by Amara Kent
Chapter Fourteen
Kerri
I watch Ren as he leans smugly against his rather expensive car. I don’t know what make it is. I’ve never been a car person. My dad was a massive rev head, I was not at the very least interested in all that shit. I couldn’t tell you the difference between a Porsche and a Toyota. I wanted to play with Barbies and pretend I was a mermaid in pools when I was little. When I was preteen, I found martial arts and became a massive tomboy. But as I got older, I grew to love the mechanics of computers, and that’s where a lot of my focus was.
As you already know, I caved and ended up calling him. It wasn’t what I wanted to do, but it was a decision forced onto me by Sara who had marched into my room, snatched my phone from me, and dialed his number. Yeah, just as surprised as you are. I walk toward him with a not so impressed look. He holds the door open for me.
“Don’t think too much into this,” I say, pointing a finger at him.
He feigns shock. “I would never.”
“I know you. Me inviting you with me today is purely to assist me in this meeting. There will be no repeat of the other night afterward.”
“I get it, Kerri.” He laughs softly, closing the door and moving around to the driver’s side, getting in.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I ask.
“Aikon Broadcasting Service. I know where it is.”
I nod, observing the bustling pedestrians as he pulls away from the curb and moves through the busy streets of Tokyo. He’s a professional behind the wheel and the way he navigates is awe-inspiring. When he shifts, it’s smooth and you can’t even tell he’s done it. “That’s the way it should be.” I hear my father’s voice in my head. A smile cracks through, and I think back to the moment he taught me how to drive. It was excruciating, and he was insufferable. Despite all that, he taught me everything I know now about cars. It isn’t extensive, but I know how to smoothly handle a stick, change a tire, fill up my wipers. All the simple necessities a woman needs to know.
It doesn’t take long for us to get to the station. I’m surprised to see him swiping a card and going down into the underground car park. He parks in a spot specifically assigned for him. His name engraved on a plaque. Mouth hanging open, I turn to face him.
“You have a spot here?”
“You’re rather observant, aren’t you?” he asks cheekily.
“I mean… how?”
“I believe they hire someone to make the plaque, which then gets delivered to the company. Someone from maintenance collects it—”
“I’m not in the mood for your sarcastic shit, Ren.” I groan, dropping my head onto my hand.
He laughs. “I do a lot of specialized work for this company. I’m here so often, they gave me my own spot.”
“Wow.”
“You don’t need to worry about them, Kerri, they are a very good company, I don’t have a lot of patience for assholes in the industry. I’ll work with them, because I’m a businessman, and I’m more than happy to get money off the pricks in this world, but I would never subject anyone I liked to them.”
“We have different outlooks on assholes,” I mumble.
“What is more satisfying than knowing that you are using someone who deserves it?”
“Doesn’t that eat away at your conscience?” I ask. The disapproval is clear in my tone.
“You don’t approve?”
“No, I don’t.”
“We aren’t too far from each other.”
“How so?”
“You once punished those who you and Taylor deemed worthy of your wrath on behalf of the scorned women of New York. It wasn’t until Dean Lukas came around and changed Taylor, that you both ended up bringing people together, instead of enacting your own personal vengeance. You took it upon yourself to do something karma would have done anyway, and you’re telling me that working with assholes is not a conceivable notion for you. I get what I want out of some of the ones I work with because, to me, it’s better than telling them to go fuck themselves. How are we so different?” he asks me.
I blink stupidly at him. Sitting there in silence as I allow his words to sink in. He’s right, which is beside the point right now. How does he know all of this?
“How?” I ask.
“ABS advised me,” he interjects. “I was here when you agreed to the meeting and they asked me how I knew the Kerri Bradford. I said I didn’t know you that well, but enough to be asked to attend the meeting with you. Curious, I looked you up on the Internet when I got home. You’re an interesting person. It answered so many questions I had about you, and spurred others. It also explains your personality and no-returns policy.”
I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. He knows way too much about me, and I know very little of him. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to know more, but it’s uncomfortable knowing he has the upper hand in whatever this thing is between us. It’s not the way it’s supposed to be. What we know is supposed to be practically nothing. It keeps things simple and uncomplicated. Knowledge is power, and right now, Ren Hattori holds too much of it.
“We should get to this meeting,” I grumble, getting out of the car.
Anxiety builds up inside of me, and I close my eyes, taking a few deep breaths to control myself so he can’t see me like this. I know to everyone else this doesn’t seem like a big deal. So what if he knows a lot about me. Most of America knows who Taylor and I are, and what we do. And soon, if this meeting goes well, so will Japan. The fans of our show don’t know who I am outside of the business. I don’t allow them to know me that intimately. The men I bed don’t have enough of an interest, so I’m always safe. But Ren. He’s on a completely different level. He wants to know me, and that’s not something that can happen. It’ll mess with my head, and I can’t be so muddled. I can’t fall into the same routine.
“Are you okay?” he asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. Stop it!
“Yeah. Why?” I ask, forcing my usual neutralism on my face.
He squints his eyes. He looks like he wants to ask me something, but thinks better of it and shrugs. “Just wondering. Going into a business meeting is one thing, but going into a business meeting in another country is a whole different ballgame.”
“I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”
Silently, we make our way to the elevator, and then up to the fourth floor, where the executive offices are located. When we step out, we’re greeted by a woman who bows.
“You must be Miss Bradford,” she says with a smile.
“Yes, I am.”
“Mr. Hattori, it’s good to see you again.” I don’t miss the appreciative smile she furtively gives him, and the lingering look on her slim form from him, as if remembering a time they once shared. I also don’t miss how that seems to tug at my nerves a little. I have no reason to feel a tiny pang of jealousy. We’re not together, but for some reason I do. My forehead wrinkles into a slight frown before she clears her throat.
“This way, please. Mr. Tanaka and Mr. Sato are expecting you in Mr. Tanaka’s office.” She leads the way, walking past a large glass meeting room that sits in the middle. A bunch of offices and professionally dressed women surround the area and they smile as they pass us. When she reaches the end office, she turns the handle on the door and holds it open for us as we step inside. Two men stand up, wearing bright smiles, making their way over to us.
“Thank you, Miss Nakamura,” one of the men says to the woman who brought us here. She nods her thanks and closes the door behind us. “Miss Bradford, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Mr. Tanaka, and this is Mr. Sato, the Director of Programming. He will be responsible for ensuring that your show goes to air here in Japan, once contracts are signed.”
“It’s very nice to meet you too, Mr. Tanaka, Mr. Sato. Taylor and I are very excited to bring our concept here to Japan.”
“Shall we sit down?” He motions to his desk. We take our spots. The seats are like clouds, and I feel as if I could sink into them. �
��Would either of you like a drink?”
“I’ll take an—” Ren says graciously.
“Americano,” Mr. Tanaka and Sato interject in unison. They all chuckle at the inside joke surrounding his coffee selection. I produce a polite smile, waiting for them to explain, but they never do.
“And you?” Mr. Tanaka asks.
“I would love a caramel latte if I can.”
“Yes, of course.”
He presses a button on his phone and relays the order to Miss Nakamura. There’s a brief moment of pause. They look at me as if assessing me.
“Miss Bradford, we have spoken to your agent, Mrs. Devareaux. She has advised us you wish to bring your show to Japan. We have watched your show and think it would be something that the people of Japan would love to watch and take part in. This is a casual meeting to assess the kind of people we will be working with.” I nod. “We understand that Miss Dunlop will be getting married to Mr. Lukas soon. We are most excited about her future marriage and happiness. We are happy to commence the production of the show on her return. In the meantime, I wish to get some things sorted. Does that work for you?”
“Yes, it does. We will get as many of the pre-production elements organized before Taylor gets married. We haven’t yet discussed a proposed date of commencement as she would need to discuss this with Dean. When she does, however, our agent will notify you,” I explain.
“It will be very nice working with you and the future Mrs. Lukas, Miss Bradford,” Mr. Tanaka says, clasping my hands in his and bowing.
“I’m very much looking forward to it as well. Thank you for this extraordinary opportunity,” I respond graciously.
He says something in Japanese to Ren. A smile spreads on his lips, creating warmth in his eyes. He gives a quick nod and all three men bow at each other. When we exit the room and I’m sure that we are out of earshot, I ask him.
“What did Mr. Tanaka say in there?”
“Nothing of importance,” he responds.
“I asked you to come with me for this specific reason,” I argue.
“Don’t you think if he were to say something bad about you, it would have been during the meeting? Besides, no self-respecting person would ever bitch about someone when their friend who speaks the same language is in the room.”
“So why won’t you tell me what they said?”
He sighs. “He said that you’re a good woman and that I shouldn’t let you get away.”
I stop in my tracks as the doors to the elevator open, and he steps in. Holding the door open for me, he snaps his fingers at me to grab my attention. I shake my head quickly and step in after him.
He chuckles next to me, placing a hand on my lower back, forcing those traitorous butterflies to spread their wings, flapping them in unison as the memory of those very hands caressing my naked body comes to the surface.
“You need not worry. I’m not stupid enough to take stock of his words. Neither of us is in a position to entertain ourselves with the notion of romance,” he says softly, in a low husky voice, in my ear.
His hand slides down to my ass, giving it a quick squeeze. A yelp inadvertently escapes my mouth at the action. Oh, for fuck’s sake. My mind is screaming at him to step away, but my body is urging him on with its implicit messages. Beckoning him to take what we both want. And because the asshole is so in tune with my body, playing a melody that seems to be ingrained into his memory, he slides that hand down past my ass and slips in between my thighs.
“Stop,” I breathe out. This can’t happen anymore. There is no casual us. There is no casual between us. If I hadn’t needed someone with me today and Sara didn’t have to work, he wouldn’t even be here.
He smashes the emergency stop button on the lift and pushes me against the back of it. His cock pressing up against my belly. He’s hard, which is no surprise. I’m sure he walks around with a permanent boner.
“Are you always this hard? You know, I’m sure that’s classified as a medical problem. You should get that checked,” I say facetiously, with a breathy chuckle, loving the way his erection feels.
Damn you, body. How dare you betray me like this? I treat you well. Give you coffee whenever you beg for it, you damn addict. Why you be doing me like this?
This seems so typically romantic comedy-ish, doesn’t it? Here we are; two people who have the insane sex drive of a sixteen-year-old teenage boy. I am a strong woman—with tendencies of being weak—who has a rule in place to never go back to the same guy twice, but here I am, enjoying the way his body feels against mine. The way his lips feel on the lobe of my ear and his breath which is becoming ragged and needy for sex. His rock-hard cock that is now grinding slowly into me. I’m wet, there’s no denying that, and right now I couldn’t give a flying fuck if he can feel it or not. How has—and can—this strong woman throw away her inclinations for this guy? What’s so special about him? Why him? If you can figure that one out for me, I’d greatly appreciate it.
“Only around you,” he finally says, as if waiting for my inner monologue to finish. He’s dangerous, there’s no doubt about it. He’s too smart. Too intuitive. He knows what I like and how to make my body cry out for him. Men who hold such power will eventually manipulate it until it’s broken and a shattered mess on the floor. The power they wield is beyond any kind of manmade weapon you can find. They know how to make you theirs. They know how to break down the will and strength of even the strongest person. How? All they need is to be able to see vulnerability within you. That’s all they need to beat you until there’s nothing left of the former person you used to be. How do I know? That’s way too much of a depressing road to travel down. Flashes of a past hoped to be forgotten spark off in my head and I push Ren away from me.
He looks at me with a slight frown, as if I wanted this. You did.
“I told you that we wouldn’t do this again, so quit trying to make it happen.”
I move around him and press the emergency button again. The elevator rocks to life and we make the awkwardly silent descent down to the parking garage. Getting into the car, we remain in awkward silence as we make our way to Sara’s house.
“Thank you for coming with me. I appreciate it,” I mumble, avoiding looking at him, as he pulls up to the curb. I don’t want to see what’s written on his face.
“You’re welcome,” he responds quietly.
I unclip my seatbelt and get out of the car, attempting to push down the thoughts which have grown a little stronger. If I don’t get a handle on this, it’ll blow out of control, and I don’t have the option of losing my sanity. Especially not in front of Sara. Nobody knows what happened to me all those years ago, and I intend on keeping it that way. All it serves is this intrinsic need to be saved.
And I already did that by myself.
Chapter Fifteen
Ren
I walk around to the other side of the limousine. Bright lights go off around me as I open the door for Aiya. We’re both at the annual charity event for disadvantaged children. We don’t make it a habit to attend these kinds of opulent events, but when it’s a charity we both love and are passionate about, we do. She smiles, taking my hand, waving at the media who have now gathered wildly around us. They’re all here for her, not me. Don’t get me wrong, there is no jealousy or envy in me. I am not a man of the limelight. I detest it, but I grin and bear it. We give each photographer what they want and make our way up the red-carpeted steps that lead into the hall, stopping on the way sporadically to take even more photos. We wrap our hands around each other and give them what they want, before entering the venue.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I say when we’re safely in the main room of the building.
“I don’t get how you’re not used to it by now.”
“I don’t do my job for the fame, Aiya,” I retort with a slight frown creasing my forehead.
“Neither do I, but it comes with the territory. Without all this,” she waves her hand in the air. “There would be none of us
. You may not want the adoration your position comes with, but it is what it is. Just be thankful that being a tech guru allows you more privacy than mine does.”
“You always have to one-up me, don’t you?” I nudge lightly.
“Well, quit being an idiot, and I wouldn’t have to constantly put you in your place, Ren.”
“Come on. We should find our table and put our stuff down before we go mingling and schmoozing up to all these people.”
“Why do you even come to these things if you hate them?” she rolls her eyes.
“Because I’m a wonderful person and believe kids are the way of the future.”
“Wow, way to go turning an amazingly charitable event all about you,” she teases.
“You know how it is. If I can’t bring it back to how great of a person I am, then I feel empty inside.”
Aiya throws her head back and laughs. “And this is why I keep you around. For the laughs, Ren. Always for the laughs.”
“What? It’s not for my smoking hot body?” I ask in mock offense.
“I’m not falling for that trap, mister.” She walks off and I follow.
We find our table and Aiya places her handbag down. A waiter walks up to us and offers us a glass of champagne. We clink glasses before taking a stroll around the massive hall.
“So how’s the woman you’ve been pressuring into having sex with you?” she asks nonchalantly.
“Why don’t you say it a little louder so everyone can hear how much of an animal I am?” I grumble.
“I think most of the people here know how much of an animal you are. It’s crazy how hard the women are trying to act as if they aren’t staring at you with sex in their eyes.” She looks around her.
It’s true. What can I say, I’m a man with a healthy need. It’s no secret that I have bedded a lot of the women who have come to these charity events, and it’s even a bigger non-secret that most of these women continue to vie for my attention. Every single one of them wants to get me in bed again. They want to be the ones I’ll leave with.