Yawning, she sat up, covered her mouth, and grimaced. She needed to brush her teeth. She found her way in the dimly lit compartment to the bathroom, managing not to trip over her feet in the process. After completing her ablutions, she debated getting back in the bed for a good thirty seconds. She wondered for a brief moment if she should go find her husband. That word felt so weird. Even thinking it was just too brand-new, and she’d not said the word out loud. Akchiro Takeda was her husband. How was that for a conversation starter? One of the most powerful and richest moguls in the world. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. She thought of the uproar it would cause in the Tokyo media when word got out. A sick feeling threatened to overwhelm her. What had she done? The Tekada brothers were as famous in Japan as her brothers were in the US; she’d stepped out of a tornado and right into a tsunami. To think she went to Japan in the first place to get away from fame only to be fully enmeshed in it again. That had to be some serious shit right there. She thought she’d worked out her issues the last year a half, but obviously they rode deeper. She made a promise to discreetly find a therapist in Tokyo.
Stepping into the corridor that led into the main area that Akchiro mainly used as an office, Flower was careful not to be too loud. He was on a conference call. She wondered at the onboard tech he must use to never be out of the loop during his travel. Everything was at the flick of a button. It was to his advantage that they specialized in tech because he definitely needed it. He worked constantly. The only time he did not work was when he was with her. She’d thought it odd that he went right back to work after they’d eaten instead of joining her. He hadn’t stopped working since they boarded, and she knew looking at her watch that they had been in flight for six hours.
“See that everything is ready. Get it done,” he spoke as his eyes lit upon her, watching her as she approached. There was no warmth there. He was all business. He was busy. He looked mildly irritated. The tie he’d worn for their wedding was gone and the top two buttons opened; other than that he looked impeccable. She cringed and mouthed, Sorry, and turned, heading back to the bedchamber.
“Hold please,” then, “Flower.”
She turned halfway between his desk and corridor, having hurried to get away from his aloofness.
“I was having one of my assistants prepare a packet for you to ensure your success when we get to Tokyo.”
“I didn’t realize I would need a crash course on the Tokyo elite,” she deadpanned.
“You do. In order to navigate the waters successfully, you need to know everything there is to know about the people you with whom you will come in contact. Normally my wife would have been studying this from the moment she was she was a teen. There are many nuances about our culture that you should know. You will be given a pass, but only for a short time. I have given instructions to refuse all invitations for the next few weeks. That should give you enough time get a preliminary education.” She understood then just how much out of the norm his behavior was and would perceived by his social set. They would not turn kind eyes on him for marrying outside of their bubble. He had been expected to marry a woman from his social circle.
“What does your mother think about you marrying an American? Me, an African American?” She girded herself for the letdown.
“She knows. My mother has known about you from the beginning.” He leaned back, spearing her with a look that spoke volumes about honesty and transparency. “She knows everything except what I have recently discovered about our miscarriage.” He blinked slowly then looked away saying those words and her heart tore.
“What does she think? Does she approve?” She tapped her foot, anxious to be done with this conversation.
“Does it matter?” He sounded impatient now. Agitated. She knew he was as close to his mother as she was to her family. How she felt about this entire situation would matter to him.
“Well, yes. We are family now.” His lack of an answer made her anxiety ratchet up.
“Not all of your family approves of me.” He tapped his finger on the table for emphasis.
“They do now…”
His scoffing laugh cut her off. “Come on, Flower, FADE could barely contain himself from trying to punch me.”
“That’s over now. He said you were his brother today,” she defended. “And you haven’t answered me.”
“She hasn’t responded to my message about our wedding. That is because she is more than likely disappointed and upset that I didn’t inform her of my decision. My mother will respect my choice in you as my wife. You don’t have to worry about that. She will be your fiercest ally. She would do nothing to dishonor our family. Her only expectation would be that you do the same and be a good wife to me.” He spoke with such calm certainty that Flower believed him. She was just as sure that he left quite a bit unsaid.
“Now, what did you need?” He signaled that part of the conversation was at an end, casting his eyes back to the work before him.
“I didn’t want anything, really. I was just wondering when or if you were coming to bed.” She could’ve kicked herself as she watched as he canted his head at her words and leaned back slightly, taking her in from behind his laptop. They’d lived together for months, and she’d never before interrupted his work. He had to think she was losing it or suddenly needy.
“No.” He moved to depress the button. The way he said it, though…
“Do you mean on the flight or ever?” She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step toward him.
Were they back to square one like they’d been when he’d first found her in New York? He looked so coolly austere behind that desk and she wanted to both ease away from his gaze as well as cuddle up on his lap. There was not to be an invitation given, it seemed.
“I don’t know. We’ll see.”
Flower took a step back as if struck. What was he talking about? They’d just gotten married. They should be…anything—just not this!
“Akchiro…”
“I’m working, Flower.” The cold, clipped words made her hug herself tighter, tucking her fingers into folded arms in an effort hide her trembling. If he noticed, he didn’t give any indication. She noticed that he’d not resumed the call.
“Today, was that for my parents’ benefit? Your being so polite and kind to me.” His eyes flashed at the challenge of her words.
“No, it was for you. I would never dishonor you in front of your parents by being rude to you or them. When have you ever seen me act in such an obtuse manner? What is between us will remain between us and not aired in the public. Ever.” He rolled his fountain pen between his fingers as he assessed her. She wondered if he found her wanting, if he regretted his choice.
“People fight, Akchiro, sometimes in public.”
He leaned forward, his eyes spearing through her straight to her heart. His words were clear and nuanced as if making sure she understood every one. “That is not the way of the Takeda. We will not dishonor our family and bring shame upon them by acting in such a base manner. Am I clear, Flower?”
“Crystal. So, to be clear. You married me, but we are back to being like we were when you first came to New York? Is that the type of marriage you want? Because I didn’t sign up for that.” Her voice was rising, and she could feel herself getting upset, her cheeks were heating, her breath coming fast. Damn him for doing this to her.
“No, you didn’t sign up for any of this. You wanted me gone so that you could do whatever you wanted with my child if you chose to keep it. The only reason we are here now and married is because of me. I had to fight you every step of the way to make it happen. Don’t start acting like you wanted a family with me, Flower. You were perfectly fine with me never knowing my child.” He seethed with resentment. How he must hate her now. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Could anything be salvaged?
“That is unfair and untrue. I was going to tell you about this baby. I just didn’t know how to tell you about the miscarriage.” Her voice gave out on the last
word. The words tore at her again and again. Each time she spoke of losing their baby, she just wanted him to hold her. She needed his comfort. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I’m sorry for all of this.” She turned and walked away with tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks.
Akchiro cursed himself as he watched Flower walk away. As much as he wanted to go to her. His work and his company, hell, their futures were at stake. His frustration was high. He knew he’d taken some of that out on her. Nor could he lie about the anger he felt toward her. To think as he searched for her, she and their child could have been dead. That she’d chosen not to have him by her side when she miscarried cut him clear to his soul. Coupled with the fact that everyone close to her knew and held the secret until she was ready didn’t leave him feeling trusted or loved—the word she dared throw in his face as if he were the villain in this situation. Attend her he would, but he had to secure their future first. As long as she was with him, they could manage. All the emotional theatrics would have to wait until they were settled at home.
The rumblings of insurrection and takeover were getting louder, and he knew he had more to face when he got home and the story broke that he’d taken an American wife. The Japanese elite were a homogenous group, and for him to seek outside of it to marry was unheard of. The backlash would be intense. He’d already scheduled a press release regarding his nuptials and knew that the firestorm awaiting them would not abate until he introduced Flower to society and she’d successfully navigated her way through the nest of vipers that were the wives of the titans of industry. Anything short of a cool demeanor would be frowned upon. If she faced them as she did colleagues, she would be fine, however, if she had another episode like tonight, she’d be torn to shreds. Then there would be a bloodbath as yet untold, for he—the Takeda would not countenance any disrespect to his wife. His status and honor demanded that he leave no insult unanswered.
He sighed, knowing he had been too harsh, thinking back to how brave she looked moments ago confronting him. Depressing the button, he rescheduled the call with one of his lead assistants and got up, stretching his back. She was his wife. His heart soared at the word. She was his by his tradition and her own. He thought back to how beautiful her smile was as her father spoke his blessing upon their marriage. He remembered how she kept touching the ring over and over again. Rubbing across their kanji he’d had inscribed within the inner edge. He had been unkind. The thought spurred him into movement and down the corridor.
She was curled into herself. Weeping. It broke him. He eased down beside her. As soon as he touched her shoulder, she turned toward him and buried her head in his neck. He could feel her now silent tears rolling into his collar. He gathered her closer. Smoothing her hair out of the way. Rubbing circles along her back. He didn’t give fake reassurances or anything of that nature. He would not lie and say everything would be fine because he honestly wasn’t sure if it would be. She was crying, but his heart was torn asunder. His eyes burned. He swallowed past the knot in his throat. He’d only found out in the last few hours that he was going to be a father and had lost a child. Now he understood so much better the days when she’d seemed to not be able to shake sadness. Something that had not been there before she’d left him in Tokyo.
He tamped down his anger. It was only banked because his spirit bucked at the thought that she didn’t trust him. All the days she’d rather suffer in silence than tell him that their child had died. Days they could have held each other and found their way through the grief. She’d denied them both, and he wasn’t sure if he had that type of forgiveness in him. The betrayal cut as deep as it had the day before. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from holding her close. He was glad at that moment she was burrowed beneath him because he was sure his expression would freeze her in her tracks and only cause her more pain. That would not do. No bride should cry herself to sleep on her wedding night. The only cries should be those of pleasure and joy. Now was not the time for lovemaking for either of them. They needed to feel these emotions and be honest when the time came.
He would not use sex to anesthetize either of them and he had so many concerns about making love to her like he normally did—he didn’t know why she miscarried the first time. He clearly remembered how intensely they made love before and how relentless he was to possess every part of her. He’d taken her several times that night well into the next morning when he left for work. A discomforting thought wormed its way into his head and wouldn’t let go. Did that night cause them to lose their baby? Did Flower blame him?
Akchiro lay there—holding his wife as she cried—well into the night, long after she’d fallen asleep. He dared not move too much, lest he woke her. He tried to get past it. He tried to reason with the darker part of himself, the one that wanted to howl into the void at the injustice done to him. His child gone. His woman alone by her own choosing. He wanted to rein himself in. The him who always promised retribution. The one who felt things for Flower he dared not name. He wished he could be the type of man who could simply find solace in what he had and not seek to punish. He was not that man. He would never be that man. He annihilated that type of man. He was the man who crossed oceans to get his woman. He was the man who would stop at nothing to get her and keep her and his child safe and protected by his side. There were many occurrences in life that you could not control, but his company and his fucking wife would not be among those things. Her reasons did not matter; she was with him now and he would never let her go.
As the dawn broke, casting a thin ray on the panel, Akchiro eased out of the bed, careful not to wake his sleeping wife. She clung to him all night, her sleep fitful, and he knew she hadn’t slept well despite him holding her all night. Exhaustion and sadness had finally taken its toll. He was resolved that he would honor Flower. He would show her she could trust him, not run from him. She would find comfort in knowing unequivocally she was part of him. He could not let his anger and pain fester, nor would he leave it unanswered. Flower had her own proving to do.
The crush of people and paparazzi reminded Flower of the first tour of FADE’s she’d been allowed on. It was the summer of her sophomore year in college, and the only reason she’d been allowed to go was because she had been technically an adult. Her parents had only been mollified because she had never given them reason to worry. Always the first in her class, volunteering at her father’s church even when it wasn’t his church anymore after FADE made it big and his fame became too much for the folks back home. Never a problem was Flower, so the tour was a grudging yes. FADE and Ghadi were also like two surrogate parents with their constant hovering. She’d found ways to escape them, their entourages, adoring fans and the press. That would not be the case here, she thought, her heart tripping at the thought. There was no adoration, the kindest thing being curiosity on the faces of the people they passed, some showed outright animosity like how dare she ensnare one of their sacred sons. She’d be glad to disabuse them of the notion. He came for her.
The press was way closer than she’d thought they’d be allowed to be, considering Akchiro’s guards. They’d been swarmed as soon as they passed the customs agents, and they still had a gauntlet of cameras to go through. There were dozens of them with microphones pressing in their faces; cameras flashed incessantly and the rude questions would not stop.
She kept her eyes ahead as they walked single file. She laser focused on Akchiro’s back as he strode ahead of her. She felt rushed. She knew he’d slowed his longer stride to allow her to keep up. Flower wanted to hold his hand so badly yet knew better than to suggest it. He would never do such a base thing in public as show anything other than his cool, businesslike demeanor. She would just have to keep the smile on her face and keep it moving in the direction they were being led by the security in front of them. She was glad she had on her sunglasses. They served a double purpose, covering the emotions that she may not be able to hide and the evident lack of sleep she had on her face. She tried to cover any telltale smudges under her ey
es with makeup, but she still looked a sight. She looked haggard to herself, and from Akchiro’s assessing glance when she appeared this morning, he probably thought so as well.
She was used to hearing her name shouted when she was out with one of her brothers, and she liked the Japanese version, Hana, and she loved when Akchiro called her that, especially when they made love. She did not like, however, having questions thrown at her about her brother, implying that he was a criminal and she one as well. She’d saw Akchiro’s jaw harden ever so slightly when that insult was hurled before the guards advised them to walk in a line formation. She knew no one else would have known him well enough or have been close enough to note it. She knew him well enough to know that when his gaze flickered to the reporter who first uttered the asinine insult-laced question that his career in journalism was pretty much over. She would tell him not to even bother because now it had caught on and all of them were asking questions about FADE. Great. Another reason for him to be annoyed with her.
“How did you meet?”
“Is it true you ran away from Akchiro-san, taking his mother’s diamond brooch?”
“Hana-san, were you employed at BITE as sources claim?”
“Have you been married secretly for more than a year?”
The questions were unrelenting. She knew from experience that to answer any would open the floodgates to more. Press releases, carefully orchestrated appearances, and press conferences were the way of the world for the famous the world over. She closed her eyes for a second at the thought of having to hire a PR representative. She was sure that as large as Takeda was, they had people. That pause would cost her, it seemed, because in that moment she was cut off from her husband and surround by very aggressive press.
Lotus Flower Bomb: The Mogul Series Book Two Page 19
