared copy of one of my favorite authors, Mariko Koike. The Graveyard Apartment was one of the best horror books I had ever read and even though the subject matter was somewhat gruesome, her prose never failed to comfort me.
But not now. Tonight my nerves tingled like ants marching down my back and I felt strangely unsettled. Just like the family in Mrs. Koike’s book, I had a sense of impending doom that would not go away. When room service knocked on the door, I almost jumped and then laughed at my own stupidity.
“Get a hold of yourself, Rika,” I chided myself as I pulled the door open and found myself face-to-face with Heather Jimenez.
Chapter 14
She smiled at me tentatively. “Hi.”
I froze for a few seconds and then slammed the door in her beautiful face.
I didn’t even know what I was doing until the door was closed and I found myself dragging the chain lock over the door.
How did she get my room number?
Was she back to finish the job?
Or was I being way too paranoid for my own good?
The door vibrated as she knocked again.
Damn it. That’ll teach me to open the door before checking the peephole.
“Rika?” She knocked on the door again and I almost choked on my own heart. “Rika, please, I think we need to talk.”
“I don’t need to talk to you,” I muttered through the gap in the door. “Go away.”
Crap. First thing after she left I was going to request a room change.
“Look, I need to talk to you,” she said in a stilted voice. “I’d like to apologize. Yesterday was not…me at my best.”
At that point, I would’ve promised her my first born if it meant she would leave me alone. “Okay, apology accepted. Will you please go away?”
There was a faint thump on the door. It almost sounded like a forehead meeting the wood. “Please. What I did last night was absolutely reprehensible and I’d like to talk about it.”
“Why, so you could try killing me again?”
There was a pause then I heard her speaking with someone.
“Um,” she said awkwardly. “I think your room service is here.”
I stared at the door in horror, contemplating my possible actions.
Knowing only one action was logical and wouldn’t make me look like a child, I undid the lock and opened the door to a confused looking young man, holding a tray in one hand and a small check in the other.
And next to him was Heather.
I figured she wasn’t going to attack me while he was still there, but I couldn’t ask him to stay until she left.
“Uh.” His gaze flitted from me to Heather. “You ordered room service, ma’am?”
Heather let out a slow breath, her expression flustered. “I didn’t mean to bother your meal.”
I took the tray from the young man, and placed it on the bed before signing the receipt, putting it on the company card. I slipped him a five from my back pocket and he walked away, whistling under his breath, while the woman who tried to kill me the night before shifted from one foot to the other.
She opened her mouth to say something, but I beat her to it.
“I’ll meet you in the first floor lounge,” I said. “Give me a couple of minutes.”
“What about your food?”
I resisted the urge to look back at the tray because I was worried what she would do if my back was turned. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll keep. See you in five.”
I closed the door with marginally more dignity than before and waited until I heard her footsteps fade down the hallway.
Then I waited another minute and checked the peephole.
No one.
You could call me excessively paranoid, but I wasn’t going to let her kill me in the quiet end of a hotel.
I took a deep breath and inched the door open, half expecting to see sharp nails tear through the gap.
No hands.
Nothing.
I poked my head out into the hallway and looked both ways. Again, nothing.
My pulse raced as I closed the door behind me, leaning against it as my head spun from the sudden spurt of adrenaline.
Even so, I put in a heavy bottle of facial toner in my purse…just in case. If she got a little too frisky, I�
�d use my purse as a sling and knock her out before she could rip me to pieces.
The hallway was eerily quiet as I crept into it, making sure my room door closed and locked behind me. I was sure Heather was waiting in the lounge, but I still jumped at the smallest sounds, almost shrieking when the central vent above me kicked in as I waited for the elevator.
I was a shaking mess by the time I made it to the lobby and I had to take a few minutes to compose myself by the front desk. I didn’t want to let Heather see what kind of wreck I was. I had to let her see that I was strong, implacable, even if on the inside, I was a wobbling mess.
When my heartbeat approached normal, I went to the lounge. Heather sat at the table nearest to the entrance, a tall glass of something amber in front of her.
I took another deep breath and slid into the seat across from her. “I hope that’s not alcoholic.”
She gave me a forced smile. “It’s just ginger ale.”
I ordered an iced tea and Heather’s shoulders stiffened, her small hands wrapping around the perspiring drink.
“I didn’t think you’d come down,” she murmured.
“How did you get my room number?”
“Oh…” She looked away. “I figured you were next door to Nobu.”
My hands tightened around the purse. “I see. What do you want?”
The waitress arrived with my drink and Heather waited until she was out of earshot before speaking again.
“I’m sorry about last night.” Her gaze flitted everywhere but at me. She must’ve felt incredibly guilty if she couldn’t look me in the face. “I don’t even know what to say, Rika.”
I shifted uncomfortably in the chair and took a sip of my tea because I didn’t know what else to do. “You were super drunk. You threw on yourself. I was just trying to help.”
She lowered her head and ground her palms into her eyes. “Yes. I know.”
Her shoulders shook and I realized she was crying.
And then, all of a sudden, I was the monster as we became the center of attention, everyone captivated by the beautiful woman weeping into a handful of napkins while I was looming over her like some kind of monster.
I wished I could stand up and point a finger at her and tell everyone that the girl they were all pitying tried her very best to kill me the previous night.
But I didn’t.
Mostly because I didn’t want to cause a fuss and she was creating enough with her luminous eyes and tear-streaked pallid cheeks.
I slid the napkin dispenser closer toward her.
She nodded and grabbed a bunch more, blowing her nose with a tiny squeak.
“That’s it?” I asked. “You just cry, give me an apology, and that’s all? Everything’s okay? You’re lucky I didn’t call the cops on you.”
She ripped the napkins into tiny damp shreds. “I know. I know, and I feel so bad. I’m a terrible drunk.”
“Maybe you should’ve stayed away from the alcohol last night, then,” I muttered.
“Yeah. I should’ve.”
She let out a deep, shuddering sigh, her shoulders shaking.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked and winced. “It might be personal. I’m not sure.”
I gave her my best stink eye. “You tried to kill me last night. I’d say you lost that privilege.”
She flinched as though I had struck her across the face.
I jammed a fist to the back of my neck, trying to release the tension between my shoulder blades. “Look, what do you want? If you called me here to apologize, you’re wasting your time and mine..”
She licked her lips. “It’s about Nobuki.”
Of course it was. “I’m assuming this is about the ‘he’s mine’ you were screaming while strangling me.”
I was going overboard with the whole “you tried to kill me” shtick, but I got perverse pleasure out of seeing her wince every time I mentioned it. I was just petty enough to enjoy her acute discomfort.
She fiddled with scraps of shredded napkin. “What is your relationship with Nobu?”
“He’s my boss,” I said coldly. “Anything else is none of your business.”
Heather sniffled. “I’ve got to be honest with you. I have a thing for him.”
I snorted. I didn’t mean to, but it just happened. “Yes. I know.”
Twin spots of pink rode high on her delicate cheekbones. “I like him. A lot. I’m pissed he’s leaving so soon.”
In my opinion, we could not leave soon enough. If it meant I’d never have to see Heather again, I was almost willing to leave that very hour.
“What’s your point?” I took another sip of iced tea, the tension melting from my shoulders as the patrons started paying more attention to themselves.
“I’ve liked him for a long time,” she continued, her gaze steady on mine. “I saw him doing some public speaking five years ago when I was just starting out with my first book. I fell in love with him then. When he came back this time, I knew I had to make my move.”
“Like I said, what is your—”
Her hands clenched into fists on top of the table and I stiffened, anticipating some kind of attack.
“He’s mine,” she said. “I want him. Please don’t interfere.”
I blinked, struck dumb by her blunt words.
“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I don’t like it. I’m going to do whatever, everything I can to make him mine,” she said. “So I’m going to ask you again. Do you have feelings for him?”
“No,” I sputtered, stunned into honesty. “Nothing. He’s my boss. We work together.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Really?”
I put up my hands in defeat. “You’re nuts. I don’t want to be anywhere near you. But if you want my boss, you are more than welcome to that frigid son of a bitch.”
She watched me, as if trying to gauge if I was lying.
As if I would lie to such a dangerous person.
“Are you sure?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve seen the way he acts around me. He treats me like trash. When you came into our booth, he was all too happy to leave with you. You still think I’m a threat?”
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Her hand trembled minutely.
Damn it, I was supposed to be the victim here.
“So there’s nothing between you?”
I didn’t bother to hide the impatience in my voice. “No. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. As far as I’m concerned you can have him.”
And the both of you can go to hell for all I care.
A small, tentative smile blossomed on her lips. “Really?”
I felt like I was talking to a child of seven. “Really.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that.” She let out a sigh of relief that made me even unhappier. “I was pretty sure there wasn’t anything between you, but I had to be positive.”
“Of course.” I pushed my chair back. “Is that all?”
“You know, Julian seems to be into you,” she said. “I think you two make a cute couple.”
“Thanks,” I stood up, putting a five on the table for my drink. “If you’ll excuse me—”
Something stopped me from leaving.
That something was a small but surprisingly strong hand around my wrist.
“I’m serious,” said Heather, with something that made me incredibly uncomfortable in her hazel eyes. “Nobu’s mine.”
I tried to shake my wrist out of her grasp without raising too much of a fuss. “Yes, you’ve made that very clear. Would you let go of me, please?”
She was shorter and lighter than me, but I didn’t think I could bet on myself if things ever came down to violence. I mean, hell, I was the one walking around with a scarf around my neck to hide the bruises.
She leaned back in her seat, a beatific smile on her red lips. “Just so we’re clear.”
“Very clear,” I replied and tried to walk out of the restaurant with a modicum of dignity.
Fuck, she was scary.
Nobu’s mine.
And dangerous. I didn’t understand why she was so possessive of him. Surely this level of affection wasn’t normal.
I couldn’t truly relax until I was back in my room, the door double locked. I thought about calling the front desk and requesting a room change, but stopped halfway through to reaching for the phone.
Was I overreacting?
I had made my intentions clear and Heather seemed to believe me.
I was okay.
Probably.
My stomach grumbled again and I padded over to the covered room service tray, lifting the cover off the plate to reveal a very wilted bed of greens hulking under a massive load of grilled chicken.
I was hungry and finished the entire meal, but I found myself missing the simple taste of white rice, miso soup, and maybe a fried egg with some pickled vegetables on the side.
After setting the tray outside my door, but not before checking the hallway to make sure Heather Jimenez wasn’t waiting outside my door with a fire axe, I fell back into bed, more exhausted than I should’ve been.
The conversation with the crazy lady had taxed me, mentally and physically. I drifted into uneasy slumber, face pressed into a large white pillow that smelled like lavender.
He was there.
My boss was there, sitting in his seat, one leg crossed at the knee, fingers pressed together, watching me with that cold, implacable look of his that never failed to terrify yet arouse me.
And, God, I wanted him.
I was naked, but it felt natural to me.
He was fully clothed and I found myself kneeling at his feet, like he was some kind of god and I a worshiping apostle.
I put my hands on his thighs and the muscles flexed under my fingertips as I looked at up him through my long hair tousled around my face.
He said nothing. Just watched me with those cold, dark eyes like he was daring me, like he was calling my bluff.
I ran my hands up his thighs, my face pressed against the soft fabric of his pants, smelling that inexplicably arousing scent that made liquid pool between my legs.
A One Night Affair (Kissing the Boss Book 2) Page 16
