had been perfect for Tetsuro Nakamura, the black sheep of the Tokyo Nakumuras, on paper. She hailed from an esteemed family, but had still been willing to marry a hafu, the half-blood son of a Japanese father and Chinese mother. They had lived quite peacefully together for the years Suro had spent establishing himself as an International Security Executive at the Miami branch of his family’s company, before they caved into family pressure and had a baby.
However, Yumiko turned out to be more adept at shopping and going on spa days with other executive wives than mothering their son. And when nanny after nanny started quitting due to Kenji’s difficult behavior, it had only taken the eventual Asperger’s diagnosis for her to quit, too. She’d gone back to her family in Japan, and eventually gotten remarried to an older man who already had grown sons and daughters. After the divorce was finalized, she never made contact with him or their son again.
Suro came to realize the bright and accommodating woman he had married had been little more than an act. What she had really been was lazy and money-hungry. Any wealthy man would do as long as he didn’t demand too much of her.
Lacey, on the other hand, had stuck by her daughter. And he had no doubt she would make an excellent mother. A wave of disappointment washed over him. “You don’t want children?” he asked her.
“It’s not about what I want,” she answered. “And please stop pretending you care what I want. If you did, you wouldn’t be up in my apartment with my security key around your neck.”
He turned on his side to face her then. “I care,” he informed her. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re just trying to manipulate me, because you’re mad I stood you up.”
That was true, but what he said next was also true. “And because I care.” He turned his head toward her so she could see the truth in his eyes. “I care about you.”
For a moment her own eyes melted, but then her face hardened and she said, “Then give me back my key.”
“Tell me who you really are,” he countered.
“I can’t,” she said.
“You don’t trust me.”
“No, I don’t,” she told him point blank. “You tracked me down to Chicago, bullied your way into my life, and stole my key. I don’t trust anybody, but I really don’t trust you. Can you blame me?”
“I need you to trust me.”
“Why?”
“Because what I do—I don’t have a pretty career. I can’t come home to a woman I don’t trust. And I can’t trust you if you don’t trust me.”
“Well, you haven’t exactly been doing a bang-up job of gaining my trust.”
And there they were, in yet another stand-off, until Suro said, “I would like to make a counter offer.”
“What kind of counter offer?”
“Be with me, really be with me until Christmas and I’ll give you back the key.”
She seemed to be weighing her options in her head, running some kind of mental calculation. Finally she said. “Okay, but with a few conditions: no more asking me about who I am or snooping around my office or acting like a crazy stalker.”
He actually gave her conditions some consideration. He fully intended to find out who she was before Christmas, and not snooping around or fishing for answers would put a crimp in his plans.
When he needed information from a reluctant source, his go-to methods were searching the guy’s spaces and asking him the same questions over and over again. Along with food and sleep deprivation, this combination usually proved to be effective enough. And though Lacey had done a very good job of covering her tracks, she wasn’t a trained assassin. If he wore her down enough, he’d probably be able to break her.
The only problem was he didn’t want to break her. He wanted her to trust him enough to tell him who she really was, and if he played his cards right, he might be able to gain that trust by Christmas.
“I agree to
However, Yumiko turned out to be more adept at shopping and going on spa days with other executive wives than mothering their son. And when nanny after nanny started quitting due to Kenji’s difficult behavior, it had only taken the eventual Asperger’s diagnosis for her to quit, too. She’d gone back to her family in Japan, and eventually gotten remarried to an older man who already had grown sons and daughters. After the divorce was finalized, she never made contact with him or their son again.
Suro came to realize the bright and accommodating woman he had married had been little more than an act. What she had really been was lazy and money-hungry. Any wealthy man would do as long as he didn’t demand too much of her.
Lacey, on the other hand, had stuck by her daughter. And he had no doubt she would make an excellent mother. A wave of disappointment washed over him. “You don’t want children?” he asked her.
“It’s not about what I want,” she answered. “And please stop pretending you care what I want. If you did, you wouldn’t be up in my apartment with my security key around your neck.”
He turned on his side to face her then. “I care,” he informed her. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re just trying to manipulate me, because you’re mad I stood you up.”
That was true, but what he said next was also true. “And because I care.” He turned his head toward her so she could see the truth in his eyes. “I care about you.”
For a moment her own eyes melted, but then her face hardened and she said, “Then give me back my key.”
“Tell me who you really are,” he countered.
“I can’t,” she said.
“You don’t trust me.”
“No, I don’t,” she told him point blank. “You tracked me down to Chicago, bullied your way into my life, and stole my key. I don’t trust anybody, but I really don’t trust you. Can you blame me?”
“I need you to trust me.”
“Why?”
“Because what I do—I don’t have a pretty career. I can’t come home to a woman I don’t trust. And I can’t trust you if you don’t trust me.”
“Well, you haven’t exactly been doing a bang-up job of gaining my trust.”
And there they were, in yet another stand-off, until Suro said, “I would like to make a counter offer.”
“What kind of counter offer?”
“Be with me, really be with me until Christmas and I’ll give you back the key.”
She seemed to be weighing her options in her head, running some kind of mental calculation. Finally she said. “Okay, but with a few conditions: no more asking me about who I am or snooping around my office or acting like a crazy stalker.”
He actually gave her conditions some consideration. He fully intended to find out who she was before Christmas, and not snooping around or fishing for answers would put a crimp in his plans.
When he needed information from a reluctant source, his go-to methods were searching the guy’s spaces and asking him the same questions over and over again. Along with food and sleep deprivation, this combination usually proved to be effective enough. And though Lacey had done a very good job of covering her tracks, she wasn’t a trained assassin. If he wore her down enough, he’d probably be able to break her.
The only problem was he didn’t want to break her. He wanted her to trust him enough to tell him who she really was, and if he played his cards right, he might be able to gain that trust by Christmas.
“I agree to
Similar Books
