“Holy Mother of God you are perfection, Raeva.”
If I wasn’t already lying down my legs would have given out, because both his words and actions are turning my legs into jelly; every limb in my body putty in his hands. Every nerve, every fiber of my being is screaming for his touch. That alone should also scare me but it doesn’t. Mika pulls away just enough so that he can hook his thumb and index finger around my chin and lifts my face toward his.
“You are beautiful, Raeva,” he says as he gently kisses the corner of my mouth. “I think watching you sleep is one of my new favorite things to do.”
What the hell is a girl supposed to say to something as perfect as that? I obviously can’t see myself but I feel my face burning. I bite my lip.
“I have taken the liberty to order us some breakfast,” he says as he pulls my bottom lip from between my teeth and rubs his thumb over it. “But I should tell you babe, if you are hungry you better quit looking at me like that.”
It’s like the man has a direct line to my lady parts because his words immediately generate heat in my core. Part of me wants to challenge him, find out exactly what he means by that statement, but I have to admit that I am pretty hungry. I’m sure I need some fuel to keep up with him so I decide to be a good girl…for now.
“I have a meeting in about forty-five minutes but after that my day is wide open. I have booked a massage for you and by the time I get back you should be done and ready to spend the day with me. We can do whatever you want, but I know where I would prefer to spend the day,” he says, as he winks at me.
Um, yes please!
The smell of bacon hits my nostrils. My mouth waters as I make an approving humming sound, eliciting a huge grin from Mika. I slip on the beautiful but tiny pink robe that he hands me. It is a stunning kimono style with gorgeous hand sewn flowers on it and feels heavenly against my naked skin; soft and silky.
“Come on, you little minx. Let’s eat,” he says as he holds his hand out to me.
I take his hand and let him lead me to the breakfast bar, which is generously filled with delicious-smelling food. I see bacon, eggs, fresh fruit salad, croissants, and toast. It’s quite a spread for just for two people.
“Hmmm, Mr. Kingsley, you sure know the way to a girl’s heart, don’t you?” I say as I take a piece of bacon and pop it into my mouth.
Mika leans in, his lips brushing my temple.
“Yours is the only one I’m interested in, Raeva,” he whispers.
Good God, even his voice is sexy, sending goosebumps down my spine.
“Damn skippy,” I smirk.
Mika’s brow shoots up.
“Damn skippy? Watch out world, Raeva Lindsey Rae is using quarter words,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“Seriously? Not only did you just middle name me and judge my vocabulary but, to top it off, you roll your eyes at me?” I look at him, mock offended.
Mika smiles wide as he piles a plate full of food, which he places in front of me. I burst out laughing.
“I’m not sure I can eat all of that.”
He gives me that look in his eye that sends shivers down my spine.
“Oh baby, I’ve seen you put away a helluva lot more than that…” he says suggestively.
I don’t think I could have stopped the smirk appearing on my face if I wanted to.
We eat and chat comfortably and it feels like we have been together for years. When it is time for Mika to head out to his meeting I feel a little out of sorts. He leans in and gently brushes his lips over mine, his gorgeous blue eyes intently staring into mine.
“I’ll be back soon.”
With that he turns and leaves. I watch him and his perfect, perky backside stride out of sight. Damn it, that man is affecting me in ways I have never imagined. I shake my head to snap myself out of it. I jump off the barstool and head to the enormous bathroom. I eye the colossal and inviting tub, but head to the shower instead. The multiple oversized showerheads are calling my name. I take a long shower but forgo washing my hair since I do not feel like messing with it right now. Instead of the tiny scrap of silk I slip on a big fluffy robe this time. It seems appropriate, since I am expecting the masseuse to show up soon. My first instinct is to call Jill but when I fish my phone out of my bag I see that the battery is dead. I pull the charger out of my bag and plug my phone in.
I look around and then decide to roam around and explore the gigantic suite. I step into the living area and see that there is a closed door at the far end of the hall. I make my way to the door, only hesitating for a moment before I reach for the doorknob to open it. I don’t know why, but I expect it to be locked and am caught by catches me by surprise when the door opens. I giggle, inwardly mocking myself. I step into the room and find a small office. A huge oak desk which, judging from the hand carved accents that grace the beautiful piece of furniture, looks to be antique and very expensive, sits inside the room. On top of the desk are three photo frames, a phone, and a laptop. I walk over to the desk, my curiosity at an all-time high. I want to know what images are gracing those frames. I circle the desk with purpose in my steps and gasp when my eyes find the images in the frames. The first one has Mikaela and Mika and another man that I don’t know, all with big smiles. The second has a picture of the both of us sharing a kiss from the night in the restaurant, which I can’t remember being taken. How in the world did he get that picture? The next picture really catches my attention. It is a picture of me laughing at something, not looking directly in the camera. Okay…now this is weird. The dress I am wearing in this picture was ruined about a month ago and I have not worn it since meeting Mika. I had to throw it out. I stare at the pictures for a moment, my mind running rampant. It’s weird but there must be a logical explanation for this. But what the hell?
The next thought hits me. What do I even know about Mika Kingsley? I’ve jumped on a plane to Japan with a man I barely know. Christ, I’ve agreed to be his girlfriend. Am I even on this planet right now? I fire up the laptop and when it prompts me to enter a password I am only discouraged for a second. I type in “Mikaela” and I get straight in. I click on the internet browser and stare at the screen for a moment, internally battling with myself. We live in a day and age where you can and, let’s face it, probably should Google anyone. Everything ever posted on social media, by that person or about that person, is right at your fingertips. I’m not even sure why I haven’t thought of googling him before now. For some reason, it feels wrong to do so now, not to mention that it seems like a truly bad idea. Do I really want to fill my head with visions of Mika with a bevy of bimbos? Then again, do I want to be ignorant to everything that happened before we got together?
My fingers hover above the keyboard, my indecision thickening the air around me. Not everything written about somebody is true, I tell myself. I shouldn’t be doing this. But still…a bigger part of me wants to do this so I give in and my fingers fly over the keys. I type “Mika Kingsley” into the search bar and within seconds I see link after link with everything I ever wanted to know about him…and worse, a whole bunch of things I never wanted to know. I decide to start at images first. Why not start the torture right off the bat, right? A click or two later, images start to pop up on the screen. The first few are of the both of us. Paparazzi pictures of us at the restaurant, at the airport, and even of us arriving at this hotel. I feel a little surge of relief spread through me because at least now I know how he got the picture of us together. However, the relief I feel quickly disintegrates as I realize it doesn’t explain the other picture. I scroll through picture after picture of him with one beautiful woman after another, some at events and some in clubs. Just seeing him with these women makes me sick to my stomach. I need to stop looking at these. I change directions and do a web search and the articles populate quickly. I click on the first link and the headline “Like father, like son?” appears right before my eyes. I read the article and dread fills my veins. I knew this was too good to be real. Tears pool in my
eyes. The suite’s doorbell pulls my attention away from the screen. The masseuse!
“Dammit,” I grumble.
I don’t bother closing any of the tabs as I get up and make my way to the living area. I open the door and politely dismiss her, proclaiming illness as the reason. As soon as the door closes I sprint to the bedroom, collect the few items I brought with me, and grab my phone and charger. I throw on the first outfit I see and pull my hair into a quick bun. I grab my things and double check that I have my passport in hand. I am getting the hell out of here. I look around the room one more time, decide I have everything I need, and stride out of the bedroom and out of the suite. The elevator comes mercifully fast and I breathe a sigh of relief that the cabin is empty. When I reach the ground floor I make a beeline for the concierge and request a taxi. He looks at me and then my bags.
“Will Mr. Kingsley be joining you?”
My heart sinks.
“No, he will not. He’s currently at a meeting and I have a family emergency to attend to.” I surprise myself by how easily the lie flies out of my mouth. He doesn’t seem entirely convinced but he picks up the phone and speaks in Japanese. For a moment, I think he might be giving Mika a heads up and I toy with the idea of just turning on my heels and trying my luck flagging a cab. But he hangs up and smiles at me.
“A car is waiting for you outside, Ms. Ray.”
Relief floods through me and the concierge beckons a bellhop to assist me. When my belongings are in the car, I pull a couple of bills out of my purse and hand them to the bellhop. I instruct the driver to take me to the airport as quickly as possible. My heart is pounding loudly inside my chest as the car pulls out into traffic and when my head hits the headrest I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I turn my phone on and book the first flight home I can find. Luckily for me, it is just under four hours away, which gives me plenty of time to get to the airport and through the whole boarding process. I want to call Jill but I wouldn’t even know what to say, so I turn my phone off again, sit back, and catch my last glimpses of Japan.
The meeting with Eisuke Kobayashi has taken far longer than I intended. The entire thing dragged on and on, and instead of being pleased about the fact that I was about to close the biggest deal in the history of Kingsley Incorporated, I have been on edge. Kobayashi, in his cheap three-piece suit, has lost all appeal to me, money to be made or not. As I sit here listening to him ramble on and on, I come precariously close to hating the little man and the fact that he and his petty numbers were robbing me of my alone time with Raeva. I felt trapped like a jungle animal in a cage and it no longer seemed to matter that I was the one who had insisted on this meeting in the first place. Profits be damned! For some unfathomable reason, I can not seem to help the resentment growing inside of me.
On top of that, I have been consumed with wild, irrational thoughts of Raeva and what she is doing. I don’t think I can recall any time prior to Raeva walking into my life when I have ever had such trouble concentrating or controlling my emotions. Today, I had to double and then even triple my mental efforts to focus on what Kobayashi was saying. This just can't happen again, but all I know is that the constant flow of fantasies about her are winning out.
Thoughts of Raeva’s sexy mouth on me…of her beautiful long legs wrapped around my waist…of my head buried between her thighs…fuck. Yeah, those thoughts were most definitely not helping me concentrate. Furthermore, hiding a raging hard on during a very important business meeting isn’t an easy feat. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here.
I hightailed it out of there at the very first opportunity with a haste that probably made him and his board of directors think I was running a marathon instead of conducting a multi-million-dollar deal. All thoughts of tact and cultural diplomacy went out the window. I had to get out of there. I had to get back to Raeva. Anything and anyone that was in my way was just an obstacle to be overcome. In my haste, I almost hadn’t stopped to pick up the surprise I had arranged for her. But imagining her wearing this particular gift... let’s just say that the thought alone was enough incentive to take the extra time away from her.
I chuckle to myself at how easily I accepted what she is to me. I need and crave her constantly. Raeva is as important to me as the air that fills my lungs. When I get back to the car I can tell by the look on Sean’s face that he has something to tell me and that I’m not going to like what said thing is. Unease grabs me by the balls and then irritation boils to the forefront at my own ridiculous reaction.
“What is it, Sean?”
He hesitates for a moment. Yeah, I really don’t like that.
“Sir, I have just received word that Ms. Ray has left the hotel. The driver informed me that he dropped her off at the airport about twenty minutes ago.”
I stare at him in disbelief.
“Come again?”
How could she do this to me? How could she just leave me? I feel my chest tightening and my lungs constricting. I literally have trouble breathing. What the fuck is this feeling? I swallow hard, trying to gulp in some much-needed air.
Raeva is... gone? She left? Why? Everything was perfect this morning when I pulled myself away from her to attend the meeting. The meeting may have seemed to last for hours, but in reality it really wasn’t that long at all. What could possibly have happened in such a short period that would cause her to just leave?
My stomach clenches and a mixture of unfamiliar emotions washes over me.
“Sir? I have tracked her phone, sir. She is at the airport. And her credit card just pinged her buying a plane ticket about an hour ago.”
The look of pity on Sean’s face snaps me out of it.
“Alright, let’s go to the hotel.”
Sean blinks at me, his hesitation clear, but then simply nods and gets behind the wheel. We get there quickly. A part of me is hoping she came back, that she changed her mind and is waiting for me in our bed. What the fuck is wrong with me? Shrugging out of my suit jacket I enter the suite and make my way to the sitting area, which is empty. I drape the jacket on a nearby chair and undo my tie as I walk into the bedroom, again hoping to see her in the bed. But the room is also empty. There is no rational way to explain what I feel when I see the bed empty and unmade. I look around for any of her belongings but I see none. I call out her name but the feeling of dread in my stomach is telling me that it’s in vain. Somewhere in the back of my head I knew she wasn’t here the second I entered the suite. I can feel her presence when she’s near. I can feel it so clearly that I swear I can touch it. Her mere presence fills my world with warmth when before it was stale and cold, just like it feels right now.
I walk back into the living area in hopes that she’s at least left a note. When I look down the hall I note the door to my office is open. Somehow I already know what I am going to find before I walk in there. I quicken my pace and circle the desk. That piece of crap article is pulled up.
“Fucking fuck!”
I run my hands through my hair. I scroll through the tabs and I cringe when I see a shit ton of pictures featuring myself with many different women and a bunch of bullshit society articles. Shit. My stomach drops. I had this shit all planned. I wanted to ease her into everything before she saw this bullshit and now …goddammit! I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and dial her number. It immediately goes to voicemail which, to be honest, I expected. I don’t bother leaving a message. I call Sean next.
“Airport, now.” I bark. I am usually not this curt but if I want to catch Raeva at the airport before she gets on a plane and walks the fuck out of my life, I don’t have a second to waste, especially on pleasantries. She is mine.
I’m out of the door and in the elevator in mere seconds. I fucked up, royally fucked up, and I know that if I was a better man I would let her go and give her a chance to get away from me. I should, but fuck if I could ever let that happen. I never claimed that I was a good man. I am self-aware enough to realize just what a selfish bastard I am. I can�
��t go back to before her. Everything changed the moment she walked into my world. Before now I've been walking around in a colorless world, devoid of contrast and focus. Then suddenly, with her and through her, I was able to see things differently.
Life, as seen through her fresh eyes, has finally come into focus. It’s as if her mere presence has redefined my entire world. Food tastes better, the air smells fresher; like I took my first breath when I met her. I don’t want to let go now that I have finally found what I didn’t know I’ve been missing my entire life. Fighting for her is my only option here. I get to the ground floor and pretty much sprint toward the exit. Akihiko Hayashi, the guy who I recently hired to be the hotel’s manager, stops me mid stride. I am in no mood for this shit.
“Everything okay, Mr. Kingsley?” he says, bowing deeply.
I tell myself to calm the fuck down and count to ten. I get to four.
“Sir?”
Five… six… seven… eight… I pinch the bridge of my nose… nine… ten… well fuck. that didn’t help one bit.
“Yes, I am fine. I need to get to the airport,” I say through gritted teeth.
The man works for you. Be fucking polite. I attempt to soften my expression, which about half a second ago must have been murderous.
“I have some hotel business to discuss with you if you could spare me some time?”
I blink hard. Is this a joke? Am I being punk’d right now? Where the fuck is Ashton? This man has an abysmal sense of social cues and apparently absolutely no survival instinct. There are several scenarios about how this conversation could possibly end playing out in my head and none of them look to be ending well for Akihiko.
Tomorrow: Kingsley series book 1 Page 10