Page 71 of Falling for the Wife

The Michelin star restaurant was located in Azabu, a little gem of a place located in the foothills south of central Tokyo. The Kagami brothers consisted of Haruto, the oldest out of the trio, followed by Kosuke and Takeshi. I’d met them a handful of times. Once here when I came with Peter three years ago and the rest were back stateside.

Though the two younger brothers were pleasant to deal with, the older brother, Haruto, was the one to fully home our focus in on since he made the final decisions. Being the scrupulous one and the oldest, his approval would ensure we’d continue renewing our contracts with the same terms as Peter previously negotiated.

We were warmly received upon entering the famed restaurant.

Haruto was the first to step forward. “Konbanwa,” he cordially greeted, along with his brothers in a formal bow, a customary greeting where one exhibited respect. Depending on the angle, the lower the bow, the greater the respect.

“Konbanwa,” I smoothly countered back, nodding lower than usual before extending my hand to each sibling, addressing each one by name.

“It’s good to see you again, Mr. St. James.” Haruto beamed before his attention shifted to the red siren next to me. “Ah, Ms. Weber. Finally, we meet. You have our deepest sympathies. Your father was an extraordinary man. The world mourns his loss.”

Gisele respectfully bowed in the same crucial method before surprisingly replying to Haruto in fluent Japanese. The old man’s face lit up before he guffawed, brightly impressed with his guest. The two brothers chimed in on the conversation, mirroring the same reaction as their older sibling.

Unfortunately for me, I had learned Mandarin, French, and Spanish. So, whatever it was they were discussing, I was in the dark.

Fortunately, the awkward ordeal didn’t drag on. With the formalities out of the way, they led us towards the back of the restaurant where our large party was situated. It seemed being graced by Peter Weber’s only spawn and heir had intrigued quite a few. So much so that every eligible bachelor in their family was brought in to be introduced to Gisele. Another plausible reason was out of curiosity. Due to my meticulous obsession of ensuring she got to have as much privacy as possible, I consistently made sure her pictures never graced the tabloid drivel, and her name was scarcely referenced in the news.

Gauging their overly animated reaction to her slight bows and warm smiles, awestruck was too mild a word to describe their expressions.

Before we took our designated seats, Gisele stood close to me, dipping her mouth close to my ear. “Everything okay, sexy stud? You’re sulking.”

Mirroring her low baritone voice, I cocked my head so my lips were close to her but kept my eyes engaged on the rest of the party. The less intimate we appeared, the less inquisitive observers took note. “You never mentioned you spoke Japanese.”

“You never asked.” Her eyes twinkled, amused.

My gaze lingered too long on her lips, noting how my body ardently responded at the sight of her crimson puckers. “Do you have any more surprises for me?”

One beautiful brow pointedly arched, cheeky. “I don’t think you’ll stay long enough to find out.”

“Really, Gisele.”

“Yes,really, Mr. St. James.”

Smirking at her mad mission, making sure I understood there was a barrier between us now, I cast her a piercing, primitive gaze, one that detailed all the wicked things I longed to do to that wicked mouth of hers. “The second that bloody door shuts, I’m going to rip that little snug dress off your body, bend you over the nearest chair, and strike that little insolent arse until it’s pink and sore.”

“I’m sure you would. But until then…” she murmured, letting the words hang between us, teasing me to no end.

Our gazes locked for a hasty moment. For a wild heart-thumping beat. Senses heightening. Pulses quickening as we instantaneously got engulfed by raw, potent lust. Like a snake, it wrapped around the body, clutching onto it with deft precision, mercilessly constricting its fragile structure as it seized its hapless prey, biding the perfect ripened time to consume it whole.

“You drive me mental.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

The banter went straight to good ole reliable jack. “Bloody hell, I’m hard.”

“Business first. Pleasure later.” Gisele pressed her lips together, stifling a laugh mischievously. “Looks like we’re ready to be seated. Can’t wait to tease you across the table.”

Bloody hell, woman, I could do with a short reprieve. “One more thing, Gisele. Will you kindly stop flirting! It pisses me off.” I’d perfected the poker-face look for years now, but tonight, I was starting to wonder if this feat was still attainable.

“Now’s not the time to bring out the crazy, babe.” Gisele lightheartedly patted my shoulder, gleeful. “Reel it in. I believe in you.”

My insides thawed at the very sight of her blissful face.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” I quietly observed, loving this buoyancy she and I were intimately sharing.

“Maybe so,” she whispered melodiously, leaning against my ear. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself. You can do me however you wish. I beg for you to be selfish. Take me for your own pleasure. Do me hard, rough, soft, or fast, I won’t stop you. Tonight, I’m simply yours. My body and mind are yours to command. You will think for me. You will own me. I won’t surrender to you as Gisele or as your wife; I’ll humbly be just a woman standing before you, surrendering her all, with a sole purpose in mind—to be your singular vessel of pleasure, to be savagely used and properly abused.” She sauntered away while I guardedly watched, paralyzed at the images my mind conjured up and the blinding recognition of my uncontainable hunger where she was concerned.

FUCK.

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