His Revenge Baby: 50 Loving States, Washington (2 page)

The sun had still been high in the sky when she’d first walked into the Osaka Nakamura Worldwide building. But thanks to the picture windows lining both sides of the corner office, she could now see it sinking behind a bank of low hanging clouds on the horizon, casting the city and the Yodo River in interesting cross shades of orange and pink. Osaka had turned its lights on, its usual dull brown and white cityscape now lit up in brightly colored neon and LEDs.

The office windows had some kind of dark film on them, she noticed. Which meant she could see out, but no one could see in. Not that anyone could see in anyway. They were too high up. This was the tallest building for miles and miles, with nothing to disrupt the view but clouds. Still, if a helicopter flew by, or Spiderman decided to scale the building or anything like that, she’d be safe from prying eyes, she supposed.

Oh God, Lilli, why are you thinking about helicopters and Spiderman? Or about
anyone outside this room?

This rather cold room.

Lilli shivered. It had been warm enough in the outer office, but the office was a good ten degrees cooler than the one she’d just left.
On purpose?
she had to wonder as her nipples pebbled and goosebumps raised on her arms.

She looked around the office, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. For someone who’d insisted on seeing her naked, Lilli didn’t understand why Mr.

Nakamura hadn’t turned on the lights in his office. In fact, the only light in this cold space was from the setting sun. Nevertheless, she could just make out the main details of the room. Ebony hardwood floors, abstract modern sculptures, a simple desk made of beautifully marbled wood, and…

Her eyes widened when she saw the man sitting behind the desk.

“It’s you!”

Chapter Two

IT WAS HER. It was really her.

Riyu had told him only one candidate remained in the area. One
completely
unsuitable
candidate. So No hadn’t expected much. Just one more disappointing interview in a string of disappointing interviews. But now here she was, padding into his office on bare feet. He watched her look around, her eyes as big and brown as a Nara deer as she took in his office.

Yes, it was definitely her. The girl from the end-of-season party his father had thrown for the Nakamura Hawks.

The Hawks franchise had strict rules concerning their players. No sex for at least two days before a game, even with wives. No alcohol during the season. No excessive weight gain. No drugs of any kind, ever. And the players were carefully monitored to ensure they abided by these rules.

Therefore, the end-of-season party was, at its basest form, a reward to the players for eight months of squeaky clean living.

A bacchanal complete with alcohol, food, and all the sex the players could want, courtesy of Osaka Charm, the same upscale service that had been supplying the men of the Nakamura family with mistresses since the eighties.

He and his brother, Hayato, usually only attended those parties as a courtesy to his father, Kazuo Nakamura. Baseball was Kazuo’s favorite past time. In fact, the team had been a gift from Norio’s grandfather on his son’s second, much more auspicious, wedding day. As head of RoTeku, Nakamura Worldwide’s robotics division, No had barely paid attention to the game until this year. And as part of the marketing department, Hayato could barely be bothered with the least profitable subsidiary of their global company.

But RoTeku had recently provided the team with a new mascot: a bipedal humanoid robot that could throw underhand pitches. So at tonight’s party, both No and Hayato would stand beside his father as Kazuo announced the mascot change to the team.

Baseball players in general tended to be a superstitious lot, and Japanese players even more so. No knew his father would expect his sons to field any questions or protests the drunken players might have about the unexpected removal of the team’s previous mascot—a large hawk.

As his father often said,
solidarity in all things so our decisions are never considered
weak.

Also, attending this party had been a good way to avoid an uncomfortable conversation with his current Osaka Charm mistress. An Australian sous chef who’d decided to stay on in Japan, even after her working holiday visa was up. A natural blond with a degree in the culinary arts and almost flawless Japanese, she was popular at the agency, and it had cost rather a lot to secure her exclusively for a full six month period. Luckily, No had rather a lot of money, and the sous chef had been worth it.

She was more than adept in bed and he’d enjoyed the meals she made for him. But unlike many of his Japanese mistresses, she didn’t seem to fully grasp their relationship’s time constraints. Six months. No more. Possibly less. This was his standard contract. What he preferred.

Unfortunately, the Australian mistress had become pushy of late. Hinting at a desire for a new arrangement between them after her six months were up. No had no wish to anger her, but he also had no wish to be with her beyond their contracted time. After all, he only had a year left before he’d be required to settle down with whatever distinguished woman from a good family his father chose for him.

He wouldn’t exactly say the Nakamura family was the product of a series of arranged marriages. In fact, his father had married a Chinese woman against his own father’s wishes. But the marriage had gone poorly. So poorly that it had ended in the Chinese wife’s suicide and his father’s estrangement from the
hafu
—half Chinese, half Japanese—son he’d had with her. His second wife, No and Hayato’s mother, had been chosen by No’s grandfather, a Japanese beauty who like the Nakamuras, hailed from a great samurai clan.

Kazuo Nakamura had recently informed Norio, his oldest “full” Japanese son, that he hadn’t any intention of letting him make the same mistakes he had. He was already reviewing a list of possible candidates, and hoped to announce No’s engagement at the end of next year’s baseball season.

So
iie
, with less than a year to go until his lifelong marriage sentence would begin, No didn’t want to waste his time with just one woman. No matter how wonderfully she cooked.

“Do you think we can go somewhere quiet and have a little chat later?” Carina asked as their limo approached Void, the high-end nightclub Nakamura Worldwide had rented out for the party. “It’s the last night of my contract.”

Hai
, he was deeply aware of this, and already putting together a mental composite of what his next mistress would look like. Maybe a Russian girl this time. Or perhaps a Brazilian….

But to the woman currently on his arm, he simply said, “We will see,” before getting out of the car.

As they walked to the nightclub entrance, side-by-side but as far apart as two people could get, he wondered if he’d be able to stave off this uncomfortable conversation long enough to have sex tonight. It might not be worth the effort. He’d have to run a cost benefit analysis while putting in his time at this party.

Putting in his time.
Another prison reference
, he couldn’t help but notice. Funny and somewhat disturbing how he’d been referring to his life that way lately.

“You can no go. Osaka Charm girls only tonight,” a nearby voice was saying in broken English.

“Yes, I know I’m not on the list, but listen, I am an Osaka Charm girl, okay?” an American accented voice replied. “Doug Tucker invited me. I just need to get inside for a second and find him. Then he’ll come back out here and vouch for me, okay?”

No’s head tilted at the scene before him: a young black woman in a denim sundress pleading with the short but stocky security guard standing outside the club’s large metal door.

She wasn’t beautiful. At least not in the traditional sense. Her dress was cheap, her shoes mere sandals, and as for her nose…nearly every woman in his circle who’d had one even half as wide growing up, no longer did after the age of eighteen, which was when most plastic surgeons deemed it safe to operate.

But he couldn’t say she wasn’t mesmerizing. The woman had huge brown eyes, and under her cheap dress, rich and bountiful curves. And her hair…

No didn’t bother to keep up with most trends in Japan, but even he couldn’t help but be impressed by the lush thickness of her hair. It wasn’t so much a uniform afro as a shoulder-to-shoulder riot of black curls.

He was old school Japanese. Like his forefathers, he rarely touched women outside the bedroom, and especially not in public. Yet he found himself wanting to touch this woman’s curls. Wanting to touch her, with a need so sudden, the piercing ache took him by surprise.

“I am sorry. You are not on—” the guard was telling her in more broken English.

Only to stop talking as soon as he saw No.

“Oh! So sorry. Sorry!” the guard said, profusely apologizing to Norio Nakamura in Japanese, and bowing again and again as he undid the velvet rope.

“Let her in,” No commanded him, also in Japanese.

“Yes, of course,” the guard answered, bowing toward Carina. “She is your guest.”

“Not her. The American girl in the blue dress. Let her in, too.”

“Ooh, a black girl,” Carina said in Japanese, her blue eyes brightening with understanding. “We’ve never brought one of those home before. Nice palette cleanser!”

Carina then showed herself not to be nearly as reserved as her Japanese counterparts. With a sly smile, she took the young black woman by the hand and said,

“Come with us, hon,” as she pulled her into the dim, neon-lined hallway of the club.

The music was already thumping loudly as they walked down the hallway, thanks to the famous French DJ Nakamura Worldwide had flown in specifically for the event. A major expense, along with renting out one of Osaka’s most popular night clubs on a Friday night—also not cheap. Fortunately, Nakamura was one of the largest car and electronics manufacturers in the world, so they could easily afford it.

“What’s your rate, love?” Carina asked the American girl, yelling over the music.

“Um…” the girl answered.

Her eyes darted to No, back to Carina…and then she carefully withdrew her hand from the Australian’s grasp.

“That question is very flattering. Seriously, so flattering. But I really have to go find my—ah, Doug. He’s the one who invited me here, so…bye.”

“But—” Carina started, but the other woman darted into the belly of the warehouse Void used to be before it was converted into a trendy nightclub. And she was gone before Carina had the chance to explain how much more lucrative time spent with Norio Nakamura would be than with a measly team player. Carina barely had time to shout out, “Wait, we have seats in VIP! You could join us!” before the young woman had vanished.

However, the American girl’s hair made her easy to locate, once he and Carina settled into Void’s VIP area, a collection of black leather couches and small circular tables on the landing that overlooked the entire club.

“Go get her,” No instructed Carina, tipping his chin toward the woman weaving through the crowd

“It’s our last night together, Mr. Nakamura,” Carina whined in English. “And she’s obviously here for the baseball players.”

Obviously.

From his position, he watched the young woman wade through the crowd toward a black baseball player.

Doug Tucker. The one she’d come to see.

The American baseball player was dancing with a tall redhead in a body con dress.

No other black girls had been invited to this party that No could see. However, upon seeing the girl in the denim dress, Tucker swept her up in his arms and began swaying side to side with her to the beat of the electronic music.

Indignation flooded No’s brain as he watched the two move together. Foreign women could be like that, he’d found. Going for the star athlete instead of the business man, letting fame outweigh the possibilities of what the right Japanese boyfriend could do for you.

But Tucker, he noted with annoyance, wasn’t even one of the team’s top players. A thirty-five-year-old who’d seen better days playing with the Seattle Fishers—his father’s favorite American team. Had it not been for Tucker’s connection with the Fishers, he would never have been hired twelve years ago. As it was, he most likely wouldn’t have his contract renewed for the next season. So by choosing Tucker over him, the black woman showed very poor judgement indeed.

Nonetheless…

“Explain who I am so she fully understands,” he told Carina. “Then invite her to join us tonight.”

Carina didn’t look happy about his edict. But ever the consummate professional—

one who was getting paid a small fortune to make his every fantasy come true—she deferred with a nod. “

A nod he barely acknowledged before returning his gaze to the scene below. No’s anger flared again as he continued to watch the woman with Tucker. Something inside him had determined she was already his. Not just for tonight, but quite possibly for the next six months if his body continued to respond to her as it was now.

However, she was currently tugging on Tucker’s arm. Perhaps trying to pull him toward one of the back rooms Osaka Charm would have designated for assignations during this event.

But Tucker shook his head and returned to the redhead, as if she could even

compare with the girl who wanted him to come with her.

“I would like for you to go
now
please,” he said to Carina who still hadn’t moved from her position beside him. He needed her to get there before the American player could be persuaded to leave with the woman, and No lost his chance.

Carina went. But almost as soon as she left, someone said,

“Hayato, your brother must be distracted. Otherwise he would not show us such disrespect.”

No turned to see his brother and father standing there with Osaka Charm girls at their sides. Hayato had a Japanese girl beside him, most likely hired just for tonight, since his brother didn’t keep mistresses. However, his father also had a girl No had never met with him. Chinese, No guessed, because they always were. And this one looked even younger than Carina. An interesting choice of mistress for a man who’d so easily dumped his first wife to marry someone Norio’s grandfather had deemed more appropriate.