Billionaires in Tokyo: A Dom Vs. Domme Story Page 8

  “Did you not understand? I said that I am his wife.”

  The nurse puts her hand on the counter. “We need proof.”

  Is this because I said I wasn’t related to him earlier? Or standard procedure? Or do they not like the tear tracts on my face? Either way, I present her with one of the most damning photos on my phone.

  “It’s our marriage license,” I say. “I keep a picture in case of bullshit like this.”

  Yeah, remember when Ian and I got fucked up in Vegas and accidentally got married? We had to take pictures of that cursed piece of paper to send to our lawyers. I never deleted mine. Guess I considered it punishment to look at. Punishment for being so stupid.

  Not so stupid now, is it?

  Never mind the marriage was annulled as soon as we could get it done. These women don’t know that. As far as they’re concerned, this is so valid they should be calling me Mrs. Mathers even though the title makes me cringe.

  They study the photo before the woman on the left asks me to email it to the computer in front of her. I do as told without hesitation. They can find out it’s fake later. By then, Ian and I will be out of the country.

  I’m rather ruthless when I let Privileged Cunt Kathryn out of the closet, aren’t I?

  “Your passport, please.”

  I hand them my passport for so they can make copies. Naturally, they point out that my last name is not Mathers. What’s wrong with me? Not having my husband’s name, that is. Thanks for the cute reminder why I don’t want to fuck with marriage and its cultural trappings.

  But I will start claiming we have three human children if it means I get to see him. I’ll tell Eva to send over three child actors to play it up. Even better if two are blond and one has dark hair like his. That should get my point across, right? Because I’m not leaving this hospital until I’ve seen my husband.

  After more conferring in a language I do not understand, the English-speaking nurse looks up at me and says, “Follow me. Sorry for not understanding.”

  Now that’s more fucking like it!

  Chapter 10

  IAN

  I’ve been in and out of consciousness for about an hour now. The doctor told me to rest, but how the hell am I supposed to do that when my worries are in overdrive? For fuck’s sake, I’m in the hospital, and I’m not sure anyone knows.

  Doesn’t help I have absolutely no recollection of how I got here and probably never will. Nobody except that one doctor spoke any English, so my earlier attempt to get more water was met with blank stares and meaningless apologies. Hell, I’ll even take watching Japanese baseball on TV, except I dropped my remote on the floor fifteen minutes ago and I’m too tired to reach down and pick it up. Whine, whine, whine.

  Mostly, though, I’m lonely and in desperate need to see my woman.

  Suppose that makes me sound like an asshole. My woman. I could say I don’t mean it in the caveman way, but hell, I kinda do. Kathryn is unequivocally mine until death do us part. Don’t need a valid marriage license for us to believe that. Hell, I’ve resigned myself to never marrying the love of my life, but when she’s not actually my wife, or even my fiancée in everything but personal truth, what am I supposed to call her? She’s been more than my girlfriend for over a year. She sometimes calls me her partner, but God, that sounds so trite. Partner makes it sound like business instead of love. I mean, why can’t we be both?

  Besides, I was informed that she probably wouldn’t be able to see me because we’re not legally related. Sure would be nice to be married right about now, huh, Kathryn? Because even if we jump through a million hoops at home to get the same rights as married couples, there are still those other hundred countries we visit that would laugh at those supposed arrangements.

  Of course, now I see you over here laughing at my predicament. Something you want to share with the class? Because I am absolutely not in the mood to deal with coy games. I’m not even sure my addled brain can process mind games right now. So either spit it out or stop looking at me like that. Not in the mood.

  Only things I’m in the mood for are more sleep or my woman. Both are as elusive as my sanity right now.

  A nurse walks in. I haven’t seen her before. She glances at my chart on her way to my bedside. Whether she expected to see me awake or not, she doesn’t let me know. The words out of her mouth, however, are in English. “You have a visitor.”

  It’s probably my mom. Yay.

  “Do you want to see her?”

  Sure. Why the fuck not. Maybe I can revert to my mom’s baby boy and let her watch me while I try to sleep. Either way, she’ll pick up that remote for me, because the nurse isn’t going to. As soon as I nod my head in agreement, she’s off. I wait to hear my mother’s voice barreling into my hospital room.

  Instead, the only woman I actually want to see rushes into my room and gives me the most horrified look I’ve ever seen on her fair Swedish face.

  “Ian!” Kathryn’s taken my hand and slammed it against her cheek. Hot tears touch my skin before I register anything else about her presence. “Oh my God, I’ve been so fucking worried about you.”

  The nurse asks her to calm down. I don’t care. Kathryn’s sudden presence is exactly what I needed to feel better. I wrap one arm around the head nestling against my chest. The other waves the nurse away. Don’t think she wants to watch a couple of sappy Americans fall over each other like this.

  “I didn’t know what happened to you,” Kathryn sobs against my chest. “I couldn’t get a hold of you! You didn’t show up to anything. I thought something terrible happened to you. Or that you…”

  She doesn’t say it, but I know what she’s thinking. That I left her. Something I would never, ever do. Even if it came down to us breaking up one day, I could never leave her cold, let alone in a foreign country! That’s not the kind of man I am. That’s not what our relationship means.

  “I’m sorry.” I’m too tired to join her in her tears of relief. If I could, I would roll over and pull her into this bed with me. Hell, I’d get up, put on my real clothes, and take her far, far away from here. I’d get on my family’s plane and hold her until we touched down back home. Then I’d haul her to my condo and never let us leave my bedroom. I’m not even talking about sex. I’m talking about curling up next to her and refusing to let go.

  She’s the only person in this world who truly matters. Knowing how upset she’s been over me all day breaks my heart and makes me feel more ill than the allergic reaction.

  “I’m here,” I say. Words don’t come easy with my dry throat and fatigue. “I’m okay. I’m going to be okay. Only an allergic reaction to something I didn’t know I was allergic to.”

  Kathryn lifts her head and pushes wet hair out of her face. “Allergic reaction? They told me you had food poisoning.”

  “Feels about the same.” Something hits my brain. “Wait, who told you that? The hospital?”

  “No. Oh my God, if only you knew what I’ve been through today!”

  She tells me, in a garbled tone that continues to break my heart. Kathryn is already neurotic enough on her own. She doesn’t need me disappearing off the face of the Earth to make it worse. She also doesn’t need to go on a treasure hunt to find my dead body, although I don’t doubt she would. I could be kidnapped by assholes looking for a sweet ransom payment and she’d personally go down to the warehouse where I’m being held and scream at them until they release me because they don’t want to deal with her crazy heiress ass anymore. Kathryn doesn’t often fall that far on the crazy caboose, but she will if she has to.

  Aw, she did it for me. Makes me wonder how crazy I can get for her! Damnit. I don’t want to actually think about that. It hurts too much living in this reality right now as it is.

  “Kunihiro, huh?” I don’t even remember. I’m sure he was the one who brought me to the hospital or at least arranged the ambulance for my sick ass. They say Akihiro left early? Fuck, I don’t remember that either. I must’ve been too sick and drunk b
y that point to remember anything. Might as well have been Roofied.

  “That guy is a piece of work,” Kathryn spits. “No wonder he’s bottom of the food chain in the family. If it weren’t for Junri, I wouldn’t have ever found you.”

  “I told them to call you.”

  “They did, but I didn’t get it until we were already here. Even so, you think I could’ve handled coming here by myself?”

  I have enough energy to kiss the back of her hand. “You made it. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. I had to find you. Do you understand?” That hand I kissed cups my face. It’s the greatest touch I’ve felt in my life, like an angel has come to my bedside and blessed me with her ethereal essence. Kathryn’s touches have always been profound to my tiny mortal brain, but this? This is something from another universe entirely.

  The thought of her leaving my side at all tonight kills me. I don’t care if I’m released tomorrow. I don’t want her going anywhere. I’d turn my own mother away if I wasn’t allowed to see Kathryn too.

  “I’m glad you did.”

  The nurse returns, coughing loud enough to interrupt our sappy love fest. “I’m afraid we have to ask you to leave in about fifteen minutes, Mrs. Mathers.”

  Now, the woman’s accent is thick as shit, and I’m addled to hell and back, so maybe I misheard what she said, but…

  Did she call Katie “Mrs. Mathers?”

  “Thank you,” Kathryn says. We don’t say anything until the nurse leaves again.

  “So…” I begin. “What was that about, Mrs. Mathers?”

  She grimaces. “I lied to them about being your wife.”

  Oh ho ho! This is juicier than her lips after she douses them with gloss. “How did you swing that?”

  She pulls out her phone and shows me the picture of our Vegas marriage license.

  “That’s amazing.” Really, it is. Only Kathryn would come up with that on the spur of the moment and convince the nurses that it’s still valid. This after she apparently fudged and said we weren’t married to begin with? Again, amazing. That’s one of many reasons I’m with this woman. “Now Japan is going to think we’re married. How do you feel about that?”

  “Better than how you probably feel right now.”

  I snort. It hurts to snort, thanks. “I’ll be fine, love. You’re the one getting called Mrs. Mathers right now.”

  “Better than you being called Mr. Alison, right?”

  I swear we’ve had this conversation before. “That wouldn’t bother me. I’d lie about being your legally wedded husband if it meant I got to see you, were our situations switched. I wouldn’t think twice about introducing myself as Mr. Alison. Your dad’s pretty cool, and he’s the only other Mr. Alison I know.”

  Something burns behind her eyes. I don’t know if it’s anger, embarrassment, or a new idea forming in that quick mind of hers. “We’ll talk about this later. All I care about right now is making sure you’re okay.”

  “Now that you’re here with me?” My fingers brush back her hair as she attempts to stuff a straw in my mouth. Yes, yes, I’m parched. I don’t care. I want to touch her as much as possible right now. Is it too much to ask that we spend our limited amount of time together touching what we can? “I’ll be fine. Knowing you’re ready to take care of me makes me better.” If I smile widely enough, will she acknowledge that I’m joking?

  She sits up. “God, you’re so silly. Like I’m going to take care of you.”

  I know what she’s thinking. That I’m expecting her to dote on me, maybe mother me since being sick will mean our sex life comes to a screeching halt. (Of course, if I’m not fucking her, then she must be a mother figure, right? I jest, but I know plenty of men my age who think that.) Except there isn’t a maternal bone in Kathryn’s beautiful body. Her idea of taking care of her cat is paying her PA extra money to scoop the cat box and put food in kitty’s bowl. (I’ll have you know I feed my own cat, thanks. Unless I’m away, of course. Who wouldn’t pay for someone to clean the cat box so they don’t have to?) The last time I had a bad cold and spent two days straight in bed, she came over long enough to put a mask on her face and sit on the other side of the room while we talked business and family. I couldn’t even get a kiss out of her! Not that I held it against her. She can be quite the germaphobe outside of one of our sexy scenes.

  If anything, I’m more likely to smother her when she’s ill. Who does she think I got that cold from? Valerie? My dad? Ha!

  “That’s not what I mean, Katie.” She always blushes when I call her by her pet name. “I love having you by my side. I was a moody mess before you got here. Know what the first thing you can do for me is?”

  She cocks an eyebrow. “I’m not giving you a handjob here.”

  Well, darn! There goes that flawless plan to scratch something off my bucket list! “Could you please pick up that TV remote? It’s on the floor. By your feet. Your other foot.”

  “You’re incorrigible.” She slams the remote into my hand. “Here I was going to tell you that you could have anything you want when you get out of here.”

  “Anything? That’s a dangerous thing for you to say, Katie.”

  She sighs. “Shut up. I mean it. Anything you want, buddy.”

  “Skip-howdy, it’s like my birthday. I should eat things I’m allergic to more often, Mrs. Mathers.”

  “Don’t push it. I love you more than my own life right now, so be careful what you do with that love.”

  “Oh, I will be. Don’t worry. When I’m up to snuff again, I’ll go easy on you. Ease into it, you know? With lots of lube.”

  She rolls her eyes so dramatically that I fear they’re going to pop out of her head.

  I hate to say it, and this is going to make me sound like a total dude, but I think I can get it up. Maybe. Almost? Aaahh, not quite. Sorry, ladies, I’m a pretty virile guy, but I’m completely wiped out of commission. Oh well. That means plenty of rest for Little Ian until it’s time to become reacquainted with our favorite woman again.

  Chapter 11

  IAN

  “Wow,” I say, fingers drumming on the first real cup of coffee I’ve had in days. “Congratulations.”

  Valerie smiles in relief. She’s told me her big news. Mama #2. Or is it second time over? Pretty soon I won’t be able to cart her around the world with me again. You know what Kathryn loves? Becoming my assistant on business trips. Really makes her feel like an important member of my family’s business. (Cough.)

  Of course, she’s waited until I’m out of the hospital. With a few extra days tacked on. Both my doctor here in Japan and my one back home – what a FaceTiming experience that was – didn’t want me traveling for a full five days after being released. Extended vacation in Tokyo? I wish I could say it’s been a vacation. Most of these days have been filled with getting caught up with business meetings I was supposed to have back home. A couple of my associates flew out here to see me, that’s how important the damn meetings were. (The fact they could swing by Hong Kong and Thailand afterward helped.) It also meant I couldn’t send Valerie home until I was released as well. Today is our last day in Tokyo, and the only day off we’ve had since I got out of the hospital with a stomachache and still no appetite.

  That’s changed now. Three days in a row of big meals, coffee, and even some alcohol. Yours truly is all better now! What cracks me up, though, is that Kathryn is the one who has had the most time off since I got out of the hospital. She has nothing to do with my business dealings, so she’s been spending her days working in the hotel room (or a café) or going shopping… only to return an hour later, saying she’d rather eat dirt than deal with the Tokyo crowds. Still didn’t stop her from taking a personal shopping assistant with her to surrounding Shibuya and then Ginza and Akihabara. I told her to go home and deal with her own schedule, but she wouldn’t have it. This is her way of taking care of me, I guess. That and she’s too paranoid to let me out of her sight. Again, it’s how she fawns over me when I’m sick.r />
  Now that I finally have some time to myself again, I take Valerie out for lunch since she’s been a total trooper about everything going on. She decided this was the best time to tell me she’s pregnant with baby #2. I could have sworn she had the first one a year ago. Was it really before Kathryn and I got together? I mean, I know her son is talking and walking now, but… Jesus, I’m old.

  “I don’t know much beyond the supposed due date,” she says with a grin on her glowing face, “so at some point we need to talk about my upcoming leave.”

  “Hopefully it won’t be too soon. A man needs to adjust to these changes.”

  “I already told Kathryn I expect you two to get married before I go on maternity leave. I fully expect to be involved with that, you know.”

  She’s fishing for a reaction, and she nearly gets one. Anytime someone brings up marriage with Kathryn, you bet your ass I react. Luckily, I’ve gotten better about reining these pesky reactions in so I don’t give them the giddy freakout I really want to espouse.

  Probably because I’m worn tired thinking about marriage. In an ironic twist of the gender wars, I’m the one sitting around wanting to get married while my intended cups my balls in distraction.

  What’s happened recently is a big example of why we should get married sooner rather than later. I don’t want to be caught in that shit situation again, going in either direction. Kathryn and I should always have easy access to each other, wherever we are. In truth, neither of us have much family. Many would argue that we’re the biggest family the other person has. They’d be right. I’ve got my mother and father, both of whom I love and get along with, but I want a family of my own. Even if that definition of family means Kathryn, me, and our cats. Oh, and our personal assistants coming and going with their copies of our keys. Oh, and my mother barging in whenever she feels like it, thanks to the key she stole from one of our assistants.