“I’ll be that my vicious little wife,” he says dryly, sweeping into the room to take the chair opposite me. “ As long as you know you are done fucking trying me.”
His jaw flexes as he picks up his utensils and begins to eat. His gaze is steady on me as he methodically eats his food. The aroma wafts around us, cloaking the room in delicious scents.
My tummy clenches and rumbles as I watch him. The lower region of my pelvis tightens as I watch the way his mouth covers his utensils. No wooden chopsticks like so many in the US use. I learned once I got here that they are also made from stainless steel, enameled bamboo.Wealthy scions like my husband use intricately carved ones out of various materials. These are silver, inlaid with golden filigree.
“Ah, I see you’ve still not learned from our last altercation.” His gaze lasers on me.
“Never,” I quip, though trying to stab him again with his own chopsticks was not the thing on top of my mind. No, it was those luscious lips and what they do to me. What they’d do again if I allowed him to touch me again.
“You’re becoming too predictable, little one. You’re at risk of becoming boring.” He tsks as the setting of his first course is replaced by the second.
“I can show you just how interesting I can be if you stop being a coward and untie me. How’s your shoulder, by the way?” I smirk, trying not to cringe when I think of all the blood that came from me stabbing him the first time we had dinner a few weeks prior.
“Good as new.” Lifting and flexing his injured arm like I didn’t bury two chopsticks in the area, he adds, “How’s your bottom?” A slow smile pulls across his beautifully cruel face, making my breath catch for a second.
“Fine.” I say through clenched teeth.
“Ahh, I bet. Your pussy?” It’s no longer the false concern of his earlier question. His voice dips to an almost guttural level.
Looking anywhere but at him, I don’t give him the satisfaction of answering. And I do my best to staunch the flood of memory — him fucking me in his blood after I stabbed him. How he jerked out the sharp utensils, making me lick them, then took me ruthlessly on this very table.
“I asked you a question, Bridget?” His harsh words cut through my reverie.
“Fine.” Not daring to look at him, I mumble, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing what his retribution did to me.
Silence prevails as he continues to eat his scrumptious food. My tummy growling drowns out all thought. This part of the punishment has been consistent. I have to wait to eat, and if he’snot here because he’s away working in the city or meeting at his family’s estate, then I have to wait.
My punishment is as draconian as one who was raised in both the Samurai and Yakuza tradition, can only think of to execute.
“You will only be nourishedby my hand.”Little did I know all that would entail.
“Arigatõ, My compliments to the chef,” he nods to the servant, who beams in response to his praise. “Please bring your mistress’s food.”
“Hai, Sensai Takeda.” The young man says, bowing as he leaves.
“Come, my vicious one.” Pushing his chair back, he makes room for me.
Knowing the consequences, knowing what I’m inviting, I shake my head.
“Fuck you.” Giving him a saccharine smile, I push back my seat, ignoring the violent protest of my tummy.
“I’d like to return to my room.” I say over the insistence of my tummy.
The satisfaction of watching his jaw tighten and flex is almost enough to quell the hunger.
Takashi has been gone all day. I refused breakfast this morning. He informed me that he wouldn’t be home until very late, and I refused to eat. Then I had to wait. I didn’t care. He’s keeping me prisoner somewhere deep in the Aokigahara Forest. He must think that holding me in a supposedly haunted forest is going to stop me from escaping him. He is going to be severely disappointed.
He won’t break me. I’ll be the one bringing him to his knees. He says my fight bores him, but acquiescing would bore him sooner. Nah. I know him well enough to push the right buttons at the right time to trigger the right response.
My heart trips a little when his eyes harden hearing my words. This is what he decreed.
“I have business —”
He stops at my shrug. He has to leave and I won’t be eating, so he’s stuck. Struggling to stop myself from cackling, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from folding over into peals of laughter.
“Have a safe trip.” Keeping my face as neutral as I can, I bow, then turn to the awaiting servant.
Following the young woman who has been my constant companion, I ignore the howls of my belly.
