Billionaires in Tokyo: A Dom Vs. Domme Story Page 5

  I almost drop my fork. “Whoa. Congrats?”

  “Oh, it was planned, so thank you, but I only found out for sure a week ago.”

  This certainly explains a lot. Valerie already has a son with her husband, and she has talked about having more. Yet them planning the second so soon after… wait… how old is her son? He was still an infant when I started dating Ian, so that would make him two or three. Right?

  I have no concept of time, clearly.

  “I haven’t told Mr. Mathers yet because he’s so busy with this project, but I guess I should when we get back home. I’ll need to arrange my maternity leave anyway. Last time he very generously offered me six months with pay, but I only took three.”

  “I remember. He gave you a bonus to make up for the other three.”

  “Ah, yes. Happened right before my birthday, so that was nice.”

  I nodded. One thing about Ian, he’s loyal and kind to his employees to a fault. Granted, Valerie is one of his only personal employees he’s responsible for, but I don’t doubt the rest who work for the Mathers are equally treated. Don’t know yet. I’ve only recently been added as an official employee. Once I get my paws on those personal files, I’ll know whether to yell at him or not. At the very least, when Ian takes over the family business one day, his little woman will do everything in her power here to make sure the employees are treated well. It’s sort of my thing, you know.

  “I’m sure it won’t be a problem for him.”

  “Well, I know one thing. I don’t want to be on leave when you two finally decide to tie the knot. I want to be there for every moment he freaks out over it.”

  She’s joking. I know she is, and yet a comment like that throws me off my guard. “What makes you think that’s happening before you get back before maternity leave?” If and when we officially get engaged, it will be a nice, long engagement. Valerie’s second kid will be in nursery school before anyone hears any wedding bells. I’m feeling a little ill thinking about it – both the passage of time and the whole getting married thing.

  Poor Valerie. I think I’ve freaked her out. “Nothing! Not in particular. Sorry, it was a stupid joke.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Don’t worry, though, I’m sure you’ll be one of the first to know if and when that’s happening.” I force a smile. “Ian wouldn’t be able to help himself.”

  “Yes.” Good to see her relaxing again. I don’t want to be the bitchy girlfriend everyone fears. “He really loves you. Every other week he asks me what he should get you for a present.”

  “Oh, so you’re the one responsible for my collection of spoons from all fifty states?”

  “Perhaps.”

  After dinner I go back up to my room. Are you shocked to find out that Ian still hasn’t contacted me?

  I’m officially freaked out.

  This isn’t like him. I don’t need to know his every movement, and God knows we’ve gone days without knowing where the other is due to life and work, but this is different. We had plans today. We’re in a foreign country together. Ian never ignores my texts for this long, even when we’re having communication breakdowns. We could be so angry at each other that the world is rocking from our bullshit, and he would still respond to my texts with quick, terse words. We’re not fighting at all right now. In fact, we had been looking forward to this trip for the past month while the plans were solidified. So what fucking gives?

  I can’t take it anymore. I go downstairs to the front desk and find the first person I can who speaks English. That would be the night auditor’s assistant, a woman small in stature but big in vocal confidence.

  I ask her to either find me Ian or at least someone who might know where he is. After consulting with her coworkers and on the phone – in Japanese, of course, which I can’t understand – she comes back with a room number. It’s the room Junri is staying in.

  “You may go up.” She points to a private elevator. “Although I do not know if she’s in right now. If so, there is a standing order that she does not mind if either you or Mr. Mathers stop by as needed.”

  I thank her. I don’t know how Junri will find Ian – or why she would know, since she was with me and not him – but perhaps she can use her connections and language skills to put this shit to rest. Of course, my head is in worst case scenario mode… which means I spend my ride up figuring out how much a yakuza ransom might cost.

  Chapter 5

  IAN

  Where the fuck am I, and why do I feel like I’ve been slammed by an armored truck?

  My eyes refuse to open. Beeps and hums surround me, but they don’t make any sense. What’s beeping? The fuck is that humming? Why does it smell like sterile ass?

  Fuck me. My senses are coming back, and I hate myself for every single one.

  My mouth tastes like ass. Everything sounds like ass. I feel like a giant ass. I’m afraid to open my eyes and see some large, pimply, wrinkled ass hovering over my face – that’s how good this day is.

  The last thing I remember is partying with the Isoyas. How long ago was that? What did I drink to give me a hangover like this? I’ve drunk some pretty hinky Japanese shit before, but I’ve never been out like this. Is it my age? Kathryn is always going on about how she can’t drink like she used to now. Maybe that’s finally catching up with me too.

  Fuck! Kathryn! I’m supposed to meet her for lunch. Where is she? Fuck it, where the hell am I?

  People are speaking in Japanese. At first I think it’s a TV.

  I no longer think it’s a TV.

  A man and a woman. The woman is deferential to the man, who grunts here and there while making more of those beeping noises appear. Slowly, slowly my ears begin to focus. Bright lights everywhere. My toes struggle to wiggle. Something I do rouses the attention of the man and the woman, who begin to talk excitedly with every movement I make.

  It’s not until I start passing out again that I realize I am in a hospital. Fuck my life.

  Chapter 6

  KATHRYN

  Even though I’m told that I’m welcome to knock on Junri’s hotel room door, I still feel apprehensive as my hand hovers.

  It’s simply not polite to interrupt relative strangers on their nights off, you know? Especially in Japan, where everyone and their kids have packed schedules and barely any moments to themselves and their families.

  Fuck it. I need to find out where my future husband is.

  It takes a few knocks before I hear rustling on the other side of the door. The person who opens it is not one I expected.

  Certainly, it is not Junri. Not even close. The only things this woman and Junri have in common are that they’re both Japanese and women.

  This young woman is noticeably younger. Perhaps my age, but younger than Junri. She’s shorter and wearing cutoff shorts alongside a baggy blue sweater. One hand on her hip tells me she has no idea what to make of me. I have no idea what to make of her either, considering.

  “Uh, hi…” Did I knock on the wrong door? I recheck the number. This is what the lady downstairs wrote. “I’m looking for Junri.”

  The mystery woman leans against the doorframe. Her casual stance implies she’s comfortable being in a suite in one of the nicest hotels in Tokyo. Big, brown eyes look me up and down. Is that the hint of a grin tugging on her mouth? I’m sure a tall blond American doesn’t show up every night.

  “Not here,” this woman says with the thickest accent I have yet to hear. I barely make it out. Just in case I really am that stupid, however, she makes an X with her arms and says, “Inai.”

  Anything that ends with “nai” is a negative in Japanese, I’m pretty sure, so I’m guessing that means Junri is definitely not in her suite tonight. “Do you know when she will be back?”

  That look is so blank I can’t feel anything other than stupid. Clearly, this woman does not speak English. Since I don’t speak Japanese, we’re going to have a real good time.

  “Never mind,” I say, turning.

  “Matte.” I
have no idea what that means at face value, but I’m guessing she wants me to stop. So I do, turning once again to meet those brown eyes that are so damn critical of me.

  The woman briefly disappears back into her room. The murmur of the TV attempts to lure me in, but I stay out in the hallway, staring at my phone in the hopes Ian will tell me what’s going on with him. I’ll even take “Sorry, hon, sleeping with some hot Japanese woman to mix things up!” so I will at least stop being worried. (Then I’ll be angry, and he better hope I never, ever find out where he is!)

  See what my imagination does when left to its own devices? I need to find him. Now.

  Junri’s friend returns with a piece of paper. It’s in Japanese, with a few numbers thrown in. “You take.” A finger flicks the paper now in my hands. “Go to taxi. Find Jun.”

  “This is where she’s at?”

  Even though she probably didn’t understand me, the woman nods. “Is fine.”

  I’ll have to take her word on it. “Thank you. Sorry for interrupting your evening.”

  Once I’m back downstairs, I find the English-speaking employee and ask her what she thinks. She confirms that what I have in my hands is an address for neighboring Shinjuku – because I totally want to be reminded of that place right now. She offers to hail me a taxi and do all the talking for me. Why not? The fuck do I have to lose right now?

  The driver takes a look at my address and, with the level of professionalism I’ve come to expect from this country, opens up the rear door and nods in affirmation.

  Although Shinjuku is only a few blocks away, it takes us nearly fifteen minutes to get there due to traffic. During that time I continue to text Ian, berating him for not bothering to get back to me even though I’m losing my fucking mind. I also text my best friend Eva back home. I have no idea what time it is on the east coast or what she’s even doing today, but I can’t keep this to myself any longer.

  “Ian’s missing,” I text. “I’m currently looking for him. Seriously, if you happen to find out anything, please let me know? I’m worried sick.”

  The car pulls up in front of a dark strip of cafés, bars, and other businesses that are already closed for the night. I shove a few bills of yen into the driver’s hand and get out. One of the only bits of English on the piece of paper I received matches a sign hanging high above my head. “Life of Lily.”

  Most Japanese business names don’t make any sense. Oh, they make sense to the Japanese, but to little ol’ me they might as well be English gibberish. Or French gibberish. I may not be fluent in French like Ian is, but I know when it’s totally, utterly incorrect.

  Another difference between locations here and back home are that the bars and restaurants in Japan are so small. We’re talking practically miniscule. Seat maybe up to a dozen people at most. This goes for the larger chain places, too. Good luck finding a seat that doesn’t have you bunched up against someone only two inches away. The Japanese are excellent at not making you feel too claustrophobic even under these conditions, but it also makes it way, way more awkward when you walk into a tiny restaurant and realize everyone in there is looking right at your blond ass.

  It’s too much to ask for an English-speaker in here. So when the one woman on duty walks forward with panic on her face, I have to think quickly. She’s either going to pass out or throw me out. It’s not unusual for these tiny places to kick foreigners to the curb.

  “I’m looking for…” Nope. This woman does not speak English. That panic is only getting worse on her face.

  “Kathryn?”

  Oh, thank God!

  A tall figure gets up in the far corner of the room. Poor Ms. Junri Isoya looks almost as shocked as the server in this classy, albeit tiny, restaurant. Probably does not help that I’ve clearly caught her on a date. The man sitting across from her gives me one of those indifferent gazes that sends two totally different kinds of chills down my spine. What do you want for me? My tracks will stop for any tall and dark stranger who can look at a woman with nothing but sex in his eyes. I know that I’m a lucky woman to have Ian, but I’ve got a feeling Junri is pretty lucky herself.

  Anyway, I shouldn’t be staring at people I don’t know…

  “What are you doing here?”

  The server approaches us. Junri says something to her in Japanese to get her to back off. The other women – it is mostly women in here, isn’t it? – politely look away, but their ears are burning a deep, crimson red as they eavesdrop.

  “I’m so glad I found you. Your… I don’t know who she is, actually, but she told me that you were here and that you were okay with…”

  She takes me by the forearm and drags me toward the bathroom. Of course, the ladies’ room is much too small for us to both fit in, but she makes do by cornering me and lowering her voice. “Who gave you this location?”

  “Uh… well, I went to your room, and a young woman told me…”

  “Maji de…” Junri relaxes, but I have a feeling someone is in trouble. “I can’t believe she… never mind. What’s the problem?”

  Problem? I’ll give her a problem. “My boyfriend, I mean Ian, is missing and hasn’t been seen since your uncle and cousin took him out partying last night.”

  It takes a few seconds for her to understand what I’m saying. “Missing? You mean you can’t find him?”

  “No. The last people who saw him were your family.”

  “Shinjiraremasen.” I don’t know what that means, but it’s probably not good. “He’s not answering messages or anything?”

  “No, we had a date today, but he never showed up. He won’t answer his calls or texts. His assistant can’t find him, either.”

  “Tokyo is a big place. Easy to get lost.” Junri glances at her date, the man paying no attention to us as he scrolls through his phone. “Maybe he got lost on his way back to the hotel.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. I still would have heard from him.” Even if Ian was drunk enough to stumble into a ditch for a few hours, he still would have found a way to get back to the hotel or at least call me. Unless his phone died. Or… oh God, unless he was robbed! In a city that doesn’t speak a whole lot of English, and he doesn’t speak the local language! “Do you know anything?”

  “No. My uncle has already gone back to Sapporo. Have you talked to my aunt?”

  “I haven’t seen her.”

  “My cousin may not be back to Nagoya yet. We can ask him, since he was also there.”

  “Do you know where they went last night?”

  Junri shakes her head. “I can guess, but my aunt would know. We’ll ask her.”

  “I should have gone straight to her, but I didn’t think you would be having a night off. I’m sorry for interrupting your, uh… evening.”

  Junri shrugs. Nothing about her expression suggests she wants to keep up a façade. “It’s a date. I can see them again later.”

  Good job, Kathryn. Cock block a woman who works twice as much as you do in a society where free time is the most precious commodity. Junri probably needed this night to keep her sanity, and what do you do? Drag her away from a date!

  “You don’t have to help. I can find your aunt.”

  “Oh, no. She’s not at the hotel. I know where she is. I’ll take you. Wait a moment.”

  She goes to her date, bends over, and whispers something in the man’s ear. A low, gravelly voice reassures her before they share a kiss. The man pulls out a cigarette as soon as Junri settles the tab with the restaurant. They give each other one last glance, and good God, is it painful. I know what it’s like to put on airs in public, to throw people watching off your loving scent. This is the sort of thing that transcends culture. When two people are deeply in love but don’t want to admit it.

  Is this the person they were talking about last night? The person below an heiress’ station? He looks like a scruffy bad boy, even in his pristine dress shirt, jacket, and slacks. The masculine, over-the-top alpha way he takes Junri by the hand and gives her a kiss in
front of me is both meant to be a parting gift – and a display of ownership to the whole room.

  A room full of women, but whatever.

  Junri’s blushing like a schoolgirl as she passes me with her purse on her shoulder. “This… this way.” Now I feel even worse. I was tearing this hardworking woman away from a guy who was probably going to fuck her until she couldn’t breathe anymore. That’s absolute cruelty in my world.

  “You really don’t have to do this.” I follow her down the stairs and onto the narrow street. She pulls out a tissue and wipes her nose before hailing a taxi on the corner. The driver automatically opens the doors for us, and we slip in, my head constantly turning back toward Life of Lily. “If you tell me where your aunt is, I could go find her myself. Maybe she could help me contact the police.”

  “Don’t involve the police.” Junri doesn’t bother to buckle up as she gets on her phone. I’m assuming she’s calling her aunt. “We can find him ourselves. If something happened on my family’s watch, I would have found out. You would have found out. I promise you that my family is not involved with Mr. Mathers’s disappearance, but they may have a solid lead.”

  “But? You’re leaving something else out.”

  She shudders. “It has nothing to do with this situation.”

  Right. I took her away from her hot date. I’d be annoyed too.

  We drive north toward a ward called Ikebukuro, another party hotspot that is crawling with tourists and young clubbers alike. On the surface it looks the same as every other main neighborhood in Tokyo, but I guess many of the people traipsing up and down the crowded sidewalks are different from what you see elsewhere.

  Of course, none of them look like Ian.

  Fujiko Isoya would have been completely elusive to my foreigner eyes if it weren’t for her niece leading the way into an upscale karaoke lounge. The howling sounds of ‘80s music blasts through the chambers every time someone opens a sound-proofed door. Occasionally a well-dressed man or woman emerges to use the restroom. There are no other foreigners here, and I definitely get a look when I walk in behind Junri.