It's my first real taste of how outsiders view my husband and I can see how his effect is intimidating. At 6”5, he already towers over most people, but his shoulders seem even wider, and his chest broader, a mountain of a man. The chill is back on his handsome face. I've seen him in business mode before, but there’s a sharper edge to him, now that we’re away from Scotland.
“Konbanwa,Miss Yamada.” He puts his hand on my lower back, steadying me. “This is my bride, Sophie MacTavish. I trust ye will do everything ye can to make her stay comfortable here?”
Eyes wide, she nods rapidly. “Madam, I have already taken the liberty of leaving a few potential itineraries for you in your suite. Should you wish to shop, or see a show or visit some cultural landmarks, I would be delighted to personally arrange anything you would wish to do.”
A little amused because I have never gotten a reception like this before, I bow my head politely. “You are so kind, thank you.”
Michael refuses her offer to escort us to our suite, and Ian brings us quickly to the closest lift. Two businessmen are about to step in with us, take one look at our bristle of bodyguards and step right back out again. I shake my head very slightly in our mirrored reflection of the steel doors at Michael.
“You do know how to make an entrance don't you?"
His gaze returns to his phone and whatever document he's rapidly scanning, but his fingers clasp mine and squeeze gently, and my chest loosens a bit.
Our suite is a series of rooms with a clean, minimal design and an utterly spectacular view of the city. The walls are apatterned silk that look like the movement of the ocean, and chandeliers are sculpted glass that mimic the same look. There’s an enormous living room with two walls of glass overlooking the city, a small kitchen, a dining room with a long ebony table, and two or three small side bedrooms. The master bedroom commands the same incredible view of the city, with pristine white linens and elegant, drooping orchid arrangements. The men set our luggage in the bedroom, and Ian quickly closes the double doors, leaving Michael and me alone.
Lucky that Michael insisted on buying you all that fancy luggage, Jordan murmurs.Though I would have loved to have seen you drag your ratty old backpack up here.
Yeah, way to put me at ease, brother.
“This isn't the honeymoon. I owe you," Michael says wryly. "However, I think you should do some shopping. Find a beautiful dress that you'd like to wear to dinner this evening. We will be meeting with the heads of the Matsumori Yakuza tomorrow night.”
“Would you maybe get a chance to see a couple of things with me?" I ask. “I'd love to go to Mt. Fuji and spend some time at a couple of the Sengen shrines.”
Somewhere peaceful. The perfect place to tell him that we’re having a baby.
“Of course,” I chicken out. “You’ve probably already seen all of those, you've taken so many trips here.”
This time his smile is regretful. “Sadly, I haven't seen much of the city outside of hotels and board rooms,” he admits. “It’s always been for business. Let me take you to dinner tonight, I’ll make sure to bring ye back for a longer visit, aye?"
"I get it.” And I do. Chieftains apparently don’t get vacations, but maybe that can change. “I’m sure wherever you’re taking me for dinner will be heart-stopping and the most exquisite culinary adventure ever created.”
“Of course it will,” he leers, his hand sliding down to squeeze my ass. “I have a couple of conference calls, and then I’ll be yours for the rest of the night.” He nips the pulse in my neck lightly and I suppress a pathetic little whimper. “And ye will beallmine.”
This trip is off to an excellent start.
Michael is already deep in meetings by the time I wake up. The suite has a board room with a huge monitor and through the door, I hear the muted conversation, my husband’s deep voice and the serious one I recognize as Mason’s. Neither one of them sounds happy.
“Mr. MacTavish arranged a helicopter tour of Mt. Fuji for ye today,” Ian says. “Torin, Mickey, and I will be accompanying ye.”
“Three of you?” I frown. “Is there some new disaster?”
“Standard asset security measures for international travel.”
It takes me a minute to realize I’m the asset here.
I wait for a moment until the room is silent and knock on the door. “Michael? Do you have a minute?”
Kyle opens the door with a polite nod. Michael is armored up in his charcoal grey Tom Ford suit, my favorite, with a forest green silk tie. I wish I could straddle him in that fancy office chair and show him how much I appreciated last night, but he’s got that cold set to his jaw again.
“Oh, crap,” I sigh. “There’s something new and horrible, isn’t there?”
“Jack just called in from Boston.” He rubs his forehead. “They’re under attack. Wallace and Scarlett are on their way over now.”
“Jack’s running Scarlett’s family syndicate business there, right?” I ask. Jack is Maisie’s twin and if I’m right, this is his first big responsibility.
“Aye. Someone burned down their three biggest cannabis warehouses,” he says, still calm but his eyes are glowing with fury.
“Let me stay here today,” I ask. “There has to be something I can do. I don’t want to split up your team playing tourist when there’s so much going on. Your phone call with Mason didn’t sound good, either.”
