A Gentleman in the Street

by Alisha Rai

  “Me too.” Jacob ran his hands through his hair, messing up the brown waves. “Jane, she kept in touch after she left. She would call on Kati’s birthday and Christmas—still does. But they weren’t close. Kati wouldn’t have thought to make her something and send it to her.

  “So I called her and told her it wasn’t fair to Kati, if I was her dad, that she not know. I told her I was going to have a DNA test. She wasn’t thrilled, but she didn’t put up much of a fuss.”

  Instinctively, Akira knew why Jacob hadn’t just broken the news without proof. The little girl who had been sobbing at Harvey Campbell’s funeral had loved their father. Jacob wouldn’t have wanted to mess with her memories based on a hunch and bad timing.

  Jacob’s voice was shaking as he spoke. “I got one of those kits off the Internet. Swabbed her mouth. Told her it was a little game.”

  She knew the answer already, but she spoke it out loud. “You weren’t her dad.”

  His lips turned white at the corners. “No. I wasn’t. I’m not.”

  She stroked her hand up his back, knowing exactly how he had felt. Some men might have been thrilled to be told they weren’t a baby’s father. Not Jacob. “You were devastated.”

  He looked at her, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. “It was like someone took her away from me. In the back of my head, I assumed, you know? And then that was gone. I was just a sibling. A half-sibling. She wasn’t mine.”

  Akira didn’t often find herself in the role of comforting anyone. So it felt a bit awkward for her to tug him down until she reclined on her pillow, his head lying on her chest. Her fingers tangled in the cool silk of his hair. “She’s still yours.”

  He gave a shuddery breath and pressed a kiss against her nipple. Not in a sexual manner, but she couldn’t resist the tingle that ran through her.

  “Who knows about this?” she asked.

  “Jane. Me. Now you.”

  “Why would you tell me?”

  “Because I wanted to. Because you made yourself vulnerable to me.”

  She shifted. “This isn’t on the same level as my telling you about my name.”

  “That’s not the only time you’ve made yourself vulnerable,” he replied quietly.

  Intuitively, she knew he wasn’t just talking about these past few weeks, but the fact he’d always been a weakness in her otherwise impenetrable armor.

  That he was so obviously aware of this dynamic made her want to crawl out of her skin.

  “Maybe also because I wanted you to understand better why I was the way I was,” he continued, his words raw. “Why I’ve been so careful, all my adult life. I couldn’t be like him. Selfish. Hedonistic. Impulsive. Do you see?”

  She didn’t respond, but she ran her fingernails up his back, soothing him as best she knew how. By his shuddery sigh, she could tell he liked that, so she did it again.

  She did see. She understood why he was a little fucked up and broken inside. She saw why he had walled himself away from her, from anyone who jeopardized his responsibility to his family. She understood why he had hated himself for being so attracted to her.

  She saw all of those things, including the sure knowledge she was in big, big trouble. Because she wanted this man, in her bed and in her life. And she couldn’t have that, couldn’t risk hurting him as much as his asshole of a father had.

  Selfish…check.

  Hedonistic…check.

  Impulsive….check, check, check.

  How was she any different than Harvey Campbell?

  His lips closed around her nipple, and she shut her eyes, biting her lip. A few hours. She would be selfish for just a few more hours.

  And then she would end this.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jacob woke up to the sound of clothes rustling. His body was spent—he was fairly certain his cock wouldn’t be able to rise for another forty-eight hours, given the exertions of the previous night—but he nonetheless turned toward the noise with a welcoming smile, his eyes blinking open.

  Only to scramble upright, clutching the blanket over his lap like a scandalized virgin. “Jesus.”

  Harris turned from where he was draping something onto the subtly patterned burgundy armchair in the corner of the room and peered at him. “Mr. Campbell. Good morning.”

  “Morning.” Jacob cleared his throat. “Uh. Can I help you?”

  “No, sir, I am here to help you.” Harris nodded at the neatly folded garments on the chair. “Your clothes, pressed. Breakfast is waiting for you downstairs. Your car will be brought to the front when you are ready to leave.”

  As subservient as Harris’s words were, there was a hard purpose in his eyes that told Jacob he wouldn’t hesitate to help him along if Jacob dallied.

  “Where’s Akira?”

  Harris linked his hands in front of him. Was he wearing gloves? Yes. Those were definitely gloves. What casting department had sent this man over, anyway? “Ms. Akira had to leave.”

  Jacob frowned. It was Sunday. Though Akira might happily go into the office on the weekends, workaholic that she was, he didn’t think she would do it when they were lying in bed together. “Was there an emergency?”

  “No. She had to leave on a business trip. She told me to convey her gratitude for the evening and ensure you had all you needed before you left.”

  Jacob stared at him, a fission of temper igniting in his chest. “A business trip.” One she hadn’t told him about last night or before she left.

  Yeah. Right.

  He was getting the bum’s rush, and she didn’t even have the balls to do it to his face.

  Harris inclined his head ever so slightly. “Yes, sir.”

  Had last night meant nothing? Didn’t she get that he had bared his soul to her? Hell, he had never told anyone the stuff he had said to her. About Kati, and her mother, and his father. They were things his brothers didn’t even know.

  It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t think you’re in her league.

  Was that it? Did it really come down to sex? Maybe last night hadn’t been up to her standards…

  He squashed the demon of insecurity the second it hatched. He had felt her coming around him, had ridden her to exhaustion. The hell he hadn’t made it great for her.

  He thought of the way she had curled away from him after talking about her name, the naked vulnerability in her eyes when he had kissed her cheek and her forehead afterward. No, this wasn’t about him. This was about her. And normally he’d be sympathetic and understanding, but damn it, she hadn’t even stuck around to hash this out properly. That rankled. A lot.

  He wanted to growl, but the man watching him impassively had nothing to do with him and Akira. Harris was merely doing his job. So Jacob nodded and choked out between gritted teeth, “I don’t need breakfast. Give me ten to dress and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Harris hesitated, and in that moment, Jacob caught something terrible on his face: Pity.

  “Ten minutes,” Harris repeated.

  Nostrils flaring, Jacob launched out of bed as soon as the other man departed, and threw his clothes on, his anger insulating him from his true, more depressing emotions. He was about to turn and leave when he caught sight of the box on Akira’s nightstand.

  His jaw set. She carried the thing with her from work to her home and back again each day, like a toddler with a security blanket. There wasn’t a chance in hell she wouldn’t take it with her on a business trip, even if it was a last-minute deal.

  Trip, my bitable ass.

  Jacob glanced at his watch. He still had six of his ten minutes left. Plenty of time.

  Five minutes later, he set the box on the nightstand, its lid removed and pushed to the side. He didn’t glance inside. That wasn’t his business. He did, however, find a notepad and a pen in her nightstand next to a box of condoms that was nearly empty, thanks to him.

  A minute later, he left the room, not looking back.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Akira was miserable.

/>   She wasn’t accustomed to being miserable, so it was particularly worrisome. Friends didn’t help. Work was a chore. She could throw another house party, but the thought made her feel nauseous. It would only remind her of Jacob.

  Too many things did. In the past month, she’d been certain she could get over him, but then she’d see someone with messy hair or hear a particular intonation in a stranger’s voice or look into a pair of green eyes, and she fell in the vortex of her memories.

  She touched her purse, as if to reassure herself that the note Jacob had left her the morning after she had hid from him like a coward was still there, nestled in a place of honor next to the precious contents of her grandmother’s puzzle box.

  You might be able to forget about him quicker if you didn’t haul his damn letter around.

  How could she not, though? She had read it so many times, the paper was becoming dangerously fragile. She could recite it from memory.

  I figured out how to unlock this the last time we were in your office. Sorry, I just didn’t want my time with you to end. I suppose you’ve decided differently.

  I won’t chase you again. But if you decide to take a risk and come to me, I won’t turn you away.

  I like you. If you let me, I could love you. All of you.

  She jerked her hand from her purse as the elevator doors opened. She climbed inside with a throng of other people and pressed to the back. Since that morning, when she had sat silently curled up on the bed in a guestroom until Harris told her Jacob had left, she no longer had any desire to be the center of attention. Let someone else be the party girl, the star. Let someone else shut the club down. Let her be lost in a sea of people.

  Manhattan was a good place to let that happen. She was here to meet with the Anderson Group for what would hopefully be the final time. The due diligence was completed, the sales and purchase agreement vetted. All the CEO had to do was accept her final bid, damn it, and sign on the line.

  She could have sent her attorneys. The man had taken a strong dislike to her, so he might respond better to someone else wooing him. However, she’d never hidden behind a bunch of old white men before, and she was hardly going to start now.

  Even if she was miserable. The corners of her mouth turned down.

  The elevator doors opened, and the other passengers milled about her, disembarking. Preoccupied, she was about to step out, when a booming voice filled her ears. “Hello, Akira.”

  She froze. She would know that upper-crust English accent anywhere. No, no, no. Not now. Not ever, but especially not now. Bracing herself, she lifted her head and looked up into her father’s face. “You.”

  “Me.”

  In a move that had become instinctive, she glanced around for cameras. No one else was in the elevator. Probably for the first time since she had seen him after his damn show had started, he was alone.

  He accurately interpreted her look. “No, no cameras today.” He leaned in, prompting her to take a step back. He was always doing that, forcing himself into places where he wasn’t welcome.

  Guilt flashed through her. Like she had always done to Jacob, barging in to his space?

  No. He had stormed her castle that last time. She’d told him to stay away. Then she’d let him ride her to blissful exhaustion, but she’d warned him, hadn’t she?

  Hiro hit the ground-floor button.

  Her hand tightened around her purse. Ignore him. “Excuse me, I have an appointment.”

  “You’ll find it’s been canceled.”

  She halted and turned on her heel, barely noticing when the door closed behind her. “What?”

  “It’s been canceled.” Her father gave her a thin smile. Hiro was a handsome man, she supposed, tall and slender and elegant. Everyone, particularly Mei, claimed Akira resembled him.

  Only in looks, she assured herself. The thought of favoring him in anything else sent a chill down her spine.

  “Who canceled it?” Though she knew she was off her game, she slipped into the persona that dealt with her father the best. Rich bitch.

  “Anderson decided it was unnecessary. He and I have come to a gentlemen’s agreement regarding the sale of his European division.”

  The blood rushed in Akira’s ears. The business she had spent months vetting and studying and courting had been purchased out from under her? By her own father? Rage guiding her actions, she slammed her fist on the emergency-stop button. The car came to a swift, jerking halt.

  “You’re bluffing,” she said, attempting to modulate her voice. Don’t let him see what this is doing to you. “Anderson wouldn’t do that. That’s bad faith.”

  Hiro shrugged. “This CEO has a surprisingly rigid moral code for someone who owns bars.” The man said the word bars like he might crack dens, showcasing the strange morality that made his show and family acceptable but her legitimate business an embarrassment.

  “What does that have to do with me?” Akira demanded.

  “He doesn’t like you. Thinks you’re too wild.”

  Akira’s nostrils flared. “You released a sex tape.”

  Her father lifted a shoulder. “Yes. We discussed that. A regrettable mistake, on my part, but it was a private moment with my future wife never meant for public consumption.”

  Fucker. She wondered how the bastard managed to bleat any of that with a straight face. Her breaths were coming faster than she’d like, but there was little she could do about that. “How did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “That I was going after Anderson? It was kept under wraps.”

  He clucked his tongue, rocking back on his heels, clearly enjoying this moment. “You really shouldn’t talk business in front of your driver, Akira.”

  A stab of sorrow hit her heart. Kevin? One of her own had betrayed her?

  She pushed her hurt aside to deal with the shark standing in front of her. “Why did you do this? You hated being a hotelier. You don’t know anything about this industry.”

  Her father cast a measuring glance at her hand. Carefully, she uncurled her fist and flexed her fingers. “You know why.”

  Of course she knew why. Ever so slightly, her shoulders slumped. “You want something from me.”

  “You could have answered my phone calls,” the man pointed out gently. “And we wouldn’t have to play this ridiculous game.”

  “This seems like a high price to pay to get me to guest star on your show.”

  Self-satisfaction oozed out of him. And why not? He had the upper hand. “Oh, no. Not guest star. We’re thinking semi-regular. I’ve even negotiated an opening credit for you.”

  He sounded like she should be happy. Was he delusional? She linked her hands together to stop their trembling. “Are ratings that bad?”

  “I prefer to be proactive. They’ve offered Brandy,” he said, referring to Chloe’s daughter, “her own spin-off. She’s a big part of the ratings grab. I can’t chance the new baby will be enough to pull viewers in.”

  Akira experienced a momentary pang of sympathy for her unborn half-sibling. She couldn’t say much for her childhood, but at least she hadn’t been a tool to score big with Nielsen. “But I will?”

  His lips twisted. “People find you fascinating. For whatever reason. You only need to come in a few times a season. You barely have to think. The producers manage most of the scenes.”

  So much for reality television. “Oh, is that all?”

  “This will benefit you as well. We can discuss compensation. Plus, there’s no price you can put on this kind of publicity.”

  “I assume,” she bit off, “you will also immediately back off this gentlemen’s agreement you have with Anderson.”

  “And recommend he close the deal with you.” Her father spread his hands. “We all win, Akira.”

  “This is an expensive risk you took,” she remarked. “If I tell you to go fuck yourself in the ass, you’re stuck with a hundred underperforming bars in Europe.”

  He looked unbothered by that thought.
“I have the money to burn, and it won’t be the first time I’ve jettisoned some establishments. Hell, maybe it could even be a nice inheritance for your little brother and sister.”

  For a second, she considered his offer. She could open her own places in every market where Anderson was doing business, but that would take her years, and she’d be competing with this chain for market share.

  This purchase would rocket her to the next level. Finally, the Mori name could mean something great again, not the punch line of a semi-scripted TV show. She would be able to stand for something.

  All she had to do was bend to her father’s will.

  The silence ticked around them, the air in the enclosed elevator quickly growing hot.

  A thin trickle of sweat ran down Akira’s back. Bend. What does it matter? Everything came with a condition. Love was a weakness, used to exploit, used as a carrot and a whip to force compliance. There wasn’t a single thing in life that came without strings.

  Her fingers closed on the supple leather of her purse. If you let me, I could love you.

  I won’t turn you away.

  There had been no strings in Jacob’s note. No strings on his friendship, or his body. He had simply opened himself up to her, leaving the choice of grabbing him in her hands.

  Can’t care about him, can’t let him see, because…

  Because why?

  Because someone will use him to manipulate you.

  Like Jacob’s rock-solid strength would ever permit anyone to use him as a pawn.

  Because he could use your feelings to manipulate you.

  Like his honor would ever let him dangle the promise of his love out of her reach while she grasped for it.

  She inhaled, her world coming into laser-sharp focus, every priority slotting into place. So she was going to lose the business she had hoped to purchase. There were more bars in the world, and if her father wanted to fight her on every damn one, so be it. She was on guard now.

  There was only one Jacob, and the only one stopping her from having him was herself.