Prince Albert(140)

The thing is, I am wet. Exactly like he wanted.

Chelsea sips from a cocktail. "I spoke to Mr. Ito," she says. "He wants to give you a personal tour of Tokyo."

I nod. "I'm sure the company will show all of us around."

"And here I thought you were all about Gaige," she says. "But you'll just bat those big eyes of yours and try to wrap everyone around your little finger, won't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I down the rest of my glass of champagne in one gulp, and grab another from a tray as it comes by. I don't care if Chelsea is my boss or not; I'm about to punch her right in that stupid, pinched little face.

Before I can say anything else, Gaige is by my side. "Evening, ladies." Chelsea greets him with an air kiss and the sight makes me hate her even more.

When he steps back from her, his gaze drifts slowly up the length of my body, and I flush warm. "You both look lovely," he says, but his eyes are only on me.

Gaige has this way of making me feel naked when he looks at me, so self-conscious I'm nearly squirming. Of course, I am practically naked in this dress. It's short, like so fucking short it's practically indecent, especially for a work party. I almost changed at the last minute, but Gaige's words kept echoing in my head. The short and sexy dress was a concession to the fact that I didn't do what he expressly ordered – I just couldn't bring myself to leave my bra and panties at home.

Chelsea turns to Gaige. "Akira Ito certainly seems to think Delaney looks lovely tonight."

That's it. I am going to punch her.

Gaige looks at me, his gaze intense. "Is that so?"

I smile, forcing a nonchalant tone. "He's the Japanese point of contact for your tour," I say. "He's the Vice President for Public Relations of the bike manufacturing company that's hosting you. He's offered to take us on a tour of Tokyo, personally. It's extremely kind of him."

"Oh, don't be modest, Delaney," Chelsea says, putting her hand on Gaige's arm. Gaige flinches and steps away a few inches, but it doesn't seem to deter Chelsea. "Akira is quite young, especially for someone so successful. And I'm sure he means to take Delaney on quite the personal tour of Japan."

I can feel my face redden. "That's not true," I snap.

Chelsea smiles. "Delaney, you're so modest about your accomplishments. She's so good at establishing personal relationships with clients."

Does she know about me and Gaige?

Gaige gives me a look that makes me want to melt, and I know I have to get out of here. "Excuse me," I say, turning to leave.

"Delaney," Gaige says, but Chelsea's hand is already on his arm.

"Gaige, I need you to meet Mr. Patterson," she says. "Mr. Patterson, how are you?"

I head for the bar and order a cocktail, watching Gaige as he shakes hands with the group Chelsea is introducing him to. He glances over at me, and I turn toward the bar. I'm embarrassed by Chelsea's intimations that I'm interested in Akira.

As if on cue, Akira's voice breaks through my thoughts, and I inwardly groan before plastering a smile on my face. "Akira-san," I say.

"I hope I'm not being too forward by saying that I'm very much looking forward to your visit to Japan." He holds up his beer. "Kampaii," he says. Cheers.

I smile politely. "No, of course not. Not at all," I say. "We're all looking forward to a tour."

He nods. "Yes. All of you. Of course."

"Excuse me, Ms. Marlowe." One of the catering staff, dressed in black tie, interrupts, handing me a folded slip of paper. "There's a message for you."

Akira gives me a slight bow. "I'll let you attend to what you need to, Ms. Marlowe," he says. "But I look forward to seeing you soon."

I open the note, my breath catching in my throat.

Corner of the maze in the garden. Five minutes. Don't be late.

I spin around slowly, scanning the crowd for Gaige, but he's gone. Chelsea is laughing, playfully touching the hand of some suit I don't recognize. My father and Anja are talking to a group of middle-aged businessmen or politicians.

For a second, I think I should probably just go back inside the house. I could slip away from here, away from the glad-handing and grab-assing and all of the off-the-books deals being made, and just go to bed. That would be the smart thing to do.

The not-so-smart thing to do would be the thing I'm about to do.

I slip through the crowds unnoticed, my cocktail in hand, walking past the guesthouse and down the lawn toward the garden. The estate is ridiculously huge, set on twenty acres, a lot of it wooded, but the grounds around the house are large. The garden is modeled after English gardens, but with Texas flair, of course. There's a maze in the corner made of greenery and I wander through it, almost surprised I remember the way, only making one turn that leads to a dead end before I reach him.