His Until Dawn (Kissing the Boss Book 3)

by Fionn Jameson

  The old man sucked in a breath and shook his head mournfully. "I'm sorry, Nobuki, but the accusations leveled against you and Ms. Hasegawa are quite severe. We must determine how to progress from here."

  Nobuki turned away, but I wondered how many people saw his jaw clenching.

  Even though we were a few feet away from each other, the distance between us felt larger, as though we were a million miles away.

  "As it is, I'm afraid this office is closed until further notice," said Mr. Hamazaki. "And the both of you placed on administrative leave."

  I don't remember how I got home. When I staggered up the five flights of stairs to my apartment, and let myself in, something white and crumbled into a tiny ball fell out of my pocket.

  Upon unfolding it, I found it was a taxi receipt and shoved it into my pocket before peeling off my shoes. I stumbled into the entryway, almost tripping over the small lip in the living room doorway.

  I glanced at the clock over the fridge, and realized that it was eight-thirty.

  Good God.

  Eight-thirty on a Thursday morning.

  What was I supposed to do?

  What could I do?

  Praying my parents didn't know I had come home so soon, I looked around the small apartment, watching the dust motes sparkle in the early morning light streaming in through the kitchen windows.

  I made a beeline to bed, shedding articles of clothing as I went. By the time I fell face first into the sheets, I was wearing my under garments. Even those I shed, squirming under the sheets as I kicked my bra and panties off at the foot of the bed.

  But then I realized what a strange feeling it was, lying naked under my cotton sheets and I crawled out of bed, throwing on a pair of summer pajamas before I crawled back in, the sheets shoved under my chin, face planted against the cool wall.

  No matter how hard I tried, fully aware that sleep was the only escape I had, I couldn't stop the morning from playing through my head.

  The look on the faces of the people in the elevator.

  The disappointment so clear on Chairman Hamazaki's face.

  The almost pious sneer on Mrs. Nakashima's face as she pointed a finger at me, like I was the cursed main character in The Scarlet Letter.

  It was almost too much to bear and a soft sob left my lips.

  I crammed a fist against my mouth and turned my face into the pillows, blocking out the sunlight, the sounds of the world that had no idea that mine had just ended.

  The last thing I remembered before I fell into a chasm of sleep was the look on Nobuki's face as he saw me in the doorway.

  A look of utter boredom and disregard.

  Like I meant nothing to him.

  And then the last thing on that contract written up a few weeks ago.

  Should emotions come into play, this arrangement will be hereby immediately terminated.

  The next thing I knew, there was a pounding on the front door, making the knob rattle, my phone vibrated somewhere in the living room, and I had a spectacular migraine making my head feel like it was a gong continuously going off.

  I stumbled out of bed and wobbled to the front door, concentrating to keep one foot ahead of the other without getting my feet all tangled up and wrenched open the door, eyes squinted against the sudden influx of late afternoon sunlight.

  "Oh, God," I whispered in a rasp, reeling back. "Not you."

  Saki gave me a feral grin, all pointy canines, or maybe it was just my overactive imagination. "Yes, me. Is that any way to greet your older sister who came all the way from Fukuoka to see you?"

  I tripped over that damned lip in the entryway and fell hard on my butt, jarring the breath out of me. Pain flashed through my tailbone and for a second, I thought I might've broken it. That would've been perfect.

  Saki stared at me and then blew out a heavy breath, shaking her head. "Good God, you reek of desperation and patheticness."

  "Patheticness isn't even a word," I gasped out, one arm pressed against my chest as I tried to draw in enough breath.

  She threw a lock of her long, chocolate-brown hair over her shoulder and bullied in past me, as usual talking a mile a minute. "What're you doing home so soon? Did you get fired? Mom said you came home in the morning, before nine. Did you get to work and just come straight back home? Did you get fired? You got fired for reading on the job, didn't you? Do you have any tea or water or anything?"

  "Refrigerator." I croaked, as I tried to process her onslaught of words. "Water."

  I crawled on my hands and knees to the tea table and blinked blearily at a bottle of water Saki set out for me, while she chugged half of hers.

  She sat down across from me, taking slower sips, and shot me a cautious look. "Need help with that?"

  "I've got it."

  "Don't think you do, but whatever." She burped discreetly and tossed her now-empty bottle of water into the trash. "Seriously, though, why are you home so early? Are you sick? You look sick. God, if you get me sick, you're paying for my hospital visit and medication."

  This was too much to take, and I screwed fingers into my ears, waiting for her to slow down.

  It took a while for her to shut up, but when she finally did, I pulled my fingers out of my ears.

  "Brat," she mumbled. "All you had to do was tell me to slow down."

  "Like you would've listened," I muttered. "You never listen."

  She went silent and then quirked a brow.

  "What?"

  "Want to talk about it?" she asked. "You haven't coughed since I got here, and you don't look like you have a fever."

  "I'm not sick."

  "Then?" Her brows furrowed. "Don't tell me you got fired. Or did you quit?"

  "Quitting would've been easier," I muttered.

  She observed me as I unscrewed the water bottle and drank from it slowly. I could tell my sister was dying from curiosity, but somehow, she kept her mouth shut as I screwed the bottle shut again.

  "I didn't get fired," I said. "Not yet."

  "Not yet?"

  "I'm on administrative leave," I replied.

  "Administrative leave?"

  "Am I in some kind of echo chamber?" I said, a little more sharper than I intended. "I'm on administrative leave. So I'm not fired yet."

  "I see…" Her voice was surprisingly quiet. "Why are you on administrative leave? What'd you do?"

  I couldn't stop the grimace from crossing my face. If I told Saki, it was sure to get down to my mother. And if my mother found out what was going on…God, now I almost wished I'd been fired.

  Saki opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  For a couple of seconds, anyways. "Would you rather not talk about it?"

  Her circumspectness was almost delightful. "I'm not sure."

  It would feel great to talk this over with someone, but who? Suddenly, I felt totally friendless, and it made me feel empty, cold on the inside.

  How was Nobuki taking this? What was he doing? Did he leave me a message? I didn't even know where my phone was—probably in my bag lying haphazardly on its side, next to my shoes in the entryway.

  Without another word, I checked my phone and scrolled through the myriad of messages. I don't think I've ever received this many messages in my entire time, much less in the past few hours. It seemed like everyone from work had texted me, asking what was really going on, because most of them couldn't believe that the tall, quiet Rika could ever be involved with the office hottie.

  None of them were from Nobuki.

  I did get one from Ayaka, though.

  Call me.

  Saki watched me warily from across the tea table, arms crossed over her chest, as though she was lecturing me like I was some recalcitrant child.

  "What?" I glared at her. "Don't look at me like that."

  "You're sulking." A sneer sat on her lips. "I recognize the symptoms. Instead of doing something, you're going to sit in the corner and sulk. I've always hated that part of you. You don't bother to change your situation. You sit
in the corner, stick out your lower lip, and don't talk to anyone for days. For God's sake, you're an adult now. Act like one."

  Her words hit me like a slap across the face, and I stared down at the table, ashamed to meet her piercing gaze.

  She sighed. "I admit, encouraging words don't come easy to me. I know I have too much to say and I know I'm impatient. Trust me, I've lost a lot of friends over the years because of my personality. But I'm your older sister. Believe it or not, I want to help you."

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that helping me would be her leaving me in peace.

  But something stopped me.

  You just sit in the corner and sulk.

  I would have to be oblivious to deny that very true statement. I recognized that part of me and to be honest, I hated it.

  I met Saki's eyes. "Sometimes I envy you. You have the courage to say whatever you want, and you don't worry about the repercussions."

  A corner of her lips kicked up. "Sometimes I envy you. Because you stop and think about the words about to leave your mouth."

  "But you see something you want or need, and you go out and get it," I replied.

  She shrugged. "It could be good, but a lot of times, it also backfired on me too. I think I lost a lot of promotions that way. Everyone thinks I'm a power-hungry bitch."

  I winced at her too-blunt words. "I've never considered you a power-hungry bitch."

  Her smile widened, and she tapped my hand resting limply on the table. "That's why you're my sister." Her brows furrowed. "Rika, I know something bad happened. I can see it on your face, in your eyes. I want to help. Let me help." Her lips thinned. "I promise I won't tell Mom. Whatever is said in this room won't ever leave." She put a hand over her heart. "Promise."

  "Really?" I sounded like I was twelve again and raised my knees, propping my chin on them. I wrapped my arms around my legs and looked at her through my disheveled bangs. "You swear you won't tell Mom?"

  She nodded.

  I took a sip of water and started from the beginning. Aimi and my boss getting fired for having an affair in the office, the numerous times I had to cover for them, but not caring much because aside from taking messages during their illicit meetings, they didn't ask much from me. All I wanted was peace and quiet to read books, and I got that in scads.

  Saki nodded, not saying a word. She knew very well my love of reading.

  "And then…I got a new boss," I said, slanting a glance at her. "And everything went downhill from there."

  The corners of her eyes crinkled. "Did he ask you to do your job?"

  I rolled my eyes at her thinly-veiled sarcasm. "That wasn't really the issue, Saki."

  She rolled her eyes right back. "Right. Of course, it's not. Naturally, you wanted to work and not read. How silly of me."

  I forged ahead, ignoring her knowing grin. I told her how I had first thought of Nobuki as a handsome devil.

  With every word that left my lips, her eyes grew rounder and rounder.

  When I told her what had happened in Los Angeles, the last night we were there, the night Nobuki and I decided to get into a carnal relationship, she let out a gasp, covering her mouth with her hands.

  But somehow, much to my surprise, she remained quiet, as I told her about having to tiptoe past my parents' window on the first floor, then the time meeting Nobuki's ex. When I mentioned that Yue slapped me for taking her child out to dinner, she hissed.

  All in all, Saki was the perfect audience, something I found to be greatly disconcerting, since she had never been meant to be the audience, but the actor.

  "Now…here I am," I finished with a watery smile. "Not sure what happened to Nobuki, but I've been placed on leave, and everyone thinks the worst of us."

  Surprising me yet again, Saki took a while to reply, mulling over everything I said, her lips fixed in a tight line.

  I kept waiting for her to say something, anything. I think I waited a few minutes, just staring at her, waiting for some kind of reply.

  When she did speak, she said something I definitely didn't expect.

  "Do you love him?"

  I blinked at her, mouth falling open. Out of all the things she could have said, love was nowhere near the top of the list.

  "I—" I licked my lips. "I don't…I don't know."

  Her brows knitted, almost disapprovingly. "You don't know? How long have you been with this guy? How do you not know if you have feelings for him? Do you or do you not want him?"

  I fell back under the barrage of her questions. Ah, that was more like her. "Saki, wait, wait. I just told you. I don't know. I mean, what does love mean? What does it mean to love someone? How can I trust what my heart wants? What if it's all messed up? What if I'm messed up?" But then I remembered something.

  The day we broke the contract, the day Yue slapped me.

  The look in Nobuki's eyes.

  The feeling in my chest, heavy yet soft, when he kissed me. How his lips had lingered over mine, unbelievably soft and tender.

  Remembering that very feeling, my chest tightened and I put a hand over my heart, feeling it beat under my fingertips.

  "I don't know for sure," I said, and Saki sighed. "No, wait. Really. I don't want to be impetuous and say that I love him. But, I do know I want to see him again."

  Her brows went up. "The sex must be amazing."

  My face heated. Talking about sex with my sister was not my idea of a fun time. "That's not it. I mean, he's harsh and cold, but really, he's kind and thoughtful. I feel like there's still so much about him that I don't know. But I want to know. I don't want it to end like this." My hands fisted. "I don't want it to end like this."

  Saki watched me, her eyes calm. "But what if it does end like this? What if you get fired, and you decide to let it go?"

  I shook my head. "I don't care about me. I can get fired. But Nobuki? He can't. He's the best thing that happened to the company. He's so damn hard working. They can't fire him over this. Besides, I…" I choked on the words. "I'm at fault. I'm the one who suggested we start this kind of relationship in the first place. If anyone should get fired, it's me."

  She raised a brow. "What happens if he does get fired?"

  "I won't let it happen."

  A strange heat started to gather in me, and my headache started to disappear. My vision cleared, and I knew what I had to do.

  "So you're going to fight?" asked Saki. "You're really going to fight for him?"

  I nodded, aware of the ramifications of my statement. "Yeah. I'm going to fight." I smiled. "I'm not going to just sit in the corner and sulk anymore. Like you said, I'm not a child anymore."

  Saki matched me, smile for smile. "That's my sister."

  It was the first time she ever smiled while acknowledging our relationship.

  The big question was, how was I going to fight?

  I went out that night with Saki to a nearby bar and had a surprisingly good time, considering what had transpired.

  Even though she peppered me with questions about my relationship with Nobuki, proclaiming at some point that she was going to go straight to his house to demand he treat me right, I pulled her back down on the stool where she wobbled precariously, too full of barbequed meat and sake to remember what she had said a few seconds ago.

  In the end, I had to carry her home. For the first time in our relationship, I was grateful I was almost a foot taller than my sister, because it made carrying her on my back that much easier.

  The kitchen light was still on even though it was past midnight. Before I could situate myself and two handbags as well as a sleeping, drooling older sister to knock on the door, it opened, my mother's worried face pale in the weak moonlight.

  "Oh, there she is," she said and let me in, making worried sounds behind me as I staggered into the house that smelled like lemon antibacterial spray. It was a familiar scent, and I took several deep whiffs as I let Saki down gently in our old room, the room my sister and I shared before we went to college and left the
house for good.

  She murmured something and smacked her lips, sticking one leg out of the covers, something she'd done for as long as I could remember.

  "Night, sis." I drew the cover up to her shoulders and gazed down at her sleeping face. "Thanks."

  A corner of her mouth tweaked up, as though she heard me, and I crept out, sliding the door shut.

  My mom put a finger to her mouth. "Your father's asleep. I made your favorite stew for dinner tonight. Would you like some?"

  Eating after midnight was an excellent way to gain weight, but my metabolism had yet to fail me. Knock on wood.

  "Yes, please."

  I followed her into the kitchen, taking a seat at the round kitchen table. My fingers traced over the faint scars in the wood, pushing hard through the transparent vinyl covering to feel the grooves.

  She pulled a small pot out of the fridge and set it on the oven, making that typical click-click sound that, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out the reason or cause for.

  "Saki and I went out."

  "I can see that." She shot me a glance over her shoulder from her spot by the cutting board where her knife moved through a cucumber that would accompany my meal. "It's been a long time since you two went out together. I can't even remember. Maybe college?"

  "I doubt it," I said. "Saki didn't have time for me. She was a cosmopolitan, fashionable business major while I was a dowdy literature major. She couldn't be seen walking around with me. Besides, I look even more like a freak around her."

  My mother's shoulders stiffened. "I wish you wouldn't say that. No mother likes to hear that about her children."

  "Sorry, Mom," I muttered, pulling myself up the chair as my feet pushed along the linoleum floor. "I don't like being considered a freak, either."

  She shot me a smile over her shoulder, the knife still moving. Ladies and gentlemen, the Super Mom. "That's a relief to hear."

  I poured myself a glass of refreshing barley tea and watched my mother move around the room in practiced ease, her hand brushing over an occasional item, as though to reassure herself. The microwave. The dish-drainer. The top of the rice cooker.

  It was strangely relaxing to see her move about the kitchen, and soon the stew was bubbling on the oven, the rich scent of beef and potatoes cooked in a dashi broth with sake and mirin filling the small room.