After finally arriving at Ritz-Carlton in midtown Tokyo, I imagined after our shared intimacy Gisele would succumb and share my bedroom without qualms.

But alas, she simply plucked one of the two-set keycards and chose one of the suites as hers. Subsequently agreeing to a particular time to leave for tonight’s schedule, she barely glanced at me before stepping into her room and hastily locking the door, barring anyone from entering without bothering to extend an invitation to me. It was one thing to shut the door on me and quite another to shut the door and lock it.

It was merely moments ago when she couldn’t get enough of my body. Yet here she was, confusing and frustrating the living daylights out of me.

What the bloody hell was going on in that beautiful head of hers?

Women! I would never dream of daring to decipher the intricate madness of their ever-shifting mood swings.

Feeling beyond damningly rejected, I stood there, furiously glaring at the door, partially tempted to knock it down and drag her to my bed just to prove a bloody point, while the other half argued she rightfully needed a short reprieve from my ravenous appetite and consistent onslaught on her hole. You see, she was a tad swollen. It seemed the more abuse her cunt got, the tighter she became. It was surreal, but I couldn’t get enough of her either way. So maybe her locking the door was a testament that I’d gone overboard.

I was beyond miffed she chose to shut me out. Her defiance merely got me even more determined to win her over.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered under my breath as I raked a hand through my hair. After directing another lingering glance at the door, I grudgingly spun on my heels and retreated into the suite which was right across the hallway from hers. Alone.

After showering, I opted to dive into work. We had several hours left until we were to have dinner with our hosts. Gisele should have the respite until it was time for her to play her role.

Several hours later, primed and ready to leave, Gisele was nowhere to be seen. I specifically had ordered two keys for each room, ensuring one had access to the other at all given times for emergency reasons, amongst other obvious motivations.

After promising she’d be in my suite at the time we agreed upon, the woman chose to be late. Or had she fallen asleep? Hell, I hoped not.

“I should’ve dragged her to stay with me,” I grunted under my breath, slamming the glass on the bar before going out the door.

Hastily striding towards the suite across from mine, I rapped at her door, and she merely hollered back she needed five more minutes to finish. So, I went back into my suite and waited while enjoying a glass of brandy, patiently eyeing the time on my wrist.

Her time came and went, and she still wasn’t ready. Damn, what was she doing in there, priming for a beauty pageant? Trotting back out to the hallway, I tried to slide the spare key into her bedroom to no avail. The bloody thing was still barred.

“Five minutes just passed, Gisele!” Irked, I’d resorted to yelling in the damn hallway because she had barred my entry, at a Ritz at that. It didn’t bode well with me.

Goodness me, how arduous was it to don a dress and be done with it?

“Okay, I’m done. Cool it, sheesh!” she griped as she yanked the door open, strutting out dressed in a red embroidered Chinese silk dress with explicit high slits that almost reached her hips. Displaying her long-toned gams and ample curves. Hair in a high chignon profiled her delicate features. Heavy winged eye makeup made her gray eyes mysteriously exotic.

She was the embodiment of demure stretched to its limits.

Noting the look on my face, Gisele began to frown. “I know we’re not in China, but I’ve always liked this dress. It’s not offensive, is it? Asian customs can be quite strict, and I just want to make sure I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes. I don’t want to insult anyone.”

The only thing insulted was my cock.

I pressed my grim lips together, rapacious eyes roving over the delicious stunning creature before me.

“You look exquisite, Gisele.” I doubted any man would be thinking of anything other than their hardening pricks at the sight of her in a tight-hugging dress. She put runway models to shame. Good God, I loathed to ponder the night ahead.

“You sure?” She enticingly bit down on her crimson bottom lip, still unconvinced. “Or should I go change?”

“Ah, no can do! I’m not going to wait another God knows how long for you to change. This deal is quite important. Letting them wait will certainly insult our hosts. Your father used to deal directly with them. Let’s not give them the impression we’re not up to the task of continuing Peter’s good graces.”

As much as my perverted eyes hankered to see her strip naked, jeopardizing this deal was out of the question.

She made a curt nod, erotically sashaying as she closed the gap between us before leaning over to leave a sensuous peck on my lips. “Let’s go,” she whispered mischievously before her wicked hand cupped my manhood, pleasingly purring when she found the hardened state of it. “Good to know you definitely like what you see.”

My upper lip twitched, tempted beyond comprehension to pin this minx against the wall for locking her damn door on me. “Enjoy it while you can. It won’t be long until it punishes you for shutting me out.”

“Ooh, I’m shivering down my spine,” she retorted, pouting mockingly. “If you’re through with your itsy-bitsy penis threats, St. James, can we get a move on now?”

I groaned as my palm heavy-handedly smacked her bottom cheek before squeezing it avariciously. “You’re really getting it tonight.”

“I look forward to it.” She kissed me softly, thoroughly, painstakingly.

It couldn’t be helped. I was unequivocally mesmerized. She was the ultimate tease. “Christ, Gisele. You’ve bewitched me.”

“Good. Now we’re even,” she cheekily stated, earning her another firm smack on the bottom.

Arm secured around mine, we headed downstairs. The chauffeured car was at the curb the moment we stepped foot outside the hotel. We were immediately greeted with the cool air. Placing a firm hand on Gisele’s backside, I led us towards our awaiting ride.

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 in on our focus since he made the final decisions. Being the scrupulous one and as 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 respectively 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 entailed 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.

Bloody.

Mighty.

FUCK.

Lurid, lecherous imagery filled my wanton mind. My mind slushed. My cock pulsed. And I knew then, with complete and utter certainty, I was well on my way to capitulation. Gisele Weber-St. James would inevitably be my undoing.

Slowly, progressively, tenaciously, my perpetual addiction would inevitably devour my existence.

It had already begun. It steadily closed in on me.

Lock, stock, and barrel.

And I was petrified. Rightfully so.

With my mind heavily dwelling on Gisele and everything in between, Takeshi and I engaged in conversation that momentarily diverted back to business. While Gisele sat in between Haruto and his British wife, Eunice, I could faintly hear him subtlety ask questions, though indirectly. After Peter’s death, it was understandable, but Web Technologies, Inc. was a multi-billion-dollar company. Our ingenious designs and innovations led the world markets. Our intricately engineered cutting-edge web security was the best out there. Therefore, this meeting could also be a mere formality to forge a stable bond and confidence in my new role in the company. Gisele’s attendance was vital to soothe whatever qualms they had. And as the dinner went on, it was apparent how pleased they were with her. We were all predominantly geeks here. It was a given they adored her. This was a constant repetition wherever she was concerned. Geeks or otherwise. A fact I’d yet to get used to…barely managing to quell the jealousy each time one of these men ogled her.

“Are you seeing anyone, Miss Weber?” Eunice, Haruto’s wife, directed a question to her, warm hazel eyes approving.

The table quieted down. Her lapping admirers patiently peeled their ears to hear her response. As did I. My hand involuntarily gripped the chopsticks so hard I almost broke the silver utensils.

“Not at the moment, no,” she responded smoothly, as if she hadn’t orgasmed from my fingers, tongue, and cock for the past fifteen hours or so.

Satisfied with her answer, Eunice gazed across the table to where I rigidly sat, eavesdropping on their conversation. The Brit gave me her keen attention, delicate features lit with fresh interest. “Are you strict, Mr. St. James? As her guardian, I’m sure you screen every potential suitor with diligence. Thank heavens I didn’t bear daughters. My husband would go mental with each potential suitor.”

“I try.” I merely nodded, feeling like a damn fool. I was secretly married to the woman in question but felt powerless to stop men from pursuing her. All due to my specifications to continue my everlasting bachelor lifestyle. I was sure Gisele couldn’t wait to divorce me and have a handful of men to savor before choosing her husband to be.

It was a horrid thought, but if the time ever arose, I’d bloody make sure he was worthy of her. She deserved the very best, and I wouldn’t let her settle for less.

Takeshi and I engaged in a conversation, and Eunice and Gisele carried on discussing Stanford and her passions. While Haruto and Kosuke seemed quite taken whenever Gisele spoke, I found it rather amusing to see aged men being played by a young, beautiful woman. Since they had known Edna Weber through the years, their conversations revolved around her sweet, kindhearted mother.

Edna had been as sweet as she had been fierce. She’d had Peter eating out of the palm of her hands. I remembered watching the couple and being infuriated that Paige and Penny had been taken away from me, because had they survived, I’d be sharing that deep entrenched kind of love with Paige as well. My mood had soured after witnessing them sharing a moment. While little Gisele had played the piano in the background, I remembered Edna coming to me with a sympathetic smile pasted on her face. She’d merely held my hand, as if in an unspoken understanding of how I felt and if there was ever a need to vent, she was there for me. She had been a gentle soul, the very life of the Weber household, and when she’d died, the house had never been the same.

Gazing over at Edna’s daughter, I acknowledged she had brought up a brilliant woman. I was quite certain Gisele’s fluency in languages was her doing since Peter hadn’t left the country without his wife. As his wife, she was thrust into certain situations, so being fluent in other languages sure made things easier to conduct business.

Just like Gisele is doing now. She was the perfect partner, in business and in bed.

Could I fathom truly granting her a divorce even if it was to happen years from now?

I had given her my word…

Yet I was starting to feel inclined to backtrack on my promise. Where was the honor in that? Surely, sex hadn’t jaded that aspect of me as well, had it?

Why pretend to consider when I already knew the answer.

Damn it all to hell.