Riku held out his hand. A gesture of invitation, to place her hand in his forever or spurn him now. That would be what it seemed like to onlookers. Only she knew better. She took it, smiling. He drew her close, their clasped hands between them and gazed into her face. What she saw there troubled her more than anything else that had happened tonight.
Riku was deeply upset. Distressed. His anger was there, heating the way he looked at everyone but her, but he’d let her see his vulnerability.
That meant more than she could say. Which was why she wasn’t a poet or a songwriter. No doubt he’d make something of it when he had time to process what had happened here tonight. She’d considered her family life was a mess but tonight she’d learned differently. Her issues with her parents didn’t come under the dysfunctional banner. At least she didn’t think so.
Hand in hand, they left the restaurant. “I never want to see that place again,” she said, low-voiced but vehement.
“Me either.” He was smiling when he faced the crowd, far from his usual broody public image.
A woman pushed her way to him, grinning broadly. “Someone told me you’d proposed. Is this the lucky lady?”
Riku lifted their clasped hands to his lips and kissed Cyn’s knuckles. “It is. Now we’re in a hurry so please let us through.”
The muscle made it possible for them to get to the car idling by the curb. A sleek, black limo like the ones she’d seen outside the venue last night. He helped her in. Smoked glass windows ensured their privacy, which was probably why he’d ordered one.
Once in and with the window between them and the driver closed he tugged her against him, with her bad side cradled protectively and kissed her. “Can we not discuss it for a while?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said. They travelled to the apartment in silence, peaceful silence. He made her feel safe and wanted and she let herself sink into the atmosphere they created between them.
When they got out he opened the screen and spoke to the driver. “Give us fifteen minutes and call up. We’re in a hurry.” He ignored the way Cyn stared at him in disbelief.
When she opened her mouth to speak to him in the elevator, he stopped it with a kiss. Still reverential, sweet and lovely, ravishing her senses. In the old days she might have swooned.
“Can you pack in ten minutes?” He gave her a cheeky grin this time.
“What?”
“Las Vegas,” he said patiently, as if explaining something obvious. “Throw some things into a case. We’ll buy what we forget.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? You told me you had no important clients, that your managers could cope for a while. You’re not going back to work yet so come with me to Las Vegas.” He quirked a brow. A dare.
Oh she never backed down on a dare and he knew it. When she growled as she strode to the bedroom he only laughed.
Fifteen minutes later she emerged to see Riku in jeans and a black T-shirt with a dragon sprawled over it. She frowned at the shirt’s eerie glow. He’d only put the ambient lights on, so she could see the night outside. He glanced down to see what she was staring at. “It glows in the dark. It seemed appropriate for Vegas and it was the first in the drawer.” He thrust his wet hair behind his ears. He must have showered and she wished she’d had time. It might have helped to wash the memory of that awful dinner away.
Grinning, he gestured toward the elevator, picking up a large black bag and reaching for her small case. “We deserve a vacation.”
He was right. Although she’d forgotten a lot of items, including her toothbrush, she’d remembered underwear, a couple of changes of clothes and her passport. Her bag was smaller than his and while that didn’t seem right they were both accepted as carry-ons. The air stewards in first class seemed more pleasant too, or perhaps it was because they had fewer people to attend to. Maybe they got more money.
Cyn shuddered to think of the cost but she’d let him treat her to this part. He could afford it, she told herself and she’d endured his parents for his sake.
Once they were in the air he hovered anxiously as the steward let down the seat and made a real bed for her. Sheets and all. Then he helped her to take off her shoes, although she’d deliberately chosen flats she could kick off. He held back the covers as she climbed in, feeling completely idiotic. “I’m not a child,” she protested, for all the good it did her.
“You’re an invalid.”
Like him she’d chosen simple clothing, loose black pants and a top. She climbed in and lay on her injured side as the doctor had recommended, which meant facing Riku’s seat. “Did you get separate seats on purpose?”
He motioned to the rest of the cabin. No, he hadn’t. The seats were arranged herringbone fashion, so they couldn’t have bunked in together. Clever of the airline, she supposed, avoiding mile-high-club attempts. The idea made her shudder. In her current condition that would just about kill her.
Riku smiled. He’d followed her thoughts, perhaps had them himself. Anyhow, he knew. He squatted to her level and gave her another of those sweet, gentle kisses. She loved them and leaned up for another one. Her side hurt like a bitch. So what?
He held her, lowered her gently to the bed. “Get some sleep. We’ll paint the town red when we get there. Or white. All the colors you want.”
When she laughed it really hurt, so she cut it short and settled down. Only when she was drifting did she recall they hadn’t had one serious conversation since they left the restaurant.
* * * * *
A seven-hour flight. Almost as long as a direct flight to the US from the UK. At times like these, Cyn truly understood how big a country the United States was. However, she slept through most of it. She couldn’t remember sleeping this well on a flight ever before.
She’d opened her eyes once or twice and every time she caught Riku’s dark gaze, watching her. His bed was made the same way but he didn’t sleep as far as she knew. A small notebook lay on the little table and a pen. Notes or a song or something. Would this prove good inspiration? Half comical, half terrifying, she thought but her mind spun with the speed of the way Riku had put everything into effect. Las Vegas. She’d never been before. They were only here for a vacation, not for the preposterous suggestion he’d made to her earlier.
Lulled by his nearness, by exhaustion brought on from worrying and pain, she drifted again. When she opened her eyes once more they were an hour from landing and the stewards were bringing breakfast. Even that turned out to be palatable in first class. “You’re spoiling me,” she said to him softly.
“I intend to,” he responded. “Time you saw something of life. You’ve worked solidly for the last eight years, haven’t you?”
“Had a lot of fun doing it.” She laughed when she worked sometimes. She’d never have laughed if she were working as a dramatic soprano. “Jewelry has more jokes than Wagner.”
His smile turned into a laugh and then a wry acknowledgement when she pointed out he’d hardly spent the time sitting on his ass enjoying the sunshine.
Times like these, conversations like these, where they followed each other’s thoughts and enjoyed each other’s company, it made her think things she shouldn’t. She had to remind herself who he was, who she was and what they each needed. Although she admitted she was now thinking of more than a week of him and he’d decided to take time off from the band. As much as he could, which, by the evidence of the crowd last night, was harder than ever to achieve.
He was due at the studio soon. A few weeks. They’d have that and then they’d see. Cyn didn’t have a lot of faith in long-term relationships. Tried it twice and it didn’t work out either time.
As if she’d conjured it up, after they landed and turned their cells back on he got a text. “The guys want to know if I can come to Chicago on Wednesday. They had an idea they want to work on.” He glanced at her, his brow creasing. “I’ll tell them to do it on their own.”
She covered his hand with hers. “No, don’t. A few days is good.”
/> He nodded, his expression grave, his eyes distant. “Okay. But only if you come with me.”
She was on the verge of telling him no when she realized she could. Janey and Maddy had promised to put her in a cab and send her home if she showed her nose inside the stores when she’d called them yesterday. They’d both seen the news and she’d been spread across the tabloids. Apparently the media had caught Riku’s concern for her then and speculation was rife. They’d made it worse, or rather he had, by confirming the question asked outside the restaurant. That part puzzled her. Why would he confirm their upcoming marriage when all he wanted was to rile his parents?
Maybe emotion left over from the dinner. Shuddering definitely didn’t work for her. It hurt.
The plane landed. They got off first and followed a flight attendant to the VIP lounge, where a driver waited. “Shit, this is something,” she muttered but he heard it and grinned.
“It’s good when you can treat your lady. And I have an apartment to survey in Chicago. I’d like you to help me decide if I like it.”
“You do?”
“I told you I had Beverley searching for me. But V’s from Chicago and one of her relatives is in real estate. He found this place and sent me pictures. It looks great. If I’m spending time in Chicago I don’t want a hotel.”
“Why do you want my opinion?”
“Because you have great taste and because I’d like you to spend some time there.”
Without waiting for her to respond he tucked his hand at her back and urged her forward to follow the driver, who took them to another car. Someone brought their luggage, such as it was, and Riku even refused to let her carry her own purse, taking it from her.
Maybe someone had a picture of that but she had a satchel-like purse for travelling, so it wouldn’t look too bad. She was thinking like a publicist now. Shit on that.
Of course he took her to the Bellagio and a suite there. She thought they were going in unannounced but should have known better. “I called the hotel from the airport when you went to the bathroom before we boarded.” She remembered seeing him with his phone in his hand but hadn’t thought much of it. Of course he’d have done that.
Such a beautiful hotel and the view they had of the fountains outside spectacular. As she stood by the window watching the spray he came up behind her and settled his hands on her shoulders. “Shower and dress. We have a wedding to go to.”
He loved the way her mouth curved in a round O when he said that. What, hadn’t she believed him? No, of course not. She’d imagined it was bravado. He’d called this an impromptu vacation, which it was. But when he’d proposed to her in the restaurant, although it had started as a response to his parents’ incredibly crass treatment of Cyn, the idea took hold and he’d decided, Why not?
They’d only pushed him into doing something he was planning to do anyway. Perhaps marriage would hold her closer, lend her the confidence to give him everything instead of only part of her. A gamble he was prepared to take because the stakes were so high.
“I only have one dress with me,” she said.
He chuckled, kissed her neck. “Such a girl! Go with it, Cyn. Play on. Let’s have an adventure.” Then he said something he thought she might respond to best. “C’mon, it’s a dare.”
“Evil.” He took care not to touch her injury as she turned in the circle of his arms. “You thought I’d do it just for the dare?”
“Or something.” He watched her, wondering if she’d do it. “After all, divorces are easy. And it’ll make you an American citizen.”
She nibbled her bottom lip, so he took the cue and did the same, licking the place afterward and finishing with a kiss. He’d cherished her on the way here, even watched her sleep like some love-struck teenager. He felt that way for sure. “I’m not so sure,” she murmured when she could. “The American citizen part I mean. I’m nearly there, anyway. I want it.” She paused and he caught his breath. “I want you.”
Shamelessly taking advantage, he kissed her properly, sliding his tongue into her mouth to taste and relish. To—he still balked at the final word, so afraid she’d back up and throw up barriers he’d never breach. Eventually he’d find a way to say it. Everything important in his life he expressed through music. He could do it that way and she’d understand because she was a musician too.
An hour later, after they’d showered and changed into the second outfits they’d brought, they found a chapel with some spare time. Half an hour after that they were married.
Blinking in the bright sunshine, Cyn fiddled with the ring on the third finger of her left hand. It wasn’t what anyone would describe as warm but the sun had emerged to smile on them. Almost too perfect.
At least the minister hadn’t recognized him. But then, in jeans and hoodie, with a worn leather jacket, he didn’t look much like the man who’d bossed the stage this last weekend. He tilted up her chin, smiled and kissed her. Their second married kiss, sweeter than the first. They hurried inside the building. “Happy Monday,” he said.
“Happy Monday to you too.” Her attention went back to her ring. “Was that a proper wedding?”
“Sure it was. My mother’s going to be furious.”
“Is it why you did it?”
He couldn’t lie to Cyn. Never been able to, not effectively. “Partly. She drove me to it. She shouldn’t have tried to match-make. She should have known it would push me away.” He gripped her hand and slowly she raised her eyes to his face. “It’s not just that. We were always going here, weren’t we?”
She glanced at the chapel. A sliver of pink paint peeled away and dropped to the ground, leaving a streak of gray behind. “Here?” She turned her attention back to him, a wry smile tilting a corner of her mouth.
“Anywhere. If you want I’ll give you the big wedding, or a blessing. Would you like to invite your mother?”
Alarm streaked across her face, her eyes widening, her lips compressing. “No. We drifted apart. Enough if I tell her.” She glanced at the ring again. “When did you get this?”
He told her the truth. “I’ve had it a while. I bought it when I was passing Tiffany’s one day. Saw it in the window and liked it.” He paused. Should he tell her he’d thought of her when he’d seen it though they hadn’t been together then? He decided against it. Not yet. She was still too nervous. “We’ll have to get it adjusted for you though.”
A gold band, adorned with tiny diamonds in an irregular pattern like a wave. “Or I’ll buy you another if you want it.”
She clenched her hand over the ring and it popped up, showing daylight between her finger and the hoop. “I like this one. And yes, it’ll have to be adjusted.” He watched her jaw move as she swallowed. “Do I call myself Mrs. Shiraishi?”
“It would be an honor if you did but call yourself what you want. Cyn Woodley-Shiraishi, Cyn Woodley, Cyn Shiraishi. Cyn Smith if you want. As long as you stay with me.”
“Sweet talker.” She seemed to want to keep this cool, as he did. He needed to get used to being married but he’d come around, because he couldn’t imagine marrying anyone else. When he’d asked her a deep calm descended, as if he’d finished something important. The pattern, a new composition, something he could close the creative door on and feel proud of.
He liked her smile, unforced and sweet. “You like the ring?”
“I love it.” That came without thought too, no time for polite falsehoods. She truly liked it. Warmth seeped through him, pleasure that he’d predicted her tastes well enough.
He looped his arms around her waist while his brain hammered at him. Not now, not now! All his instincts told him she wouldn’t accept his declaration yet. She was too edgy, too nervous. But he knew how to soothe her.
He kissed her. She opened her mouth for him, natural as breathing and tasted him, not shy anymore, not hesitant. With a groan he felt his cock, already half-hard, finish the job and press against his underwear and jeans. They took up right where they’d left off to visit the chapel
and when he swung her into his arms she laughed at him. “Carrying me across the threshold?”
“Something like that. I’ll have to do it across our own threshold.”
“Our?” Her smile disappeared and he cursed himself. He’d have to ease her into this.
“In case it passed you by, we didn’t sign a prenup. What’s mine is yours.”
“And you get a share of the stores.” She gave him no clue how she felt about that.
“We’ll sort it out when we get back. You need to keep your stores safe and I need to do the music stuff with the band so we’ll get a lawyer to organize it. That okay?” He trusted her more than anyone else. He paused when the impact settled inside him. Yes, it was true. More than anyone.
When he settled her on the huge bed in the predominantly peach bedroom at the hotel, she pulled him down to join her. He only remembered in time to prop his elbows on either side of her, so he didn’t lean on her bruises. They were growing lighter, fading, although nobody but he would notice the subtle changes because he examined the area carefully every chance he got. When he helped her out of her T-shirt he took the chance to see how it was doing. What he saw pleased him. He ran a finger over the area, taking the greatest care. “The swelling’s gone down.”
“It doesn’t hurt so much. Only when I move too fast or I catch it.”
He kissed her poor bruises, making it barely a whisper. Her skin felt hot against his lips but not too much, not enough to make him worry. When he’d taken her on the plane it occurred to him that maybe she shouldn’t be too far away from a doctor but in this hotel they probably had one of their own. He murmured her name, lifted up to kiss her lips and then the magic struck and he couldn’t stop kissing her, tasting her with endless desire. When, despite his intentions, he slid his hand up from her waist and she flinched he drew away.
“No,” she whispered, curving her hand around his neck and threading her fingers into his hair to massage his scalp. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“Never,” he vowed. “Not in this lifetime.” She tasted like nobody else, honey and salt and something else, something indefinably her. Then he lifted his head. “I spent a week in a hotel room in England. I couldn’t sleep. Tossed and turned all night.”
BorntobeWild Page 17
