Page 34 of Pragma
Even now, I have the urge to fill every part of him with me. In this dim, luxurious bar, surrounded by wealthy people, with a live jazz band playing, while he might be already negotiating the details for a marriage contract.
The bitter taste of impotence and inadequacy burns inside my throat, and I feel the need for a smoke. What I did was reckless and so unlike me. Nothing good could come out of it. I need to keep my head straight. I’m the only one dwelling on it anyway.
Two days have passed since the fitting room occurrence, and Aki has been treating me like always. As if what we have shared was nothing of importance. An itch to scratch. But didn’t I know that already? Aki becomes fixated with things from time to time, and after he gets them, he loses interest quickly. Was experimenting with me one of those things? Does he want to try it with someone else? The way he looked at me, though, all that desire…
A sudden sharp thwack makes me focus my gaze on Aki again. He’s standing, one knee on the sofa, his left hand is grabbing the front of Kobayashi’s shirt, while his left arm is cocked back ready to punch again—which he does. I intercept Kobayashi’sbodyguard as he reaches the table. I trip him and elbow him in the back of the head.
We are in a spot barely seen by the rest of the people in the restaurant, and even if someone did see us, nobody would dare to approach. Aki throws a couple of hundreds on the table. He has a furious expression on his face, which makes me want to pummel the fucker still lying unconscious on the sofa.
“What the fuck happened?” I ask him, as we make our way out.
“I let the shitbag know what I thought about him,” he snaps. So why did he talk to him for so long if he didn’t like him?
“Hot dogs. I want them when we get to my place,” he declares abruptly, as the cold wind hits my face when we step out on the sidewalk.
The limo is waiting for us outside, and we get in quickly.
“We need to talk,” I state, after taking care of the hot dog matter with a text to one of the men.
“About?”
“About what happened in the boutique fitting room.” Has he even given a thought about it, while I keep replaying it over and over in my head?
“Why?” He glances at me for a moment, then proceeds to take off his coat. “I learned that communicating isn’t always the best option.” I open my mouth to reply when I hear his final tone. “Better not to crack those eggs, River.”
What the fuck is he going on about now? And what is this feeling? I’m not angry, but part of my chest feels…cold.
My phone starts ringing. It’sKumicho. Before I can answer, Aki takes the device from my hand. He leans toward me, bringing his flowery scent with a hint of alcohol, making my dick twitch.
“Why do you keep calling River’s phone and not mine?” he answers.
I can hearKumicho’s piqued voice clearly. “He’s easier to reach, you brat.”
He pouts.
“What the fuck happened, Akira?”
“You need to be more specific.” His pretense at ignorance enrages the big boss even more.
“With. Your. Suitor.”
“Oh. It looks worse than it is.”
“You didn’t throw your drink in his face, break his wrist, and then punch him in the nose until he passed out?” Her voice is as sharp as a razor.
“If you want to go into details…”
“Bag of dicks! You arrived in New York a week ago and already made two major enemies.”
The second one being Ling Wang.
“He groped my thigh and said I was cute like a fuck doll,” Aki clips.
That fucking scumbag touched him?
“Strange. The person who recommended him spoke very highly. He’ll get punished for this,” she states in an icy voice.
Or maybe that person set this all up to make Aki look bad, or worse, create friction.
