by Olivia Gates
She wanted more. She always had. Once had never been enough for her. Or for him. With her, he’d always wanted more, longer, harder, over and over.
Feeling disgusted with himself, he pulled out of her depths, yanked himself from her clinging limbs.
As soon as he stood up, she slipped off the counter, and the dress he’d only pushed out of the way to take her now tumbled down to cover her seminakedness. In seconds she looked as if nothing had happened.
Tearing his gaze away, he tugged his zipper closed and stuffed his shirt back into his pants in suppressed violence before he strode out to the living room to pick up his jacket.
At the door, he turned, found her standing in the distance, the face that had been gripped in feverish passion just minutes earlier a mask of inanimate beauty.
Flicking her one last contemptuous glance, he said, “Now we’re done.”
Four
Scarlett felt done in, done for. Just done.
As Raiden had said they were.
Last night, his explosive lovemaking—what she’d been yearning for for five interminable years—had inundated her with the physical satisfaction only he had ever given her. But she’d wanted more, far more. A whole night in his arms. A night of worshipping him and giving herself to him in the intimacy she’d only ever had with him, could never have with another. She’d wanted a new intense memory of him to help keep the frozen wasteland inside her from claiming the last flickering flame of life. What had sprung into existence in the first place because of him.
Keeping obsessive track of his news in the past years had been the one thing that had kept that flame from being extinguished. As long as he’d been safe and soaring from one success to a higher one, it had been enough to keep her going.
Then he’d taken her, what she’d never even dared dream would ever happen again. And as he’d filled her arms and body, his eyes burning her with his ferocious hunger, an insane hope had ignited among the hopelessness she’d been resigned to all her life. That she might have him again, without the need to hide anything from him, for a whole night. More, if he would allow it.
But that wasn’t what it had been about for him.
He’d needed to get this, and her, out of his system. He’d needed the closure. Now that he had it, he’d finally move on. As she wanted him to. She’d never wanted anything but his peace.
But the way he’d ended the delirious interlude—with disgust, clearly at himself more than her...
Her phone rang. She grabbed for it, thankful for the distraction. It was Hiro. After he’d once kept insisting she was his hero, she’d laughingly told him she’d make his ringtone “I Need a Hero.” She had.
Affection welled inside her, played on lips still stiff with Raiden’s rejection as she hit Answer.
“I kissed Megumi.”
After a moment’s surprise at Hiro’s blurted confession, she chuckled. “And I thought I’d be apologizing for leaving last night without telling you. Seems I did you a favor. The moment I left your side, you pursued your fantasy woman, got her alone and did what you should have done long ago.”
“It’s no laughing matter, Scarlett.” Hiro sounded as if he’d suffer a heart attack any second now.
It never ceased to amaze her how the ruthless financial mogul could be so different on a personal level. With her, he had a center made of marshmallow. But when it came to Megumi, his insides were clearly more the consistency of Jell-O.
Not that anyone would believe it. The Japanese weren’t given to expressing their emotions, even with their closest people. It was probably because she was a gaijin and a friend who had no contact with his close circle that Hiro felt safe to show her a side of him he’d never show his compatriots and kin. Of course, there was also that life-changing experience he’d shared with her, making her closer to him than almost everyone. Certainly closer than the woman of his dreams, whom he’d finally taken a step toward. If a very belated one.
Scarlett didn’t understand why he’d never taken it before. He’d tell her why if and when he saw fit. Or not. She’d be there for him, as he was for her, no questions asked.
“I broke my code of honor. I compromised hers, showed her disrespect and exploited Kuroshiro’s trust in accepting my tribute and bringing her to my home. It was a total disaster.”
Hiro’s deep voice was strangled, choking off the measure of joy his call had given her. He was really taking this badly, was calling to share his self-recriminations because they’d become too much for him to bear alone.
She wished she could tell him he should at least feel no remorse on Raiden’s behalf. He had not only kissed her but had sex with her. But though Raiden was a major concern to him, what so agonized him was what he thought he’d done to Megumi.
Deciding to go for the heart of the matter, she asked, “Did she respond?”
That seemed to surprise him so much, it aborted his agitation, made him sound scandalized as he said, “Is that all you have to say? What’s the difference if she did?”
“It makes all the difference. So did she?” Only his deep, disturbed breathing answered her. “Let me put it another way. Did she resist you?”
A heavy exhalation. “No. She melted in my embrace, as I always dreamed she would, gave me her lips to worship.” An exasperated exhalation. “But that was no response.”
She groaned. “Hiro, Hiro, don’t you know anything about women at all? That was her response. Surrendering to you, letting you claim her as you will.”
She’d done the same with Raiden. Heat surged through her with the memories of what Raiden had done to her, the unimaginable pleasure he’d given her when he’d taken her like that, devoured her without preliminaries, as if he couldn’t wait, couldn’t breathe if he didn’t have her. It had always been intoxicating when she’d met him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, taken what she’d wanted, which had always been all of him. But her utmost pleasure had always been to submit to his dominance, as she had last night.
“But afterward, she looked...shocked.”
She barely held back from moaning with the pangs of renewed hunger as she focused on her distressed friend. “Of course she did. You’ve never shown her signs you have emotions for her, then suddenly at her engagement party, you drag her aside and devour her.”
“I did show her my emotions,” Hiro protested. “Every time I saw her for the past six months. But my father was Yakuza, and I thought that might be why she’d never consider me.”
That was the first time Hiro admitted his late father had been a member of the Japanese mafia, and she wouldn’t probe further. “Did you make any actual advances before last night?”
“I invented ways to see her as frequently as I can.”
“Did she realize that? Or did you hide your intentions so well, like you did last night, she didn’t realize you set those events up with the sole purpose of seeing her?”
“She moves in completely different circles to mine, so I joined every society and charity she works with, when they’re completely unrelated to my interests. She must have realized I only did that to see her. And I paid only her compliments. I also mentioned many times how I thought it was the perfect time to marry. It seemed she enjoyed my interest, encouraged it, and I was working up the nerve to go to her father with my proposal. Then a week ago, her engagement to Kuroshiro was announced, a man she met only days before. A man her father approves of.”
So this was how recent this whole arrangement was.
She exhaled. “Listen, Hiro, the young woman I saw last night felt uncertain of herself in spite of her incredible beauty. She probably couldn’t believe a man like you was interested in her. Maybe she needed a direct approach, not all those elaborate hints. I can tell you for sure that she was seriously agitated when you took me to her and...Mr. Kuroshiro.”
“She didn
’t look agitated.” His frown was clear in his tone.
“That goes to show you that you can’t read her, and probably missed all the signs of her reciprocating interest. For she was certainly agitated, and it was because of you.” She exhaled. “Seems this was a case of tragic miscommunication.”
“And now it’s too late,” Hiro groaned. “I should have sought your counsel before and all this might have not happened. Now I’ve made it so much worse by kissing her. I’d hoped to continue to see her in a social setting, but now I won’t be able to see her again at all. I’ve truly lost her.”
Before she protested that he hadn’t, she remembered.
This was the woman Raiden would marry in ten weeks. Raiden needed to marry her, for a reason no one but she knew. And he wouldn’t let anyone stand in his way. It was better for Hiro to forget about Megumi. For she was already lost to him.
She wished she could reach out through the phone and hug him. They had even more in common than she’d thought, wanting the one person they could never have. The irony was the two people they wanted would marry each other. But he was in an even worse situation, because he’d always pine for Megumi, think he might have had her if only he’d acted differently. She, on the other hand, had never entertained the possibility that she could have Raiden. The certainty of despair was better than agonizing what-ifs.
“I’m so sorry, Hiro.” She groaned her pain on his behalf. “But if this is any consolation, I do believe Megumi reciprocated your feelings. From what I saw last night, I believe she would have chosen you if she could. I also don’t think you compromised her honor or disrespected her when you kissed her. You simply let her know you wanted her for her, not for her family connections. That’s a knowledge she’ll treasure for the rest of her life.”
After that, Hiro abruptly changed the subject, as if he couldn’t bear talking about Megumi anymore but was too polite to just end the call. She did it for him, excusing herself to finish up her work. From the way he sounded as he said goodbye, it seemed she’d said all the right things to defuse his distress—only to substitute it with despondence.
But he would have gotten there on his own. Losing the only one you want was the most crushing experience one could suffer. She knew. For she’d had too many horrific experiences, and nothing had hit her harder than losing Raiden.
And there was nothing she could do about it. Not then, not now.
But she could do something about the report she was working on. She had to wrap up this last stage in her project, then she could leave Japan. After what had happened with Raiden, she couldn’t stay any longer. It had been one thing to be in the same country as him, to know he was getting married, even see him from afar, when she’d thought he’d never recognize her. But now that he had, now that he’d reignited her, she couldn’t bear to see him again if even by chance. She’d miss seeing Hiro regularly like crazy, but losing his constant presence in her life was a price she had to pay.
Right now, she had to finish setting up the shelters in Kyoto. She’d no longer stay to oversee them as she’d planned, so she had to have a system in place to make up for her absence.
To think of all the effort she’d done after she’d joined UNICEF, to come to Japan especially to set up branches of the aid organization in Tokyo. She’d long finished setting up the executive headquarters in downtown Tokyo, orchestrating relief, relocation and disaster-counseling services. She’d since been working on a few locations across Japan for shelters and rehabilitation centers for the children who’d lost family and survived trauma related to man-made crises and natural disasters, especially the most recent earthquake and tsunami. Now she’d have to drop everything and leave when she’d thought she’d stay for years to come. Her time here would be weeks at most now. Days if she could manage it.
Then she’d never be in danger of seeing Raiden again.
This time, it would be truly over.
* * *
Raiden stood gazing unseeingly from the window of his new headquarters overlooking downtown Tokyo, again trying to bring his rioting senses under control. And again he failed.
His fury was completely directed at himself. This time, she had nothing to do with any of it. It had been his fault alone that he’d succumbed to this sick need for her. Even knowing exactly what she was, or worse, not knowing anything about her, only that everything about her was a lie. And now he couldn’t stop reliving every blazing moment of his possession of her.
One thing he had to admit: they were not done.
Having her once wasn’t enough. He needed more. Had to have it. It was imperative he got her out of his system. And this wouldn’t happen by walking away and trying to clobber that need into submission. It had been consuming him for five years, but after that maddening taste of her, the fire would only rage higher, burn his sanity to ashes faster.
There was one way this could end. If he gave in to his lust to the very end, bingeing on her until he was glutted.
And he had to do it now. He needed everything resolved before his wedding. He wasn’t letting anything jeopardize his plans, starting with his own weakness. Everything he’d worked for the past ten years was at stake.
That was how long he’d been looking for his bloodline. Since his escape from The Organization. Not that he’d been doing nothing but. Since then he’d joined his brothers who’d escaped before him, and they’d set up Black Castle Enterprises together. It had taken some doing adjusting his literally deadly ninja methods to a figurative level in business. But searching for his family had remained a major concern. The one time he’d totally forgotten about his quest had been when he’d been with her in the past.
Finally, a couple of months back, with the benefit of years of research and his brothers’ help, especially the last bit of analysis Rafael Salazar had provided, he’d finally reconstructed who he was and how he’d been taken by The Organization.
But though The Organization itself had had no idea who his family was, he still couldn’t let his family know that he was their long-lost relative. He was certain The Organization had never shelved his case and might put two and two together if his origins were made public. A child lost in a tsunami returning to such a well-known family as the Hashimotos as such a high-profile adult would no doubt trigger correct deductions.
He’d already had a brush with exposure five years ago. With Hannah...or Scarlett. Now that he knew it had been Medvedev on his trail, and she’d thrown him off once, it was more imperative than ever he maintained his secrecy, or risk arousing that monster’s suspicions again.
And he also couldn’t risk his newfound family finding his origins. The Hashimotos were among a handful of families in Japan that were second only to the imperial family in lineage, their bloodline reaching back over a thousand years into Japan’s history. If they found out anything of his past, they’d reject him irrevocably. They wouldn’t care that it hadn’t been of his choosing. They had only samurai in their lineage. Ninjas were anathema to them.
But all his life he’d dreamed of reclaiming his family name, of taking his rightful place at its head and in Japanese society, upholding the traditions he’d been meant to, if not for the disaster that had robbed him of his family and left him prey to those who’d exploited him for twenty years. Nothing would prevent him from reaching his goal now.
But since it was out of the question letting his family know he was his father’s heir and the rightful head of the family, he’d concocted another plan that would secure his goals without divulging his real identity.
That plan had come to him while researching Japanese society. He’d found out that adult adoptions were the most prevalent form of adoption in Japan, especially with the son-in-law taking his wife’s family name and becoming their heir. Since his father’s second cousin, Takeo Hashimoto—now the head of the family—had one unmarried daughter, he’d decided to marry her, and thr
ough yōshi-engumi, literally “marriage and adoption,” become a mukoyōshi, an adopted husband.
He’d put his plan in motion a month ago, coming to Japan to dangle himself in front of Takeo, a tycoon any family would do anything to have as mukoyōshi, providing the strongest heir possible and taking the family’s position and power to new levels. He’d been certain his uncle would make an offer. And he had. He’d offered Megumi, the family name and leadership and the helm of its current businesses.
After pretending to refuse, then to need persuasion, Raiden had accepted. And he was finally weeks away from reclaiming all he’d lost, everything that was rightfully his.
The one thing in the way now was his obsession with Scarlett. There was no other option but to get rid of it.
* * *
In an hour, he was sitting in the back of his limo, his American driver-cum-head bodyguard standing outside for a smoke. He allowed it only since he couldn’t smell him through the airtight partition. And because Steve was the best.
Nothing on his level, of course. But the best in the private security world.
Suddenly he sat up, his senses on alert. The next second, he saw her step out of the building they were parked in front of.
He’d again felt her before he’d seen her.
Scarlett saw him the moment he saw her, stopped.
Holding her gaze across the distance, he threw the door open. “Get in.”
After a moment of stillness, she walked to the limo, her steps graceful, tranquil. The crowds going and coming on the pavement parted for her, everyone turning to look in fascination at the gaijin woman who looked like a living splash of color among the mostly two-tone population.
When she reached the limo, he slid across the backseat, making space for her, and watched greedily as she lowered her lush, elegant body beside him. Her heat and scent enveloped him, made hunger writhe inside him.
She looked different today, yet another woman. Nothing like last night’s femme fatale. A working woman with practical clothes, a scrubbed-clean face and a prim ponytail. She could have been wearing the most outrageous lingerie or even been naked and on erotic display from the way his hormones hurtled in scalding torrents in his arteries.
