Akira Tong for Christmas (6 page)

I’m not really in the mood.”

The guy gave a lusty chuckle. “Well, what will it take to get you in the mood?”

“Perhaps alcohol,” Mr. Tong offered.

Oh my God. I let my hands swim in the water, forcing a casual smile.
Anna, I’m Anna. Think of
Anna
. “I had quite enough of that last night. No more making a fool of myself for another…month, hopefully.”

You moron.

“I can’t help but admire,” Mr. Tong said, “how she seems to have a plan for everything. Even her drunkenness.”

I laughed a little too loudly. “Yes, that’s me. That’s my job.” I glanced around. “Really is a nice place you have, sir.”

“Well, my dear Anna, I haven’t made changes since you’ve last…come. You do remember that occasion?” He erupted in laughter, and the girls giggled like doll puppets.

Heat climbed up my face. “It would appear that I was too drunk to recall.”

“Fine. If you’re not going to entertain my guest…” He leaned and whispered in the girl’s ear on his left. She giggled and turned to Mr. Tong, then promptly undid her bathing suit top and climbed in his lap.

Pain stabbed my gut. “I need to make a phone call. Could you please excuse me?” I grabbed the blanket-sized towel next to the tub, shoved it in the water, wrapped myself in it, and climbed out. All that could be heard was the downpour from the waterlogged blanket as I made my exit.

Trembling with anger, I hurried to the guest bath, got dressed, made my pretend phone call, and headed back to the SUV. Whaddaya know? Mr. Tong was there waiting for me. I got in, he put the vehicle in drive, and we left. He didn’t say a word, didn’t look at me.

But what was he so pissed for? That I didn’t stay and watch him with that girl? Or maybe he was pissed about my lie about being a virgin, which wasn’t a lie. But now he thought I got drunk once a month and threw myself at men, which I’d confirmed last night with him when I’d cried virgin. What a joke he must’ve thought I was. A huge slutty joke. And that bothered him why, exactly? Mr. Tongue-on-Slut not five minutes ago? Ohhhh, because I lied? Honor, truth, character, dignity. Fine for him to be a slut, but not me?

I needed a drink. Next I’d become an alcoholic. I was calling Anna the second I got back. What other harlotries did I need to know about in advance? I gritted my teeth, aching to think she’d stoop to such things. She was too good for that.

“You’re quiet.”

An accusation. I looked at his brooding, gorgeous profile. “Ah yes, not much to say. Think I’ve said enough for one lifetime.”

“You’ve certainly lied enough for one lifetime.”

My heart raced. Which lie was he referring to? Better to assume the only one I was sure about. “I don’t see how that particular lie concerns our business.”

“Oh, it does. We have an impeccable reputation, Ms. Shelby, and we can’t be connected in any way to prostitution.”

I gasped and snapped my head toward him. “Prostitution!”

“Whether you give away your body for money or for free doesn’t matter. Our company’s policies are very strict when it comes to sexual behavior, in and out of the company.” His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and his jaw ticked despite his calm words. I choked on anger. “Well, Mr. Impeccable Reputation. You didn’t seem very concerned when those tits were in your face.”

“How do you think I made it to the SUV faster than you?”

My mouth remained opened with a comeback, only it no longer applied. I finally snorted. “I’m supposed to believe you got out of the tub right after me and…” My words trailed off when he turned those mocha I-don’t-lie-like-you daggers on me.

Dammit! I hated being wrongfully judged. I hated having him think I was a slut when I wasn’t. Except with him—that one time.

I hurried into the bathroom as soon as we walked into the suite. He said he had someplace to go.

Perfect. Oh, he was so pissed. Whatever.

I dialed Anna.

“Hey, you forgot to call me.”

“You sound a little better.” I prayed for the confirmation so I could explode.

“Oh yes, thank—”

“You
whore
!”

“What?”

“We just left an associate of Mr. Tong’s, and it seems he knows you. You’ve performed for him
sexually
.” My voice strained with fury. “He asked me to dance for him like I had last time. Anna! Do you know what a fool I looked like? A
slut
?” I put a hand over my eyes. “And now Mr. Tong thinks I’m a slut too, and after what happened last night—”

“Oh, honey, the man is obviously delusional or mistaken— Wait…what did you say? What happened last night?”

I bit my lip, cringing before gushing the awful confession. “I screwed up. I got drunk. I…I came on to Mr. Tong. And of course he rejected me. Told him I was a virgin and everything. He still rejected me.”

“Ohhh myyyy God,” Anna whispered. “I’m so proud of you for—”

“Proud of me! I threw myself at him like a harlot. And if he has any clue about New York, he’s got to know by now that I’m a fraud. I’ve never lied so many times in one day. Not that I meant to, but they may as well have been lies. I’m pretending they’re true. Oh God, this is going horrible.”

“And he didn’t fire you?”

“What? No, he didn’t fire me. I wished he did. Instead he made me…go with him and—I’m pretty sure that’s some kind of ancient martial arts punishment, forcing the perpetrator to eat the shit they made?”

“You cussed again.”

“Stop it!” I cried. “Stop acting like me lying and cussing and whoring is…is something so great! I feel terrible. And Mr. Tong is… Hell, I don’t know if I can do this. He’s too gorgeous. His feet are even beautiful. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I can hardly be in the same room with him without—”

“Holy saints. You want him!”

“Duh! And he doesn’t even like me. Not even naked.”

“But you were drunk. He didn’t want to take advantage of you.” I was quiet, remembering the way he stroked my cheek. The way he called me beautiful. “He did mention I was drunk.” I gave a long sigh. “But that was sort of stating the obvious. There was no ‘I would if you weren’t drunk.’ I mean the man appeared disgusted and bored when he looked at me. It was a nightmare!” I froze at hearing noise. “I gotta go. Somebody’s here.” I shut the phone and pressed my ear to the door. TV? Music? I did a quick self-examination in the mirror, then hurried out. Tiptoeing toward the sitting room, I heard water running. He was in the shower. I released a breath.

Might as well take my shower too.

Chapter Five

As I showered, I hurried.

But why?

Because I didn’t want him to leave.

But why?

Because you’re nuts.

Ah, yes.

I dressed casual. Really casual—jeans and T-shirt. Jeans that showed off my butt. My fat butt. No matter what I told myself, my body just did what it wanted. And oh, how it wanted him.

I found Mr. Tong standing before the wall of windows. Half-naked as usual. My legs trembled as I admired his nude half in the reflection of the window and his jeaned half from behind. Look at his butt, I thought.

“Do you always stare at people that way?”

Before I could respond, I sucked in a long breath. “It’s snowing still!” He headed to the couch, and I forced my legs to go slowly to the window. “Very nice.”

“I swear you act is if you’ve never seen snow here before.”

Oh crap. “Of course I have. I just…can never get enough of it. Santa Claus is coming to town.” I sang the tune lightly, doing a little twist.

I watched his expression in the window, and my heart thundered when he tilted his head slightly.

Was he…admiring my butt? “Do you always stare at people that way?” He took his sweet time answering. “I was trying to see around you.” With all these windows? God, how I wanted to say it. No sense in pissing or scaring him off.

Christmas was this weekend. So sad he didn’t celebrate. I went to sit on one of the cream leather chairs opposite the couch.

“You have a sister?”

My heart dropped, and I stared at him. Where did that come from? I smiled. “Yes, I do. Do you…

have a sister?”

“No.”

“A brother, then?”

“Yes.”

I nodded, holding my hands on my knees, inspecting the decor. “Is he older than you?”

“Younger.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“It is?”

I cleared my throat. “I mean, to have a little brother. My sister and I are twins.” He was quiet, slamming me with those eyes—felt like he was making love to me with them. Good Lord. “Really.” His answer sounded knowing. But what on earth did he know?

I wished he knew everything. I didn’t care. I just couldn’t stand this secrecy with him. It didn’t seem right. “I have a question for you,” I said.

He quirked one brow in response.

Guess that was good enough. “This is just one of those”—I waved a hand—“suppose things.” I rubbed my palms along my jeans. “Suppose your…brother’s…best friend got sick. And he had a job that was on the line. And um…” I cleared my throat and scratched my cheek. “And your brother decides to help his friend and do his job for him. Only it…requires him to pretend that…he’s his friend. To save his friend’s job because…maybe his mother is sick and it’s his only income. Would you say it was a bad thing? Or a good thing. For your brother to do that for his friend?” I fanned my face. “Hoo, wow, it’s warm in here, don’t you find?” I gestured to his naked torso. “Guess not, with you, umm… I’m gonna get a drink. A soda. Would you like anything? Tea? Wine? Water?”

“I think it would be right.”

I stared at him, mouth still open with ready nonsense. “You…think it would be right?” He nodded. “Now let me ask you a question.”

Oh crap.

“If a father wanted his oldest son to take over the family business. Move to another country. And the son didn’t want to. Do you think the son is wrong to refuse?” Oookay. Personal stuff here. “Well…I think the son…needs to do what he feels is right.”

“The son feels it’s right to obey his father.”

“Then he should.”

“But the son doesn’t want to move to another country and take over the business.”

“What does the son want to do?”

He stared out the window before him. “Live his own life.”

“Then…he should.”

He huffed and looked at me. “He can’t if he’s living his father’s life.”

“Why not?”

Perplexity filled his forehead. “Because he can’t do both.”

I shook my head. “But…why not? Why does his job have to consume his entire life? The son should find people he can trust and build a team to do the job for him when he is busy living his own life. How much time does this son need to live his own dreams? I don’t see why, if the son is a shrewd businessman, he can’t have both.”

He stared at me for what felt like eternal seconds. He chuckled once. Then again. Soon his chuckles turned to laughter. I mean serious laughter. Falling-onto-the-couch laughter. Fits of laughter. What was so cotton-pickin’ funny?

He got up from the couch, walked over to me with a huge grin. “Come here.” He reached for my hand.

I accepted the invitation, and he helped me stand. Then he wrapped his arms around me. And hugged me. The most…sincere…loving…innocent…hug.

A thank-you hug, I realized. Relief and disappointment warred inside me. “Let’s have that drink and celebrate.”

“What are we celebrating?” I asked.

He gestured at the window, as though it should be apparent. “Christmas.”

“You don’t celebrate Christmas.”

He shrugged and lifted a finger. “One day.”

“One day? For what?” I couldn’t hide my huge smile.

“To do whatever you want.”

My brows rose. “Whatever?”

“Except drinking.”

“Okay.” I nodded, grinning. “Okay.” I took a deep, happy breath. “What about our drink celebration?”

He walked off, and I bit my lower lip, watching his butt sway in those jeans, the muscles in his back dancing under that silky skin. He glanced back, and I averted my gaze. “Sit,” he instructed.

“Okay.”

He returned with two glasses of wine, and I took one. “You sure it’s safe?” He gave me a one-sided smile that made me ache between my legs. “One shouldn’t hurt.” Sipping the wine, I happily put my legs on the ottoman. “After this, I’m going to enjoy a gigantic bubble bath and soak my feet.”

He grinned almost mischievously. “I could offer you a foot massage, I suppose.” My stomach flipped at the idea of him touching me. “Nah, that’s not necessary.”
God, please insist.

Please.

“I insist. Let me.” He set his wine down on the table behind him and dropped next to the ottoman at my feet. Yes! Was I dreaming?

He lifted one foot up and promptly began massaging.

“Ohhhh my goodness.” He was truly amazing. “You took classes for this?” He chuckled. “I took classes for everything in the world, it seems.”

“Cooking too?” He worked on the arch of my foot. “God, that feels so good. Is there…another name you go by? I feel so weird calling you mister.”

“You can call me Akira. When we’re alone. And yes, even cooking.” I thought about his name. “Akira. Okay.”

He worked on my heel, and I shut my eyes. He kneaded the arch in my foot in long, deep strokes.

“This is…heaven. I’m not kidding you.”

“You know,” Akira mumbled. “I’d never thought of anything but being the kind of businessman my father was. I thought…I’d end up like him, not owning a company, but a company owning me. It’s the way things are done, a tradition, an honor.” His touch became softer, and heat throbbed between my legs.

“And…I was too caught up in that world to see outside of it. Never had the idea that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to escape it.” His fingers glided up my pant leg onto my ankle.

“Glad…I could help.”

A grin teased his sexy lips as he concentrated on my foot again. “Feels good?” Oh, was it that obvious in my voice? “Still like heaven.”

“Merely a taste of it.”

“Oh good Lord, I don’t think it can get better than this.”

“You have no idea.”

I barely shook my head. “No, I don’t. Nobody’s ever touched me like that.” His fingers slowed for a few seconds. “Fine, I’ll give you a full treatment. But only on your backside. If you don’t mind being in a towel and getting oily.” Mind? So it was that simple for him? Just rubbing down naked women with oil? My body refused to let me be angry, refused to let me deny what I wanted—his hands on me. “Sounds…divine.”