Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
He gave me a thoughtful smile. “Ms. Palmer, I’ve also been instructed to inform you that Mr. Sato’s personal chef is on his way. He’ll be preparing breakfast for you and your friend shortly.”
I blinked. “Wait, what?”
“The Dragon requests to know if you have any allergies. Specifically, to lobster or champagne.”
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from squealing. “Uh—no. I mean, no allergies.”
You’re spoiling me, Kenji.
He wasn’t a naughty dragon. He was a very smooth one.
I straightened, suddenly feeling underdressed in my rumpled nightshirt and bare legs. “Lobster’s fine. Champagne’s great.”
He nodded solemnly and pulled a slim phone from the inside of his coat. His fingers moved fast over the screen, thumb gliding like he was inputting a hit list, not my breakfast preferences.
“Also.” The man put up the phone, then reached into another pocket, and produced a sleek black card with gold lettering embossed across the front. He extended it between two gloved fingers. “Here you go.”
I didn’t take it right away.
I just stared.
The words Four Seasons Tokyo at Otemachi shimmered across the card. Beneath it: Imperial Lotus Suite – 58th Floor.
I looked up at him. “What is this?”
He offered the smallest of bows. “The Dragon says that if your friend’s futon ever becomes uncomfortable. . .this keycard opens your suite.”
“Suite?”
He nodded. “The Imperial Lotus Suite. It’s been reserved for you indefinitely.”
Holy shit.
I took the card with trembling fingers.
It felt heavier than I expected.
He continued, “Your driver is also waiting outside should you wish to be escorted anywhere today. Including the suite.”
“My. . .driver?”
“Yes.” His face didn’t crack even a little. “He’ll remain seated in the car, but the moment you step outside, he’ll pull up and open the door.”
All of this. . . just because I sent him a picture of my wet panties?
The man glanced at his sleek black watch. “I must hurry now.”
“Okay.”
He bowed again, then turned and disappeared down the hallway with the Decadent bag in hand—my panties packed neatly inside, Paris-bound on a mission of madness and desire.
Oh. My. God.
Chapter six
The After Shock
Nyomi
Kenji’s chef is coming to make us breakfast. Wow.
I shut the door slowly and leaned back against it.
Is this really my life?
There was a time when I lived off vending machine dinners and cold apartment floors. Now a man was offering me silk sheets and caviar mornings.
I spoke into the empty living room. “I think I might actually be a fucking queen.”
Zo was still humming in the bathroom—something by Donny Hathaway now, I was sure of it. The man wasn’t showering, he was giving a damn performance.
The pipes rattled softly.
I wanted to jump in after him and scream, “You are never going to believe what just happened,” but I held my excitement in. I already knew what Zo would do anyway. Zo would scream when I told him, and then we would chat about it all morning with a bottle of wine like two church ladies in sin.
I padded across the room and dropped back onto the futon.
Heat still lingered between my thighs, but now it mixed with giddiness.
Once Zo finished, I would need to shower too and put on some clothes.
I set the hotel card next to me.
I can’t believe he got me that suite. Did that guy say that it was reserved. . .indefinitely? Damn. Should I go?
I stared at the card.
Imperial Lotus Suite–58th Floor.
My name wasn’t even on it, but somehow it felt like it was engraved all over the damned thing.
I ran my fingers across the gold foil.
When a man gave you a suite—indefinitely—when he had a driver posted outside just in case you wanted to be swept off somewhere?
When he sent a chef before you’d even had time to brush your teeth?
It could mean devotion.
Or it could mean control.
And I knew better than to confuse the two.
My stomach twisted with a mix of heat and warning.
My father used to control my mother with lavish trips and gifts. A new watch after an argument. A Paris trip after a cruel silence. Diamonds in velvet boxes when she'd caught him cheating the first time.
He’d smother her with luxury until she couldn’t tell the difference between being adored and being owned. I watched her shrink for years—draped in silk and blinking through martini lunches, smiling like her teeth were glass. By night, she would laugh at parties with champagne on her lips and grief in her eyes. I learned early; diamonds didn’t dull the sound of a woman disappearing.
I spent years promising myself I’d never trade safety for sparkle. Granted, even the strongest woman wanted to be spoiled.
I would never let a man dress my cage in gold.
Even if that man had a cock like poetry.
Even if he made my body bloom.
Even if his darkness made mine feel seen.
Kenji was dangerous. I’d known that from the moment he looked at me like he was already planning which part of me to ruin first.