The Sinful Art of Revenge

Chapter THIRTEEN


REIKO THREW HERSELF into work as she never had before. Once Yoshi knew of her availability, he tossed dozens of commissions in her lap. She traipsed through dense jungles in Vietnam to retrieve a rare artefact, rode a camel for three days to deliver a painting to a Moroccan sheikh and braved the icy remnants of winter in Kazakhstan to broker a six-piece sculpture deal.

And through it all, no matter how exhausted she got, her last thought at night and first recollection in the morning was of Damion’s face after she’d dropped her bombshell.

‘You can’t have children?’

The blood had leached from his face, his whole body frozen in disbelief.

Numb, she’d shaken her head. ‘The doctors told me when I woke from the operation. One ovary had to be removed. The other is damaged beyond repair. My reproductive abilities are less than nil.’

He’d released a shocked breath. Then his lips had parted but no words had emerged. Despite her pain, her heart had gone out to him.

‘You do want children, don’t you?’

He’d grown paler before giving one grave nod.

Although she’d known the answer, Reiko had felt as if a knife had been plunged into her heart. ‘I did try to warn you not to hitch your wagon to this battered post.’

He still hadn’t moved. In fact he’d seemed to be reeling from her bombshell. Part of her had wanted to linger, to drink him in one last time. But a major part of her, the part that had been broken and bleeding, had wanted to retreat—fast.

Her fingers had cramped with the need to reach out and touch him one last time. Even in his shocked state, Damion had been so very attuned to her. He’d made a sound in his throat, then his fingers had clamped into a fist.

‘Goodbye, Damion.’

She’d hurried down the stairs before she lost her nerve. Her battered suitcase had survived the tumble. Snatching it up, she’d rushed through the door. The taxi she’d called from her room as she’d packed was waiting for her.

Her last hysterical thought as she’d been driven away was that she would never get to dance the Argentine tango with Damion …

Reiko let herself into her Kyoto flat and dumped her handbag on the nearest surface. The triple beep of her phone signalled a text. The strong desire to ignore it melted under the thought of what would happen if she gave herself too much free time.

She would end up thinking of Damion, reliving his every smile, his every word, his every touch. And the tears would start again. She, who’d claimed fierce ninja status, had taken to crying herself to sleep most nights.

Typical how your inner ninja deserts you just when you need it most …

Another message beeped. With a sigh, she checked her phone. Yoshi’s message was short and to the point.

V.V.VIP client. Commission of a lifetime.

She rolled her eyes and answered. Yoshi’s latest client, Tom Radcliffe, had taken a shine to her. Reiko knew she was the reason Radcliffe was sending so much work their way, but deep inside relief bloomed. When she was occupied with other things, she didn’t have time to think of Damion.

She hadn’t expected him to come after her—the no-children thing would always be a deal-breaker to a man of his pedigree. The Fortier lineage couldn’t end just because he lusted after her.

Pain lanced through her all the same, the force of it making her gasp out loud. She reached up and released her hair. She’d taken to wearing it up, uncaring of who saw her scars.

She was much stronger now. Because of Damion …

Another tide of misery washed over her. Taking a deep breath, she plunged her fingers through her hair and immediately remembered Damion doing the same beside his pool, his purr of male satisfaction as he’d run his fingers through the heavy mass.

Her phone beeped again. The location of the meeting made her eyes widen. Of all the places in the world … She noted the time and texted her agreement.

Then she sat and stared at her holographic goldfish, willing herself not to dissolve into tears because even they now reminded her of Damion.

Cherry blossoms in full bloom in her favourite park in Kyoto normally lifted her spirits, but Reiko couldn’t summon up an ounce of pleasure as she chose a bench and tucked her hands deep into her coat pockets. Normally she would have been intrigued by a client who chose such a venue to meet, here in her favourite place in the world, but while her heart was in tatters she didn’t much care. On cue, her eyes prickled.

For the love of—

A shadow emerged from behind a particularly stunning blossom tree. The breadth of his shoulders and the arrogance in his stride made her breath catch. She forced herself to breathe.

There was no use suffocating herself over every man whose height or walk reminded her of Damion. Forcibly, she wrenched her gaze from the figure. She couldn’t keep doing this to herself. Couldn’t …

Her gaze whipped back to the figure.

He was much closer. Close enough to see his face, his eyes, the devastatingly gorgeous cut of his jaw.

Joy slammed through her heart before she desperately wrenched it back.

‘Damion! What are you doing here?’ Her voice, feverishly breathless, squeaked from her throat.

He closed in on her and stared down into her face. ‘If you were expecting Radcliffe, I’m sorry to disappoint you.’

Her senses reeled with the reality of him. He’d invaded her thoughts day and night, asleep and awake, for weeks. And now he was in front of her …

She frowned. ‘I was expecting Yoshi. And how do you know about Tom Radcliffe?’

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘You walked away from me. I let you because I wasn’t at my best. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me, Reiko. Whatever you do, I’ll find out,’ he promised in a dark purr.

‘If that’s code for stalking, then you need serious help. And what do you mean, you let me?’

His eyes gleamed at her. ‘You belong to me, Reiko. It’s time to come back.’

Damion watched the different expressions chase over her face, following each one with his heart in his throat, his every sense readying for a fight if that was what it took.

The past three weeks had been the worst of his life. At first he’d told himself she needed time. But it had been he who’d needed it.

He’d needed to sift through the disaster zone his hitherto carefully composed emotions had become. In the end it had been simple.

His need for Reiko Kagawa trumped everything else. Everything.

‘Take a good look, Damion. There’s no collar around my neck. You don’t own me.’

‘I don’t want to own you.’ He shoved a hand through his hair and paused. ‘We belong to each other. Putting several thousands of miles between us isn’t going to change that fact.’ His jaw clenched. ‘And letting Radcliffe sniff around you isn’t going to make you forget me, either.’

A bleak look entered her beautiful eyes, cutting him to the bone. ‘It’s not that simple, Damion. You know it isn’t.’

He nodded, for a moment unable to speak around the hard thumping of his heart. ‘No, it’s not easy. But you trusted me with your darkest, most painful secret. And I messed up. I would’ve come earlier but my grandfather died—’

Her fingers flew to her lips. ‘Oh, Damion, I’m so sorry.’

His pain was evident, despite his short nod. ‘Merci. I have no right to ask you to trust me again, but I’m asking anyway. We can get through this, Reiko.’

‘There’s nothing to get through. I’ll never be able to have your children, Damion.’

Pain tore through her as she uttered the words.

His grey eyes darkened. ‘Do you want to?’

Her breath rushed out. ‘Please, Damion, don’t …’

‘Why do you want my children, Reiko?’ He was relentless. ‘I could go first and bare my soul to you right now. But I don’t want to frighten you. You mentioned my obsession with you. And you may be right. But I need you to look inside yourself, too. Tell me if what I’m feeling is so different from what you’re feeling.’

His words, thick with meaning and expectation, clawed a path of fear through her. Fear of what too much hope might do to her. But it grew, filling the numb place where her heart used to be.

‘Why do you want my children, mon amour?’

‘B … because I love you.’

Damion exhaled, long and hard, then started to move towards her. Just then two small children shrieked past, followed by their heavily pregnant mother.

Time stood still. She wasn’t aware she was crying until the chilly breeze froze her tears. Whirling with a sharp cry, she ran.

Damion called out her name but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Of course, he was much quicker than her. By the time she arrived at the park’s entrance, his SUV was waiting, the doors open. He stood beside it in silent command.

With a resigned sniff, she slid in. All the way to his penthouse, misery gripped her.

She’d told him she loved him. He’d said nothing.

‘Do you know this is the longest time we’ve been in a confined space without you touching me?’

‘What?’

‘We’ve been together for over an hour and you haven’t touched me once. Do you know how painful that feels to me?’

The low, deep words worked their way through her system to settle low in her belly. His proximity, so seductive, so touchable, made her heart ache.

He shut the door and held out his hand to her. ‘Come here, Reiko.’

‘I …’

‘I don’t want to tell you how I feel from across the room.’

‘How do you feel?’

He remained silent, his hand outstretched. Slowly she moved towards him, every fibre of her being vibrating with a tension so strong she feared she’d break in a million pieces. Where normally he’d have lunged for her, he waited for her to come to him.

Finally his hand closed on her. The touch she’d craved and cried out for in the darkness of the night finally arrived.

‘I love you, Reiko Kagawa. More than I want children. More than I want to take my next breath. Je t’aime.’

Joy burst through her, the depth of her happiness so strong her knees gave way. He caught her easily, strong arms banding around her to lift her into his body. Their kiss lasted until they both needed to draw breath.

Damion leaned his head against her. ‘I know my possessiveness frightens you. I’ll try to scale it back. I don’t know how, but I’m willing to give it a go. Just tell me if you think you’re getting overwhelmed and I’ll find a way of making it work.’

‘How?’

He looked stumped, as if he hadn’t thought of the how. And the more he thought about it, the paler he got.

‘Damion?’

‘I don’t have any answers, mon amour. All I know is that I can’t live a day without you and I pray you’ll let me be with you.’

She sighed. ‘There it is. The answer I needed.’

A puzzled frown creased his brow. ‘What?

‘To know that you don’t have all the answers. I sure as heck don’t. And I like it that way—makes for an interesting life.’ Her heart lurched as pain tugged at her happiness. ‘Damion …’

‘Before you go causing yourself more unnecessary pain, there’s something else you should know. I’ve lined up the best fertility doctors in France. If you want to, we can explore what options we have. If you prefer, we can go the adoption route.’

Her gasp echoed around the room. ‘You would do that? But your family …’

‘With my grandfather gone, I’m the last of my family. That puts me in the unique position of deciding my own destiny. And I choose you. First and always.’

‘You seriously have no idea how hot that makes you to me right now.’

‘Hot enough to get naked and sweaty with me?’ He nuzzled his way along her jaw.

‘For starters. And if you’re really, really good, I might even break out the geisha outfit for you.’ A hoarse sound escaped him and she let loose a saucy grin. ‘Does that turn you on?’

‘I’ve been without you for three weeks. My need is astronomical. So be careful what danger you put yourself in, ma petite.’ Her grimace made him grin as he skilfully divested her of her clothes. ‘You don’t like that endearment?’

‘When it draws attention to my height and stature? No.’

‘You’re perfect.’

‘I’m five-foot-two. I need stilts just to see half of what’s happening in the world.’

He sobered, his gaze intense and deep. ‘You have me now.

I’ll be your guide. No more stilts for you. I think you’ve been through enough pain for one lifetime.’

Tears filled her eyes. ‘I love you, Damion.’

‘Je t’adore aussi. And yes, I’ll teach you French.’

‘You better. I have leverage.’

‘Oh?’

She nodded. ‘That painting you picked up in Bordeaux? The Ventimiglia? It’s stolen. Interpol have been hunting it for the last six years. The rightful owners are the Busson family.’ His complete shock made her giggle. ‘Welcome to the dark side.’