Amber: The Crazy Beauty

SIMOUN'S POV "Your private jet is fueled up and ready to go by five in the morning. The pilot will be expecting you, and the second we land in Japan. There's a car I'll have waiting for us. We'll check in at our hotel, catch a bit of sleep, then prepare for our meeting with Onel Satoh that evening," Kai said. "You have a penthouse suite booked, correct?" I asked. "I do." "And the car has tinted windows?" "It does." "And you'll be driving. Not someone else?" "I'd never stick you with someone you haven't vetted yourself. Not since the incident." "Good. You're the only person I remotely trust at the moment. And until we get through this stuff with Mr. Satoh, you're the only one I trust. We're there for the week, correct?" "Yes, sir. One week in Japan, wining and dining Mr. Satoh until he can't do anything but say yes. However, there's one last preparation we need to discuss." I shook my head as I swiveled my chair and gazed out the window of my office. "We've been over this," I said. "I don't need a fake fiancée hanging off my arm during this trip." "You told me to set this up so that you were in a position to win, no matter what. Onel Satoh comes from royalty. That's how old his money is. And since we'll be in his territory, we have to abide by his rules and traditions." "And tradition states I need a fiancée?" "Tradition states a man of your wealth and age should already be married with a child, but I'm settling for a fiancée." "No." "Sion, Onel's perspective concerning stability and security is paramount. He doesn't trust a man who doesn't have a woman at his side." "Explain to me again why that is? Without throwing the word 'tradition' around." "Where Onel comes from, if a woman approves of a man, then anyone else can. In his world, women are the strongest vetters of men there are. Onel won't trust or do business with a man without at least a fiancée because, in his eyes, if a man cannot get a woman to trust him, a man isn't capable of doing anything else. Plus, I've done some research into his other partners." "Let me guess. They're family men," I said. "All of them. Each with their own wife, children, and sometimes mistress on the side." "Nice to know they have a moral code," I said flatly. "You have to play the part if you're going to secure this for our company," Kai said. "At least until the deal is signed. The fake fiancée will give the perspective that you are stable enough to take this on, and then we can arrange some sort of argument. A dissolution of the engagement. You'll stand on your own, Onel will get a taste of how you stand on your own without a family, and all will be settled." I shook my head as I ran my finger across my upper lip. I didn't like this. I didn't enjoy playing pretend. Fake wasn't something I did. Smoke and mirrors were something I avoided wholly. This was the part of my business I detested the most. Schmoozing future clients and partners and having to make all sorts of small talk. I wanted to get down to business. I wanted to strip away all the niceties and lay out the pros and cons of every move we were to make as partners from here until the end. That was how I operated. But apparently, Onel Satoh worked under pomp and circumstance. "I'm there to make a deal. Not play house," I said. "And playing house is one of the ways to seal this deal. If you want to succeed, then we'll discuss what kind of woman you want hanging off your arm," Kai said. I sighed and closed my eyes. I wanted this deal. More than anything. I'd lived it and breathed it for months, and the time had come to meet face-to-face and sign the paperwork. I knew there was a catch the second Onel didn't want to fly to us. He'd been flying into the Philippines from Japan every chance he got. The tables were turned, and I was being asked to step up to the plate, and I had to admit that Kai had never steered me wrong before. Even if his plans seemed a little off the rails. "Okay," I said. "Okay?" Kai asked. "Yes. Okay. But I have no idea where you're going to find a woman that will impress the likes of old royalty like Satoh and hold herself with a poise expected of a woman at my side." "A professional, of course," he said. "A professional that won't want to sink her claws into Manila's most eligible and richest bachelor?" "Nice to know you don't have an ego." I turned my chair back around as a grin slid across my face. "The magazine called me that. Not myself. And if we're going to do this, we're going to do it perfectly. I'll have picky standards, from how she looks to how she speaks." "Hence a professional," he said again. "I'm curious as to what you mean by that." Kai began typing on his laptop as I drew in a deep breath. He'd been my right-hand man at G.P.S software ever since its inception. What began as a company developing GPS software with military uses grew into technology I spun off into a dozen different subsidiaries over the years. After the military made my technology standard in all their drones and newly developed ships, the money I raked in went to other projects I founded in different countries for different reasons. And Kai had been there to oversee every single one. A friend since college, an equal partner in my businesses, and the only person I trusted after my childhood best friend stole my technology right from underneath me and attempted to sell it as his own. Good thing it was only the first beta and was riddled with bugs that needed patching. I spent all my time working. It was the only thing I knew. I had an ensuite bathroom and small bedroom attached to my penthouse office suite on the top floor of my headquarters in Manila City. Besides the view from my penthouse apartment, it was my favorite place to sit and overlook the city. The press constantly hounded me about who I was dating, if I was married, if the woman that had come forward and professed her child to be mine was, in fact, mine. But I didn't date. I had no time. No patience. No trust when it came to people. I didn't enjoy the game of it all. The sitting down for dinner and plastering on smiles. The fake laughs at jokes that were never meant to be funny. And I sure as hell didn't enjoy women contorting themselves in bed to my every whim just so I'd pull out my wallet for them in the future. I didn't enjoy games and I didn't enjoy facades, so dating wasn't something I indulged in. Work was the only thing that stayed honest and ungirded, raw and vulnerable without any shame or shadow. Work was my only love. My only passion in life. And my bank account boasted of the success I'd had over the years. "This is what I mean," Kai said. His voice ripped me from my trance, and I watched him set his laptop down in front of me. A website entitled "Executive Call Girls" sat on the screen, and I rolled my eyes. A legal prostitute. Great. I sighed and shook my head, my eyes closing as a headache began to creep up on me. "Here, read their 'about' section." "The callgirl site has an about section?" I asked. "Just read it, asshole." A chuckle fell from my lips as I opened my eyes. They flickered across the screen, taking in the promises the company said they could deliver on. Intelligent women. Decorous women. Discreet escorts for businessmen on the go. Discreet was nice. She'd have to keep her mouth shut on the deal at hand. But I didn't simply need someone intelligent; I needed a woman with grace. A woman with poise. A woman with a taste for muted decadence and one who would keep her legs closed around the rest of the rich men I'd be around for an entire week. "You want to hire me a high-class call girl," I said. "From the research I've done, they provide the most tailored experience and the best women to do exactly what we need for the next week." "Did you try this out personally?" Kai groaned as he reached over and clicked a button. "Look through these pages. You can tailor down what you're looking for in a woman, though I already set a few parameters," Kai said. "Foreign languages?" I asked. "Yes. I already filtered it down to a woman who can speak multiple languages, a woman who has a bit of talent outside of sitting and drinking wine, and a woman with curvier features." My eyes locked on to Kai's as he sighed. "Just look through the women. There's pages of them, Sion. We have to nail this. And if you want to nail this, then you have to pick a woman. Simple as that." "I'm not nailing her, if that's what's required of me." "Nope. Only the perception," he said. "Good. The last thing I need is some call girl thinking this is a James Bond 007 movie." "Nice reference drop. I'll applaud you later." I pulled the laptop to me and began clicking through the pages. Women with jet-black hair and blonde hair. Brown eyes and green eyes. Some women had tattoos, and others were talented artists. Jugglers. Fire breathers? No. I clicked through four pages of women before my eyes fell onto one of them. Amber, no last name. I pulled up her profile and began to read her talents, and one of them jumped out at me immediately. The young woman was fluent in Japanese and also familiar with the world of finance. That would help me greatly during my stay in Tokyo. But when I clicked on her profile picture and toggled through the five photos she had on her page, I was blown away when I saw the sexy brunette with sloping curves and breasts that made me want her in front of me and not Kai. "Ah, she's a good one. She caught my eye as I was flipping through the pages." I jumped at Kai's voice as he peered over my shoulder. "How long have you been there?" I asked. "Long enough to see how long you've been staring at her picture. She'd be perfect for the role. Especially with that long neck. Slap a decent set of pearls on it, stick her in a black cocktail-" "Find another one," I said. I shoved the laptop to him before I scooted my chair back. "But she's perfect." "Find another one," I said plainly. That was the issue. She was perfect. Too perfect, with those beautiful hazel eyes and long limbs that held curves I already wanted to sink my teeth into. I came across plenty of women my cock wanted throughout the day, but it had been a long time since I'd wanted to jump into bed with one of them. And the sight of Amber in those pictures alone made me struggle. No. She was the worst option. I didn't know if I'd be able to resist the temptation of what she held between her legs if she was at my side an entire week. I didn't know if I'd be able to not take advantage of all the talents a call girl had at her disposal. "Are you sure?" Kai asked. "Positive," I said as I grabbed my suit coat. "I'm going home to pack. You should do the same." "Already have." "Good," I said. "And seriously. Pick someone else." "I heard you, sir." I shot him a look as he packed up his things, then waited until he walked out of my office. I didn't care that he was upset. I also didn't care that she had the skill set I needed for this trip. If a pair of long, juicy legs like hers were pressed against me for any amount of time underneath a dinner table, I'd be paying Onel Satoh absolutely no mind. Not when I was trying to bury my fingers into what I knew would be a warm, tight pussy.

SIMOUN'S POV I flipped through my phone, checking my emails while my eyes darted to the clock on my phone. Not only was Kai in the fucking hospital with food poisoning all of a sudden, the woman he apparently hired to occupy my side was late. Kai's "bright idea" to seal this deal for me was fifteen minutes late. I hated it when others were late. I hated it more than not working. Punctuality ruled my world, and this sorry excuse for a woman already had me fifteen minutes behind schedule. A had a dozen different businesses I ran within a given day. I couldn't afford to wait hand and foot on a woman who spent too much time dousing on mascara and applying fake eyelashes. I glanced out the window as I shot a text off to Kai. didn't like that he was sick. Not only did that leave me down the only person I trusted in my world, but I couldn't stay behind to make sure he was okay. Kai was a bachelor like myself, so if the hospital staff weren't taking care of him, then he was in bed until things like this passed. I should've known things would go terribly wrong once he told me he was sick and not able to make it to Japan. "Miss Villadoza?" "Yes, Mr. Cardenas?" "Go ahead and close the door. Apparently, my other passenger isn't going to be making it either," I said. "Yes, Mr. Cardenas. We'll get you up in the air soon enough." I watched my personal flight attendant walk over to the stairs to get them pulled up. I tried Kai's bright idea. It wasn't my fault the woman didn't know how to set an alarm. I tried it, and it didn't work. Which meant I was officially off the hook. Then, I heard the clicking of heels coming up the stairs. "Sir?" the flight attendant asked. "Yes?" "I believe your party has arrived." A woman came around the corner, and the second I saw her, two things happened. My cock stiffened against my pants, and my anger flew out of control. I gripped my phone tightly as the long-legged, brown-haired beauty came walking down the aisle with her head held high, her long neck accented with a dainty emerald necklace and her suitcase rolling behind her. It was the beauty I told Kai not to hire. When it rained in my world, it poured. "Mr. Cardenas. I'm Amber. Your companion for the week." She came close and held out her hand, and her scent blanketed me. Musky, with a slight hint of fruit. An expensive scent that forced all the veins in my groin to pulse. I looked down at her hand, at the dainty fingers decorated in the slimmest rings. Rose gold, a beautiful color that accented the lightly tanned nature of her softness. I was so distracted by her grace and her long, fluid legs that I'd almost forgotten to respond. This was exactly what I didn't want to happen. Exactly what I didn't need this week. "Simoun Cardenas," I said as I took her hand. "But call me Sion. Or any other pet name you wish to regard me as for the week." "I took a look at the file my boss put together on you. I thought something along the lines of 'honey' or 'darling' might suffice." I whipped my gaze up to hers, and she graced me with the smallest grin. A sense of humor. A dry sense of humor. My cock throbbed as I gazed into her hazel eyes. Her long brown hair was set in natural waves that cascaded just beyond her shoulders. Her eyes were highlighted with a neutral eyeshadow and cat-winged eyeliner that drew me into her mysterious grace. Her shoulders were strong yet harnessed a delicacy that dripped into her voluptuous bosom. Her waist fell inward, beckoning to my hands as I took in the softness and warmth of her handshake. I released her, concerned that if I kept a grip on her I'd soon find my palms at her hips with my face between her thighs. What I wouldn't give to toss those legs over my shoulders and fold her in half. "Mr. Cardenas? Miss Amber? It's time to buckle up and take off." I peeled my gaze away from her face and nodded toward my flight attendant. "Of course, thank you, Miss Villadoza. Amber, won't you take a seat?" "I'll get these for you," the flight attendant said as she took Amber's suitcase. She sat down with ease into the leather seat across the aisle from me. Her deft fingers quickly buckled her body into the seat before she crossed one smooth leg over the other. My eyes drifted along her lines, along the long form she donned before taking in her heels-red-bottomed with a black, sleek outline. Saucy, but with a conservative cover. I felt the back of my neck heat as I cleared my throat. I didn't have time for distractions. Not when a huge deal like Onel Satoh's partnership was on the line. I released the grip on my phone and opened up a text message to Kai. I had a very serious bone to pick with him. To: Kai What the hell is wrong with you? This was the woman I specifically asked you not to request. He shot back with a response that made me chew on my inner cheek. From: Kai I did. Her name was Samara. But her passport was expired, and Amber was the only other woman with the necessary skills to pull this off. She'll be fine. Good luck. I was tempted to shoot him a text message back to tell him to choke on his own vomit, but I resisted. The plane began to taxi on the tarmac, and I slipped my phone in my pocket. I needed to calm myself down. Take deep breaths and not think about the fact that the most beautiful woman alive was sitting across the damn aisle from me. I snuck a glance at her and watched her turn her head. That long, graceful neck swiveled, and her veins rolled underneath her glistening skin. I held back a groan as I watched her gaze out the window, losing herself in her own little world as she folded her hands in her lap. She was perfect for the role. Even when she thought no one was looking at her, she held herself with a poise I only found in women raised with riches around them. I wondered what her life was like outside of that website. "Have you ever been to Japan before?" Her voice caught me off guard as the plane leveled out in the air. "I haven't," I said. "It's a beautiful place. I enjoy walking around it at night. I went to see one of my favorite operas in the New National Theater Tokyo." She turned her gaze to me, and I watched her eyes twinkle. "You enjoy opera," I said. "Very much so. My favorite Madama Butterfly , but Kurofune is a very close second. There's this bakery that sits not too far down from the opera house, actually. They make these wonderful apple strudels that make me salivate even before I turn the corner. And if you make your way to the 'snack market,' as they so accurately call it, there's this chocolate shop that has a small edible city that lines the wall of the shop. You can actually pay a small fee and choose what part of the city you want to devour and then watch them make a replacement in the back. It's incredible. One of my favorite places to go, by far." I sat there, entranced by the look on her face. She talked as if she knew the place well. The sparkle in her lovely eyes pulled me in, but the lilt in her voice and the happiness she seemed to exude kept me hooked. She told me stories of strolling up and down the streets and the street performers that had pulled her into her acts. I enjoyed listening to her talk. "What do you do for fun?" she asked. I drew in a deep breath as a small smile crossed her cheeks. "I read," I said. "Oh, so do I. Though I'm a sucker for my tried-and-true love stories. What do you read?" "Technical manuals. Business books. Self-help things. I enjoy staying on top of my industry as well as my mental health." "Mental health is very important," she said. "For many, it's a constant struggle. It's a facet of many people's lives that goes unchecked because of the stigma it comes with in this culture." A sadness permeated her eyes for a split second, and I wanted to ask her about it. But she changed the subject before I could. "What about movies? Do you enjoy any recent ones?" "Not really a movie-goer," I said. "Don't own a television." "Isn't technology your industry?" "It is, but that doesn't mean I enjoy surrounding myself with it when I'm not working." "Are you ever not working?" she asked with a grin. I chuckled and shook my head. She was intuitive. Another facet of her I enjoyed. This really wasn't good. "Would either of you enjoy anything now that our flight has stabilized?" Miss Villadoza asked. "I would love a mimosa, if it's possible," Amber said. "I'll take one as well," I said. "Anything to eat?" Miss Villadoza asked. "I'm okay for now, but thank you," Amber said. "Two mimosas will be all, thank you," I said. I had every intention of ignoring the drink, but I needed to get into the habit of doing things alongside her. If she ordered something, then I needed to order something. That was how being a couple worked, right? I knew she was asking me questions and telling me stories so I had some so I had some sort of backstory on her, so I needed to make sure I got into the same groove-to learn the same kinds of things about her in case Onel started asking me things about my fiancée. The flight attendant came back with the mimosas, and Amber reached for hers. And the second she did, her dress rode up her thigh. The soft skin came into view, riding up just beyond the middle of it, and suddenly I was reaching for my drink and taking it down in one gulp. My mouth felt dry. My cock screamed out in anger. She lowered herself back into her seat, but her dress stayed put, taunting me with its softness and direct trail to the place where a woman's body was always warm. Before I knew it, I was on my third mimosa and feeling very mellow. Damn it. This was the problem-the issue with women like Amber. I shoved my empty glass away and pulled out my phone, relegating myself to something else other than conversing with my call girl for the week. "So, what exactly does your business-" "I need to work," I said. I felt her look over at me, and I forced myself not to look back. "Then I suppose I'll take a nap," she said. "Enjoy." I started responding to emails and checking on certain things as Amber leaned herself back. I had no idea how long I was staring at my phone, but the second I heard soft, even breaths coming across the aisle, I could no longer keep my eyes away from her. I tried not to stare at her as the hours passed. I attempted to get as much work done as I could. But she was too damn beautiful, and I had way too much champagne in my empty stomach. It was going to be a very long week.

AMBER'S POV By the time we landed in Japan, it was after midnight their time. I stretched myself a bit as the flight attendant gathered my things, and I walked behind Simoun to disembark the jet. There was a car already waiting for us, blacked out and sleek as the night sky of Japan back dropped the airport we had descended into. I still felt groggy from the flight, but with each step I took toward the car, I grew excited. Awake. Alert. I hadn't been in Japan since my days at boarding school in China and I couldn't wait to take in all the familiar sights and smells. I missed my former life. It enabled me to travel the world in first class at the drop of a hat. I missed having my father around. I missed indulging my sweet tooth with him. I missed watching him and my mother kiss under the Cherry blossoms tree while I'm eating my favorite sushi. Now, I was lucky if I didn't have to fly coach. Being on Simoun's private jet was decadent, much like the life I used to live. I hauled my things into the back of the car, watching as he bypassed me with his nose in his phone. Well, I guess I didn't need to expect a gentlemanly demeanor from him during the week. I shut the trunk and slid in beside him, trying to keep up my poise while containing my excitement. Simoun didn't strike me as the type of man to get excited about anything. Without a word uttered between anyone, the driver pulled off the tarmac. We traveled through streets I recognized and rushed by shops I used to shop in as a little girl. I smiled as I peered out the window at the darkened world behind the tinted windows of the SUV The partition was rolled down, and Simoun was typing away on his phone, doing whatever it was he did. I ran through some of the information he had fed me on the plane about himself, trying to piece together who this man might be. I needed to be able to talk intelligently about him and act as if we were in love. If I'd read the file right, I was acting as his supposed fiancée. That came with an entirely different set of parameters for how I needed to address him, appear around him, and act with him. But I didn't have much to go on. Even after a nine-hour plane ride. The car pulled into a very old, very expensive hotel I recognized immediately: Amanemu-ishe-shima National Park. I contained my excitement as it bubbled in my gut. I'd only been to this hotel once, and it was by far the best stay I'd ever had in the country. And even though Simoun was quiet and removed, he really was a looker. I stole a glance at him as he started talking to the driver. He had dark blond hair swooped meticulously to the side. He was tall, with long legs that sprawled out and comfortably occupied the space he demanded as his own. His suits were tailored to his body, allowing my eyes a peek of the lean muscle he had underneath the layers of expensive fabrics. He had on thick-framed glasses that hid his emerald-green eyes, and his long, dexterous fingers continuously rolled over his phone screen. His hands were large, his legs were strong, and his wingspan was easily double mine. His jawline looked as if it had been chiseled from marble, and his pouty lower lip jutted out whenever he was deep in concentration. Maybe making some bonus cash with him wouldn't be as distasteful as it usually was. I enjoyed sex. I was an independent woman at the prime of her life. I loved it, actually. I loved experimenting with it and sweating during it. I enjoyed the sounds and the tastes and the memories it created. I considered myself a strong, independent woman, one who owned up to her faculties in life and never once shied away from things many men traditionally expected a woman of my stature to shy away from. But that didn't mean having to pretend to be aroused with random rich men who wanted what they could pay for was enjoyable. In fact, it was the exact opposite And in a lot of ways, it had spoiled sex for me. After my first three encounters with men who wanted nothing more than to do with me as they wished, I went the other route with my temporary career. Straight arm candy, and nothing else. I enjoyed that line of work. I enjoyed clients who wanted me to be charming, intelligent, and well-mannered without all of the other stuff that came along with the reputation of a "call girl." Of the three men I'd been with throughout my career, they had one equal complaint: that it didn't seem as if I was enjoying myself. And I hadn't. I couldn't. Sex was something to be enjoyed only when one's heart was in it. And rich men who had diaper fetishes didn't trip my trigger the way it did theirs. Then again, I was a call girl. So why should my heart be in it? I let out a silent sigh as Simoun climbed out of the car. If he had addressed me, I'd been too deep in my thoughts to notice. I slipped out of the car and pressed my heels into the ground, then wrapped around to the trunk and grabbed my things out of the back. The driver was grabbing his things, and I had half a mind to tell 'Simoun darling, get your shit here.' The penthouse suite of the hotel was gorgeous, quite unlike what I remembered from my childhood. Everything had been updated. The walls had been painted a gorgeous cream color-much better than the brown they used to be. The furniture was all new. That terrible leather was gone, and it had been replaced with a microfiber that felt almost like silk. I looked around the room and smiled. Part of me wanted to regale Simoun with the memories I had of this place. And part of me wanted to go to my room and put space between us. "I'm going to work for a few hours, then turn in early. If you want, you can order room service. Just charge it to the room. The bar, the fridge, the snack bar-all of it you can use. The spa services as well. I want you to use those. You'll need to be relaxed and look your best this week." "Of course," I said. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I am very eager to try the tub in the bathroom, however, so I'll make sure to keep it down." Simoun flickered his gaze up from his phone before he turned his back on me. Without another word, he dipped for his bag and made his way into his room. That man really had a stick up his ass. I rolled my things into my bedroom and headed straight for the bathroom, pouring an insane amount of bubbles into the hot water I had running. The tub was carved deep, made specifically for those with longer legs, like myself. The marble was beautiful, and I stroked it with my fingertips. The feel of luxury underneath my toes was something I'd missed. It reminded me of a time when I was happier. A time when my family was whole. A time when my life felt complete and not like the chaotic disaster it had become. I placed my folded clothes into a chair in the corner of the bathroom. Then, I slipped myself underneath the bubbles. They popped along my skin as the hot water took over, and my muscles relaxed with each second that passed. I ran my foot up my smooth leg, sighing as I leaned back. I tried to ignore the throbbing between my legs as I closed my eyes. Simoun was good-looking. And obviously, my body thought so as well. I leaned my head back and allowed the water to soak the tendrils of my hair. The bathroom filled with the scent of rose petals, and I smoothed the bubbles over my skin, cleaning myself of that long flight and the grogginess that still lingered upon my mind. Then, my stomach let out the loudest growl I'd ever heard in my life. Despite the finger foods I'd had on the jet, my stomach still roared for more. So much for a long, hot bath. I slipped from the bubbles and unplugged the tub, then reached for the fluffy robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I wrapped myself up in its warmth and sighed. I closed my eyes and imagined the arms of my father enveloping me in their comfort. Tears rushed to the back of my eyes, and I shook them away, setting my sights on food. I needed food, not to be stuck in my past. I headed out of my bedroom and made my way into the living room. I picked up the phone on the table and dialed the kitchen, then ordered a miniature feast fit for a queen: matsutake mushroom, a shrimp cocktail, kujira, a bottle of red wine, ruby roman grapes, and a matcha cake for dessert. I set the phone down and made my way to the couch, falling down onto it, my robe running up my legs. I sighed as I sank into its softness. It cradled me like a cloud as I propped my heels onto the arm of it. I reached down and wiped away a small trail of bubbles that led up the outside of my thigh, the sensation causing me to giggle. My robe fell down my body even more, exposing my damp skin to the air-conditioning of the room. Goose bumps puckered against my legs as I reached for the blanket tossed over the back of the couch. Then, a small movement caught the corner of my eye.

SIMOUN'S POV For the love of heaven, Amber was fucking beautiful: her skin all flushed from her bath, that little giggle of hers as trace amounts of bubbles still lingered upon her skin, the way her long legs stretched out and rested easily against the damn couch arm. She was driving me insane. My cock had been hard since she said she was going to take a damn bath. And the second I went into my room, I couldn't stop thinking about her naked body in that warm water. I came out into the living room to enjoy the view of Tokyo from the massive windows that lined the living room, and there she was, ordering an impressive amount of food that made me salivate as well as my cock leak. Her robe was nothing but a fluffy sheet of fabric. Here I was, trying to get some damn work done at a small table while overlooking Tokyo, and she was out there, waiting on food and exposing her legs to the point where I wanted to bend her over the damn couch and slide my cock right into her body. This fake fiancée shtick had been tempting me the entire flight, and watching her spread her long limbs out on the couch made me ache to be against her, to press her into the couch, to fuck her until she called out my name so the whole of Japan knew who she belonged to. At least for the week. Her eyes met mine, and that cute little smile of hers fell into a shocked sort of stare. I wasn't used to having this sort of reaction to a woman. They pursued me, never the other way around. I'd never paid any attention to them. I preferred to concentrate on building my empire and personally vetting all those I surrounded myself with. Plus, I wasn't into the gold-digging type. Most men enjoyed that. Many men enjoyed women who gladly parted their legs as long as they bought them expensive things. But that wasn't my type of woman. I wanted to worship a woman who worshipped me. Not my wallet. Sure, plenty of women threw themselves at me. It happened on a regular basis. But they were always after my money. None of them wanted to know me or what I was about, nor cared a damn about my business or why I traveled. They wanted to travel with me as long as I gave them free reign of my bank account and my credit card. They didn't bother with me, so I didn't bother with them. Period. But then again, the sexy vixen known as Amber-whose body was sprawled out onto a couch as the lights of Tokyo twinkled against her skin-was a professional. She didn't have to know me, and I didn't have to know her. Not really. Not truly. I could use her body to satisfy my urges without regret or worry because that was what she had been hired to do. That was her profession. Hell, she was my fiancée for the week, and if I ever got engaged myself, I would most definitely take advantage of the prime situation I found myself in. If Amber was really mine, I'd rip her luscious body off that couch, pin her back against the floor-length windows, and gaze out along the beautiful city while listening to her chant my name. I could possess that beautiful body of hers, and the simple thought caused my cock to leak against my pants. "Excuse me," I said. "Enjoy your dinner." I felt her eyes on me as I exited the room. And the second I stripped down, I sighed with relief. My boxers were soiled, and my thighs glistened with the cum that dripped from my cock all the way from fucking Manila. I flipped on the shower and made the water as cold as I could stand it, then stepped into the stream. I let it flow over my body. I allowed it to penetrate me to my core, causing me to shiver. The cold water would help my erection go away, help my body to calm down. Help my urges to recede. Except it didn't work at all. I reached down for the warm water and turned it until steam filled the bathroom. Then, I laid my forearm against the wall and pressed my head into it. If I couldn't get my girth to die down, then I had another option at my disposal. I allowed my mind to wander as I wrapped my hand around my cock. I closed my eyes and imagined myself storming into that living room. I saw myself ripping her off that couch and crashing my lips against hers, listening to her sounds as I slipped that pathetic excuse for a robe off her body. Fuck, I'd lick her from head to toe. Run my tongue around her nipples and drive my cock into her tight pussy until she gasped and cried out for mercy. I'd delay her orgasm, licking her clit and burying my face between her thick thighs until she quaked for me, only to back off and slide my cock in again. Over and over, interchanging and driving her wild. My cock. My tongue. My fingers. Each one different than the last. I saw myself slamming into her pussy, inching my way into her asshole. Sliding between those pillowy lips of hers that were still clad in a crimson shade of red that made my balls hang low with want. I licked my lips and stroked my cock. I squeezed it as I imagined myself tossing her legs over my shoulders. I'd pin Amber's wrists above her head and pound into her, listening to our sounds of wetness as she arched into me, pressing her tits into my face. She'd explode on me as her juices sprayed from her pussy and soaked my skin... "Fucking... hell... shit." My legs pulled taut, and my balls pulled up into my body. I felt Amber's lips against mine as her sighs and giggles of pleasure filled my ears. I fucked my hand, shooting thick threads of cum against the shower wall. And even as I sank to my knees, heaving for air, my mind still lingered. What I wouldn't give to trace my fingertips along the outline of her long legs. What I wouldn't give to lick her from head to toe, listening as she gasped my name. What I wouldn't give to taste the sweetness of her juices on the tip of my tongue until she fisted my hair and drew me closer. I sat on the bottom of the walk-in shower and caught my breath as my mind filled with images of her. I cleaned myself up and got out of the shower, but my mind still wandered. Even as I sat down in my room and opened the blinds to work, all I could do was surf the internet. I clicked around and filled my mind with the newest updates in my industry. And of course, that name popped up the second I refreshed my news feed. Hugo Centrio. A frown overtook my entire face, and suddenly Amber was the furthest thing from my mind. It looked as if my nemesis had a sharp new startup that had become lucrative. I opened the article and scanned it, growing angrier by the second. Apparently, the Japanese military had given him a very hefty contract for his work. I wondered how much of my recycled tech was in Hugo's new software. Anger bubbled in my veins. I closed my laptop and tossed it off to the side before I closed the blinds. I turned off the light and slid my naked body underneath the covers, figuring I could get some sleep. But all I did was toss and turn the entire rest of the evening. Jet lag. I hated jet lag. It always threw off my schedule for days. And by the time I got on a decent schedule, it was always time to go home and deal with it again. At least, I blamed it on jet lag. For all I knew, my sleeplessness could be because of the wildly sexy woman beyond my bedroom door.

AMBER'S POV After falling asleep last night with a full stomach right there on the couch, I woke up to the afternoon sun of Tokyo streaming through the window. I got up and went to take a look, marveling at the beauty of the view. It hadn't changed one bit. The surroundings and the colors of the penthouse had changed, but not that. Not the beautiful skyline of the city I loved so dearly. I drew in a deep breath before I turned to Simoun's door. How long was he going to sleep? I made my way into my room and changed into something more appropriate: slim-fitting jeans and a silk blouse. I fixed up my hair and applied a bit of makeup, then glanced at the clock. It was two in the afternoon. Surely Simoun would be up soon. But as the hours ticked by, not a sound came from his room. The penthouse was gorgeous, but I was itching to see the city. Experience the food. Walk among the kindest people I'd ever come into contact with. But I was sort of stuck until my client woke up. I was here on his dime, after all. It wasn't like I could simply leave and explore of my own volition. Taking him on as a client meant I was there to await his pleasure. Abide by his rules. Play by his game, sensual or otherwise. I stood at the window and looked out among the bustling city as my mind wandered. What kind of lover would a man like Simoun be? Obviously a quiet one. Was he wild? Voracious? Kinky? Would he be the one-minute kind of man most men were? The three men I'd engaged with at the beginning of my career had been the easiest men to please. A little tweak there, a little nibble on the neck. A few good pumps and they were slumping over me as if they'd run a marathon. Even the few men I had been with outside of my career were that way. I sincerely hoped a handsome man like Simoun wasn't that type of lover. Not that I'd ever figure that out. It was as if he was avoiding me. Like last night, when he excused himself so quickly after lust flared in his eyes. I shook the thought away. It didn't matter. I was there to do a job and nothing else. I watched a bit of television and unpacked a few of my nicer things. I made myself a small snack in the kitchen and finished off the red wine I'd ordered last night for my decadent meal. And finally, after almost half past four in the afternoon, Simoun emerged in a trim suit as he fiddled with a cufflink at his wrist. "We'll be going out to dinner this evening," he said calmly. "Do you have appropriate formal dinner attire?" "I do." "Good. Because we don't have time to go shopping. I'll be working until dinner, which will be at eight. I need the time to prepare us for the evening ahead. Get yourself ready. Pamper yourself a bit since there is some time to kill. I'm sure it'll take a woman like yourself some time to prepare." I wasn't sure what that statement was supposed to mean, but I think it meant he needed me to look my best. But he didn't have to worry; I prided myself in always looking my best. As the daughter of a rich man, I had a few key pieces already in my wardrobe that were always set to stun, and I'd brought most of them along with me. However, the word "pamper" caught my ear. I was never one to turn down a bit of relaxation. He looked up at me briefly before disappearing back into his room, then closed the door with a thud. I made my way downstairs to the eleventh floor where the spa services were located. I signed myself up for a nice massage and a mani-pedi, then sat in one of the plush chairs in the corner. A glass of cucumber-and-kiwi water was delivered to me, and I drew in a deep breath. Oh, the memories this all brought back. During my mother's prime, she'd taught me the value of self-care. How a woman investing in herself was an investment in those around her. If a mother and a wife couldn't keep herself stress-free, she couldn't possibly help and support those around her, nor could she succeed in anything she set out to do in life. Self-care, she said, was the difference between men and women. Men grew fat and lethargic as they sat at their desks, neglecting themselves and their families for the sake of success. Real success, my mother said, was knowing how to find the balance between personal health and professional health. I missed those talks with my mother. "Miss Amber?" I opened my eyes and looked up at the woman in front of me. "Yes?" I asked. "Your pedicurist is ready for you. After that is your manicure, and then we'll finish you off with a wonderful hour-and-ahalf mass e, complete with relaxing aromatherapies. Would you like to add any other services, such as a complimentary facial or a nice painted design on your toes or nails?" "No, thank you," I said as I stood. My phone vibrated in my pocket as I settled my feet into the warm water. I pulled it from my pocket and recognized the number instantly. My mother's facility was calling. My heart sped in my chest as the bubbles around my feet kicked on, and I held the phone up to my ear with a trembling hand. "Hello?" I asked. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Amber. But we wanted to call you the second the mail run got finished up." "Is something wrong with my mother?" I asked. "It seems as if someone has sent her a less-than-pleasant letter." "Define 'less than pleasant.'" "It's a letter we needed to report to the police, ma'am." I furrowed my brow as the technician got started on my feet. "Send me a picture of the letter, please. Immediately." "I've already emailed you a picture of it, but I wanted to follow it up with a phone call. Because of who you are and who your mother is, we've upped the security around the facility until the note can be resolved. I wanted to keep you abreast once the police officers left with everyone's statements." "And my mother's all right? She's safe?" I asked. "Physically, yes. On any other charge, let me know after you read that letter," she said. "Thank you. I'll take a look at it immediately." I hung up the phone without saying goodbye, my heart pounding in my chest. I navigated to my email and tapped on the newest addition to my inbox, then clicked on the image that downloaded itself straight to my phone. I studied it closely, zooming in and taking in the details. The cursive writing. The formal speak. The lightly browned paper and the signature at the end. It was identical to a letter I'd received not long after my father had died. My mother and I had still been living in our penthouse apartment on the outskirts of the city. She hadn't quite spiraled as much as she eventually did, so I was doing everything in my power to keep her out of the limelight and rooted to reality. By myself. But when the nation caught wind of my father's passing and the circumstances that surrounded it, a note similar to the one that had been delivered to my mother came directly to our complex. Well, not directly to it. The postman delivered it and stuck it in our box at the front of the building. But still, someone had been stalking us then, and we alerted the police to that fact. Alerted them to the threat on our lives the person boasted of in the letter. But with the controversy that publicly surrounded my family's name at the time the letter was delivered, the police couldn't have cared less. They told us many more would probably show up just like it, and that we needed to get used to it. I settled on the fact that the police didn't give a shit about our lives after what my father had done to theirs. I was taking care of my mother alone at that point. She was spiraling into a depression I couldn't keep up with, and I did the best I could to keep her afloat. But that one threatening letter was enough to force me to change my identity and commit my mother to the private facility she was in now. I lived in fear every day that the person behind that letter would find us. I looked over my shoulder and slept light, trying to keep myself safe after reading some of the disgusting things that letter had in it. And once again, the monster had found us. Found my vulnerable mother. My eyes scanned the note again as my hand began to tremble. Was this really happening? Had someone really been attempting to track us down? The facility's number one goal was the safety, security, and anonymity of their patients beyond what they were forced to provide. And because they were a privately run institution, the information they had to fork over wasn't much. Even though the woman reassured me my mother would be safe, I still found myself swirling with panic. Halfway around the world and I had no way to check in on her. No one to drop in on her. No way to keep track of what was happening with regard to her. And the worst part of it was I had to pretend to be a happy-go-lucky fiancée at some idiotic business dinner full of billionaires in a little over four hours. Sometimes, my job sucked.

SIMOUN'S POV She looked like an angel dressed in her designer white gown. The second she came walking out of her room with her beautiful brown hair piled high on her head, I couldn't take my eyes off her. The silken fabric of her dress flowed around her body, hugging her in places that beckoned for the swell of my muscles. I wanted her so much, I was almost afraid to touch her, afraid to smudge part of myself onto her white gown and forever soil her. Her heels clicked against the marbled floors as she held her perfectly patterned clutch in her hand, and those crimson red lips of hers were quickly becoming somewhat of a trademark of hers. "Ready?" I asked. "After you, hon" I had to mentally talk myself down off the ledge. As the two of us waited for the elevator to open in the penthouse, I had to physically jam my hands into my pockets to keep from tossing her against the wall and smudging that lipstick all over my cock. Ever since she'd stepped onto that plane, I'd been obsessed with her. The way she looked, the way she smiled, her scent, all of it, swirling around me in a salacious dance of want and lust. Stepping into the elevator with her was pure and utter torture. Standing so close to her with that light perfume of hers tainting her skin made me want to take a bite out of her curves. She was a drug. And I was her willing host. We made our way to the car in silence, and I forced myself to focus on the job at hand. I had to escort my "escort" to dinner. We had to put on a face. Play a game. Dance around one another and put on an act. None of it was real, and none of it came with any perks I needed to indulge. My focus had to be on one thing and one thing only: sealing the deal with Onel Satoh. But my cock wanted to seal the deal with Amber. I expected some sort of reaction out of her when we walked into the restaurant-some sort of awe that would rush over her face. I planted my hand onto the small of her back and felt her warmth penetrating the fabric of the dress. But instead of having to speak with her lowly about keeping her shock and awe to herself, Amber slipped into a role that left me wondering exactly who she was and where she had come from. Because she didn't seem uneasy at all. In fact, she seemed more at ease with the scenario than I did. "Mr. Cardenas! Welcome to my part of the world." Onel got out of his chair and came at me with his arms outstretched. I slipped my hand away from Amber's back and clapped the man tightly. I didn't usually hug my prospective clients and partners, but for a traditionalist, Onel really enjoyed the intimate interaction. He always held me a little too long and breathed on me a little too heavily. But it was par for the course with him. Signing him on for a multimillion-dollar contract was worth whatever hoops I had to jump through in order to get him there. But he really was a character. "And this must be your lovely fiancée," he said. "Amber soon-to-be Cardenass," she said with a smile. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Satoh." "You have fine taste in fiancées," Onel said. "And I have fine taste in men," she said. "Shall we sit and get some food?" I asked. "Allow me," Onel said. He pulled out Amber's chair, and she sat with her back straight and her head held high. It was as if she was bred for this kind of role. I sat down beside her and slipped my arm around her chair, pulling her just the slightest bit toward me. Every little interaction between the two of us had to look genuine, from eye contact all the way down to constantly having her as close as I could get her. Which wouldn't be an issue. I wanted her to close I could slip my body into hers. Onel was a very old-world aristocrat whose ideals fancied someone out of the 1930s. He was happily stuck in the past despite his advisors insisting he diversify his accounts and take on modern-day investments. That was what I was attempting to get him to do: invest in my company, take a small slice for himself, and urge him into the twenty-first century while furthering my own financial gain. But dealing with someone like Onel meant playing a game of chess, not checkers. With his gray hair, rosy red cheeks, and very round stomach, he boasted of an arrogance that was shrouded in the niceties men bestowed upon people around them on a daily basis. But Amber didn't flinch one ounce. The three of us were not alone at dinner, despite what I imagined. Onel was surrounded by four of his friends, people he trusted more than anything else. And it felt as if I was sitting in front of a firing squad. I expected Onel's wife, possibly. But not people who looked eager to rake Amber and me over the coals. "So, Amber. Where are you from?" one of them asked. "Born and raised in Philippines," she said. "How long have you and Simoun been together now?" another asked. "About three years, give or take. Honestly? Some months seem much longer than others," she said. A chuckle permeated across the table, but I became nervous. I didn't think about a cover story between the two of us. I didn't think about the fact that people would question the Philippines couple on their life together. Shit. What kind of idiot was I? Yet another reason why Amber was a poor choice in the long run. I wasn't thinking about the simplest of things. "I don't care about any of that," Onel said. "I want to hear how the two of you met. Simoun? I always enjoy the man's perspective. It's always so different from the woman's." Amber looked over at me with a kind stare, but I felt like I had swallowed my tongue. How did we meet? What the fuck was I supposed to say to that question? "Well, it's sort of an intricate story," I said. "But the gist of it is I saw her and knew I had to have her. The moment I saw her, I knew she was the one for me. Even if she didn't know it at the time." "See? That's a true man," Onel said. "Take note, everyone. Because a true man knows what he wants the second he sees it. I knew I saw something in you." "I appreciate the compliment," I said. "Where did you two meet?" one of his friends asked. "We, uh... well. Initially?" I asked. "Simoun, don't be so embarrassed," Amber said. She slid her hand along my knee and squeezed before she took the reins of the conversation. And I was glad for it. Because I sure as hell wasn't adept to lying on the fly. In fact, I made it a paramount requirement to never lie to those I wanted to do business with. Fuck. What had I gotten myself into? "It's really nothing fancy," Amber said. "Contrary to what Simoun shows, he's really a romantic man. He wants to have that story where he saw me across the street before running up to me and taking me in his arms, but the truth is we met in a jewelry store." "That sounds romantic," Onel said. "How is that not romantic?" "The only reason he noticed me was because I tripped over my own two feet and went crashing against the display case," she said with a giggle. "Oh my gosh, were you hurt?" one of his friends asked. "Only my pride," Amber said. "I caught myself, but not before I knocked my elbow against the case. I was bleeding all over myself by the time Simoun got to me. Cleaned me right up in the middle of the jewelry store." "A knight in shining armor is always a romantic story waiting to be told," Onel said. "Trust me, it gets better," she said with a smile. "He took me out to his car because he said he had a first aid kit there. You know, Band-Aids and stuff. And before I knew it, I had a napkin pressed to my elbow and we were riding back to his place in order to find something to ease the pain." "You sly dog, you," Onel said with a grin. "He was an absolute gentleman," Amber said. "Despite the fun we might have had." She tossed me a playful wink as another chuckle ricocheted among the crowd around us. I had been so entranced with her story that even I started to believe it had been true. Her kind smile settled me down a little bit and eased me into the evening, and I couldn't help but feel like she was coaching me instead of the other way around. Who the hell was this woman? "Well, despite the two of you meeting in a jewelry store, you are woefully lacking in jewels, Miss Amber." "I don't see your engagement ring?" someone asked. I felt myself tense again, and Amber squeezed my knee. "I'm not comfortable traveling with a lot of my jewelry. Simoun took me to Hawaii a little over a year ago, and some of my jewelry was stolen in between the flight and the arrival to our private cabana. I've been wary about it ever since. I'm thinking about purchasing a small rose gold wedding band to wear on my finger whenever I do travel because I feel so naked without it." "See, this is why I keep some of the royal jewelry that was passed to myself under lock and key," Onel said. "There are greedy people in this world that believe they are entitled to the possessions of others, and I can't stand it. The jewelry that was handed down to me has been in my family for ages, and the idea of someone taking it from me makes my heart rate shoot through the roof!" He went on and on about some stupid rubies or whatever it was he had sitting in a vault somewhere, but my focus was no longer on him. It was on the woman next to me-the woman who had just saved my ass in the middle of the most important dinner of my career. She was charming, elegant, and completely in her element. And my hand fell to hers on my knee before wrapping around it. She looked over at me and smiled, her hazel eyes sparkling underneath the lighting of the decadent restaurant. And for a split second, I wondered what life would be like if our engagement wasn't pretend.