A Gentleman in the Street (12 page)

He had to fix this. He had to make things up to Akira
.

Plot achieved. Now, he just had to figure out the details.

Connor motioned to the bartender and held up three fingers. “You need to refresh your drink,” he said to Jacob when he protested. “And we’re going to be here a while.”

Ben nodded. “You’ve come to the right place. Connor’s been apologizing for being an asshole for way longer than fourteen years.”

Without even looking his way, Connor reached out and slapped Ben on the side of his head. Hard. “Ow!”

Jacob squinted. Dear Lord. He was screwed, but his resources were limited. “Boys.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

Contrary to popular rumors, Akira’s bedroom ceiling was not bedecked with mirrors, dirty etchings, and crystal chandeliers. Though, on nights like these, when she spent most every minute contemplating the damn thing, it might be nice to have something to look at. It would take her attention from the thought of Jacob’s hot gaze on her body in that storage closet, the heavy weight of his palm over her mouth, capturing her cries as Remy drove into her, the regret and pain dripping off him after…

Akira’s phone chimed a text alert on her bedside table, startling her. Almost six a.m. Though it was still dark out, by this time of day she would usually already be awake and raring to go.

Grateful for the distraction, she rolled over and grabbed the device, the simple movement painful. Boiling emotions made for a potent cocktail. Whiskey had never given her a pounding headache quite like this.

So sorry I missed your call a couple days ago!! Wyatt and I were at a party. Am awake now, call me when you want.

Warmth leached through her exhaustion. In the wake of the devastating charity dinner two nights ago, she’d forgotten she had left a message for Tatiana. Her circle of friends was deliberately small, and since she had crossed paths with the jewelry designer at a flea market years ago, Tatiana Belikov had quickly been elevated to the ranks of those she trusted.

Now a successful artist who commanded high prices for her art, Tatiana spent a good deal of her time in Vegas with her new husband. The distance hadn’t affected their friendship. Eager to have something else to concentrate on, Akira quickly initiated a video call.

The phone only rang twice before the connection was established, and she caught the petite blonde mid-yawn. “Why are we awake? It is too fucking early for decent people to be awake,” she greeted Akira.

“You texted me.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve got meetings with vendors all day
,
and I wanted to get some work time in.” Tatiana took a bracing gulp from the mug she held. Despite her complaining, her gaze was alert, which told Akira this was probably her friend’s second cup of coffee. “I figured you might already be at the office. I don’t know how you do this every morning.” Tatiana eyed her. “But since you’re naked, I’m guessing you’re still at home.”

Akira sat up against the mound of pillows. Only the upper slopes of her breasts were visible to Tatiana. Not like she would be terribly upset if more was revealed. The other woman had been to her house parties, and they had shared a few adventures together. “I’m still in bed. Of course I’m naked.”

Tatiana’s rosebud lips pursed. “Wyatt’s going to be sad you called after he left.”

Akira half-smiled. “How is your sexy husband? I heard he had a less
-
than
-
stellar last quarter.”

“Damn, you really can’t stand me having someone richer than you in my life, can you?”

Akira stroked a strand of her hair. “Just making conversation.”

“My husband is doing fine, thanks, despite his financial woes.” A secret smile curved Tatiana’s lips. Probably because she was still tickled to call the man her “husband”
.

A pang of something foreign and unwelcome shot through Akira’s system. She wasn’t jealous of the other woman, Akira assured herself. As much as she had grown to like Wyatt, she didn’t crave him for herself. She could see herself with that kind of cold, dominant man for a night or two—any more and she would slit his throat and leave him in a ditch somewhere.

Maybe it was simply wistfulness she was experiencing at how happy Tatiana appeared. She identified with Tatiana—neither of them fit the mold the world considered appropriate for women. Neither of them particularly cared.

It was rare, in Akira’s experience, to find people who understood and accepted women like them as they were. To find one you would want to tie yourself to for life? Tatiana had discovered a needle in a haystack. “You know you can back out still, if you’re worried about his financial solvency,” Akira responded. “I’m sure a Vegas divorce is as easy to obtain as a Vegas marriage certificate.”

Tatiana snorted. “Please. As if I married him for his money.”

A person only had to look at Tatiana and Wyatt together to know why they had married. Even to a cynic like her, their love was practically an incandescent entity.

Akira shifted, inadvertently flashing Tatiana with her breast. The other woman sighed. “Wyatt’s going to be so sad he missed this call.”

“If he gets his financials back up, he could get back to playing instead of working.”

“I’ll be sure to pass that message along.” Tatiana paused to take another sip of her coffee. “Now, what’s up with you?”

Akira curled her legs beneath her, the silk of her sheets rasping against her shaved legs. “I found the box.”

Tatiana’s loud squeal came through the connection. “Get out. Can I see?”

Since she had been loath to be separated from it, the thing was sitting on her nightstand. She leaned over and picked it up, holding it so Tatiana could view it.

Tatiana was silent for a moment and then sighed. “That is some fine craftsmanship. I’ve never seen a puzzle box so intricate before. How many moves?”

“Two hundred and twenty-six
.
” The panels on the sides of the box slid back and forth and had to be manipulated in a certain sequence in order to get inside. Better than a diary with a lock and key.

Akira had been careful not to mention her grandmother’s box to many people
.
However, Tatiana could be trusted. Plus, she was an artist and had contacts Akira had been aware might come in handy.

“When did you find it?”

She recalled that glorious instant she had realized what she’d held, dressed down in Jacob’s mundane shopping bag. “Last week.”

“And you waited until now to tell me?”

“I’ve been busy. Sorry.”

“If you want to send me photos of it, I have a couple of colleagues in Japan who might be able to help you track down the company that made that box, if it’s still in business,” Tatiana offered, affirming Akira’s decision to bring the other woman into her confidence. “I mean, I’m sure you have resources there too, but…”

“Actually, I don’t. None in this particular sector.” Except for her paternal grandmother, whom she had never met, Akira’s parents and grandparents had all been born and raised outside of Japan—her father’s side in Europe, her mother’s in the United States. If she had relatives remaining in Japan, she didn’t know them.

She had established a nightclub in Tokyo, but her contacts through that were limited to others in the nightlife and hospitality industries. “I’d appreciate your help. Though I have no idea if it was a company or a solo craftsman that made it, or when
.
My great-grandfather gave it to my grandma when she was young.” She turned it over in her hand, the sound of the contents tumbling inside oddly comforting her. “As far as I can tell, there’s no craftsman mark.”

“Hmm. Well, send me the photos anyway. Do you know what’s inside?”

“No. My grandma knew how to open it, but whenever I would try to grab it, she’d laugh and tell me it was a secret. She’d tell me only when she was older, so I would be able to open it after she died.” Akira paused. Her poor grandmother had been wholly unaware she would suffer a fatal stroke when Akira was nineteen, leaving the box in ignorant hands. “I have fiddled with it a little, wondering if I could get it open.”

“I wouldn’t have the patience,” Tatiana said dryly. “I’d probably get frustrated and smash it after a day or so.”

As much as Akira wanted to claim she would be capable of calmly manipulating the panels forever until she found the proper sequence of moves, she knew that was a lie. Sitting still had never been her forte.

Tatiana frowned. “When I traveled to Japan, I saw these boxes in a couple of high-end stores, so someone is still making them. Maybe any manufacturer can give you some pointers, or if you send them the box, they can open it for you. That way you don’t have to resort to the hammer.”

Something within Akira shied away from the thought of someone far away handling her grandmother’s treasure. The box itself was as important as what was inside it. “I’ll send you the pictures,” she said. “Let’s start there. In the meantime, I’ll keep poking at it.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for them. Where’d you find it, anyway? I thought you searched your mother’s house from top to bottom.”

Akira tensed, Jacob’s stupid
,
sexy face rushing right back to the forefront of her brain. It appeared she would have no peace from the man. “My mother had given it to her ex-stepchild before she died. He returned it to me after I went to see him.” Speaking of which, she would have to come up with some way to compensate the Campbells. Jacob could take the high and mighty
,
saintlike road all he wanted, blathering on about who had a moral right to the box. Legally, Kati Campbell had a proper claim. Akira refused to be beholden to Jacob in any way.

“Uh
-
oh.” Tatiana raised a honey
-
brown eyebrow. “I sense a story there.”

Akira shook her head, unwilling to discuss the anger, resentment, pity
,
and desire making up her feelings toward that man.

The last emotion was the most annoying. Now that she had discovered the truth about Jacob’s issues with her, nothing could ever come of it, which was a damn shame given his talented tongue. She demanded respect from her sexual partners, and she respected them in turn. As much as she lusted after Jacob
,
and as much as he might lust after her, he didn’t like her. Or want to want her. That was something that couldn’t be changed.

You have kind of been a dick to him over the years too,
an unassailably honest part of her whispered.

It had been in self-defense, she assured herself. Driving people crazy was her time-honored way of dealing with those who disapproved of her. Give them exactly what they were looking for and they would never look any deeper.

She forced a smile for Tatiana. “No story.”

“I’m happy for you, Akira. You must feel relieved to have found this
.
”

She should. After all, she’d won. Recovered her grandmother’s possession.

So why did she still feel so damn itchy and off-kilter?

“I do feel great,” she lied to Tatiana. “I’ll be in touch. I owe you one.”

“Next time I’m in town, I expect a house party in my honor.”

“Already done and planned, love.”

They made plans to speak next week, and Akira hung up. She sat for a moment, pulling together the will to haul herself off the bed. Yesterday had been difficult. Marching herself off to work, putting on her cool, collected face, pretending nothing was wrong, when all the while she wanted to curl up under her covers and eat ice cream. Today would be easier. It had to get easier, right?

How much power will you give this one, insignificant man?

She showered and dressed in record time, aware that if she dawdled, she might be tempted to return to her large bed. Makeup was essential to cover the dark shadows under her eyes, but that didn’t take long either. While she might give the impression of high maintenance, she had learned long ago the value of efficiency with regards to her personal hygiene. She could probably make up her face in the time it took most women to select a lip color.

She was fastening her watch as she strode down the stairs, directly to the front door. Since she had gotten a late start, she would grab some coffee and a bagel on the way to work.

Akira almost stepped on the package on her doorstep, the crinkle of paper beneath her heel startling her into pulling back
.

On the front stoop lay a large bouquet of wildflowers, simply wrapped in brown butcher paper and tied with twine. Curious, she leaned down and picked up the offering. It wasn’t unusual for flowers to be delivered to her door, but the sunny mix of orange and yellow wildflowers, the ends unevenly cut, was out of the ordinary. Plus, it was early, far too early for a floral delivery, and this—she held up her fingers, where a stray bit of dirt clung to her skin—didn’t look like it had come from the local high
-
end florist.

A small piece of yellow paper peeked out from the brown paper. She pulled it out. AKIRA, it spelled out in scrawled block letters. She flipped it over. Nothing.
No florist she knew of would use a Post-It for a card.

She shifted her bag and the bouquet to one arm and buried her face in the blooms, inhaling the sunshine.

Orange is my favorite color.

She shook her head. As if Jacob had trekked out here to leave her these.

High heels clicking on the flagstone, she went back into the house. Only one member of her staff stayed on premises—the rest would come in much later in the day. She pressed the intercom next to the door. “Harris?”

Her butler/housekeeper appeared almost before she finished the word. Harris had come highly recommended by a friend of a friend. In the six years he’d worked for Akira, she had never regretted her decision to hire the small, always impeccably dressed man. Dour, discreet, loyal
,
and unflappable, he was the perfect person to man her household, barely blinking at even her most outrageous requests. She was certain he didn’t miss a thing, including the flowers in her arms.

“Yes, Ms. Akira. Good morning,” he intoned, as if it were perfectly normal to find the mistress of the house clutching a clumsily wrapped bouquet in the early morning.