ELEVEN

F lower

Slathering the soft butter on a yeasty smelling roll so decadent I almost moan when I bite into it, I allow myself a brief smile. No one has to make me eat this bit of heaven. It is delicious. I wonder at the food. The menu is flame-grilled Kobe medallions, fingerling potatoes, arugula, pecan and beet salad.

Just knowing I have something hidden away to lift the cloud of stress and anxiety makes me almost giddy. And there's wine. An heirloom vintage of some Keyan provincial that costs nearly fifty thousand a bottle with a rich bouquet. Nice. He's selected very nice wine for the person he hates.

Shrugging one shoulder I take a sip. Not too much. I need my head clear.

A dark shadow crosses over my view of the bright stars above and the blackened abyss below. I shiver watching as he eases into chair opposite of me. He's more than fifteen minutes late. He's never late. He finds it disrespectful no matter the level of worker. For him to be tardy and not bow in apology really says it all. I ignore him drinking a little deeper than I intended. I won't let him rattle me. I promise myself. Grabbing another roll.

I can feel his eyes raking over me as I don't acknowledge him in the way he expects, smoothing more butter and biting into the roll. Well, he won't touch me out here. He's never hurt me. Even when he shook me, he didn't hurt me. He stopped himself. He promised he may kill you when he has no more use for you, dummy. That mean, pragmatic voice hisses.

I notice the tremble in my hand, I place the remains of the bread on the plate and placing my hand in my lap trying to squeeze the fear out.

I smell his cologne but there is also a sweeter more feminine scent wafting around him. Stiffening I sit up straighter. Why do I smell a woman's perfume? It's not vanilla rose. He had my favorite scent removed from my room, including my candles. Yet here he sits looking impeccable and gorgeous reeking of another woman.

My hand creeps up to my neck. He dares be so blatant.

"No greeting Flower?" He regards me with a cold, impassive gaze.

"No bow, Akchiro?" Throwing in the ‘ok' sign in greeting just to make him mad. His jaw firms, yet he remains silent because an attendant shows up with his whiskey.

"Leave the bottle," he tells the young man after he presents and pours the liquid in the cut crystal, his eyes never wavering from mine.

Watching his strong hand grasp the glass of deep amber, bringing it to his lips, I swallow right along with him when he takes a sip. The way his throat works makes me want to run my tongue along the column of his neck, biting and sucking my way back down. Still hating him the whole time, too. I hate myself for even thinking it. Ugh.

Looking at him now. I realize I can never be as angry as he is. He is livid. The very sight of me infuriates him. I imagine while I dream of our old life, his is quite the opposite. He probably longs to throw me be overboard.

He raises his hand and soon the table is filled with our food. Normally, when we have a chance to eat together or I've waited up for him, I'm regaling him about Asa's antics all day. Now, we eat in silence. Not even giving one another the courtesy of a glance.

Pain lances through me hard and sharp. My nose stings. The melt-in-your-mouth beef might as well be a chunk of concrete. I take another sip of wine.

"May I ask how Asa is doing?" I keep my words soft and nonconfrontational.

"No." The word is sharp, cold, final. He doesn't even bother to look my way. Moments pass as I just sit there staring at him. A myriad of emotions rips through me. The main one being fury. He is such a mean motherfucker.

"Eat." He demands waving the fork tins in my direction dismissively.

"Why? So I can get fattened up enough for you to breed me?" My raised voice draws his gaze, a quirked eye-brown, a bemused expression.

"Indeed. You are mine to do with as I will. Breed, debase, punish, and anything else I desire. You will submit." He pointedly looks at me and snarls, "Taberu."

"Fuck you," I say through clenched teeth leaning forward throwing down my fork refusing him.

"You shall as soon as we are done here," he says in a vicious tone.

I sit back like I'm chastened. Picking back up my fork, I take a bite of the beef. It's delicious. I almost mourn the rest when I swipe all the dishes from the table and toss my red wine in his smug, fucking, face then throw the glass at him.

His reflexes are quick. He moves at the right moment, allowing the glass to fly past him, splintering on the deck just behind him.

He gets up and all but snatches me across the table. He hauls me over across his lap making me face the deck. "Bad girls get punished, Flower,"

he murmurs pulling my dress up. The coolness of the night breeze is jolt to the reality of my situation —my powerlessness. He tugs. My panties are ripped.

"Why's your seat so wet, Flower?" he taunts. In my periphery I can see him stuff them in his pocket.

The first smack stings and is loud in the quiet of the night. It is a true punishment. Smack after smack he lays into my backside. I bite my lip until it bleeds. His hand is hard, firm, unforgiving.

My body is torn between pain and pleasure. Arousal blossoms between my legs along with a rage matching what we both are feeling. He is relentless. I squeeze my legs so tight. Over the years he's taught me to like his discipline; to crave it. My pussy is throbbing from the pounding of his hand on my body, ricocheting through me like he's fucking me. I need to come so bad. I feel so close. He knows my body so well. He knows he can spank me to orgasm and that's why right when I'm a smack away he stops.

"Bad bitches don't get to come." He shoves me down to his feet.

My body shudders from the deprivation. I'm literally weeping. His leg is right there. Leaning over I bite his calve for no other reason than to relieve the pressure.

After a moment he pulls me back by my hair he's wrapping it around his fist.

"We don't bite, little slut." Chiding, he wipes my tears with his thumb. Everything about him is cruel. Holding my gaze, he licks them. "So fucking sweet."

"You will stay there and eat your dessert." Lifting my tear-stained face, I watch him raise his hand. Mortification lashes me, realizing the spectacle I've caused. The waiter discretely comes to Akchiro's opposite side this time, thank goodness.

He sits down the dessert I can't see from here and pours Akchiro more whiskey. Once he leaves, Akchiro begins to eat the dessert which he's doing out of spite. He doesn't even like chocolate or sweets for that matter. Indulging in them on special occasions is the most he does. I guess he considers this one. The chocolate teases my senses, the aroma causing my barely full tummy to rumble. So much for not hurting myself to prove a point to him.

After a seemingly endless amount of time, he reaches down holding the fork in front of my lips. It smells delicious it looks delicious. I promise if it wasn't my favorite German chocolate cake. I would have spit it back out.

"It tastes just like my mom's," I whisper more to myself than to him.

"It is your mom's," he informs me cuttingly.

My heart plummets at how worried she must be.

"Why? How?" I look up into the black abyss of his eyes. They hold more than fury, more than anger. Stone cold, hatred shines through. I will never be able to match his animosity. He is a sharply honed katana slicing through me without mercy. First my son, kidnapping my friends and now he's gotten to my mom.

"I told her everything. I went to New York, fell before your parents begging them to tell me where you were. I apologized to them for my part."

Oh damn. How humiliating it must have been for him. Still, he shouldn't have lied by omission or commission, he did both. He kept this terrible secret for almost two years and had me skipping through the daisies thinking everything was fine while he held an innocent young woman prison.

"After a lengthy discussion with your parents. She told me that when I found you and brought you home, she'd make your favorite German chocolate cake. She sent the recipe instead when I let her know I'd found you and Asa."

I don't realize I have dropped my head to my chest in shame until firm fingers lift my chin up to his deadened gaze.

"More?" He has the fork poised right before my lips. "It's quite good."

Yeah, and I don't trust it. Just like I don't trust he gave mommy and daddy the full story.

"No thank you." Shaking my head, I try to dislodge his hand from my face. Everything hardens. His face could be chiseled from jade and his fingers now feel like a band of steel.

"Up." He tugs along with the words making me rise. The moment I do I feel the breeze against my exposed thighs and pussy.

"Sit." He's eases back in his chair and there is no doubt where he wants me. I sit on his thigh immediately feeling the huge bulge beneath my bottom. It's hot and hard, not the least bit comfortable. I squirm.

In quick movements he repositions me, so I am sitting firmly on his dick. He's pressed so deeply against me; he's breached my entrance. I can feel the heat and throb of him through his slacks. I know he'd not unaffected, but he seems unbothered as he brings the food to my mouth. He doesn't say eat this time. He doesn't have to. The pressure on my body, the sheer menace emanating from him is enough to get me to open my mouth.

I take another bite, another, several more after. All that rich decadence soothes me as it always has. My favorite dessert crafted from my mom's recipe would have been a great gift of reconciliation, but I know we are long past that.

I hate to look at him and see the smug satisfaction in his eyes. I can feel his eyes on me. His gaze is eating me up. Every inch of me. I can hide nothing. I am open, vulnerable.

"How did you get my mom to send you her prized German chocolate cake recipe?" There's more to the story he's not telling me. I may be under duress, sad and angry but I not confused or disoriented. I know there is more.

I wait and on cue the monster emerges.

"I told your family and my mother when I found you, you were in the throes of a horrible nightmare. When I awakened you, you went into a fugue state, then fell ill with a fever. I told them we are taking a cruise around the Mediterranean and working on our marriage. All of which is true." Cold dread creeps from my ankles to scalp at his words. They would totally believe him. I was so fragile after losing our baby. I was severely depressed basically existing like a ghost. My family feared for my life for many reasons. My mental health was very fragile back then. Therapy helped me to understand that it wasn't my fault but the guilt remains.

"We are not working on shit, Akchiro." The hardness in my voice surprises both of us. I have never spoken to him like this.

"Hai." Bowing his head, a little to acknowledge my words. He goes on like my outburst doesn't bother him in the least. "That is past us now. You chose to fuck me, drug me, leave me, and steal my son." Savage, low words make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up like prey. "I gave face to your parents, brothers, their wives. Our friends. Now, I shall have yours."

Caught in the obsidian of his gaze I know he means it. I wish I had wine. I take the tumbler of amber liquid and bring it to my lips. Taking my time to sip. I savor the bouquet, allowing the burn to slide down my throat marrying with the chocolate. A bittersweet union much like this marriage.

With careful hands I return the cut crystal to the table. "I will not comply to your demands."

"You will if you ever want to hear anything about or see Asa again. For every time you submit you shall be allowed to see him and receive a daily report."

I jolt. If not for his firm hold, I would have plummeted to the deck. It's not far fall but it will hurt. I don't bother to beg or plead. I just look at him like the cruel motherfucker he is.

"You are hurting him just as much as I did." Biting down on my lip, I fail to keep shame from voice.

"No, you are. If you are okay having your child cry for you because he wants to see his mommy then so be it. I've consulted the therapist but not even her bright ideas would soothe him tonight," his voice holds a new anguish. He stands making me stand along with him.

Immediately, I step back putting distance between us. I search his face looking for an ounce of softness and seeing none. Still, I try. "This is not fair to Asa." He probably doesn't like you reeking of someone other than his mommy, bitch. I want to scream at him so bad but wouldn't dare give him the satisfaction.

He closes the gap. I have to arch my head to meet his stare. "No, it is not. Nor was kidnapping him in the first fucking place. You're acting like some battered woman, running halfway across the world. Hiding like a coward instead of facing the man you claim you love." The last part breaks and he makes a gesture, turning away breathing deep long breaths for several moments. "You call me a monster. How the fuck are your actions anything but monstrous?"

He swings back around. "Unlike you I won't remove our son completely away from your life. Every time you ‘comply' as you put it, you get to see him. If you don't you won't."

He waves his hand in front of me and walks me back to my suite.

He presses a long finger into a scanner and the door clicks open.

I don't bother saying goodnight or thank you for a lovely evening because what the fuck?

Stepping just inside the room's gekan, I slip off my shoes. Looking up from the little bench, I see he's paused at the entrance looking down at his phone.

He looks up, his hard gaze giving way to something more— so much more. Something heated, dark, very dangerous.

"Ito Sensai texted saying you're in your fertile window."

My mouth forms into a shocked, ‘O'. I have no words.

"Would you like to see Asa tomorrow?"