Prickly Romance: Single Dad AMBW (Billionaire Dads)

SAZUKI

“You do realize that my background is in martial arts? I am not a spy, Ryotaro.”

I adjust my ear buds and respond to Akira, “I will take this to mean you have not found the owner of the car yet.”

“You gave me a partial license plate number,” she hisses.

I thought I had memorized it all. Perhaps Dejonae was right. I am getting old.

Akira sighs on the other end of the line. “Why am I looking for the driver of that car anyway?”

I glance at Niko in the backseat. She is drilling a hole into the screen behind my chair, watching every movement of my lips.

“I will tell you later.”

After hanging up with Akira, I pull the car to the side. Niko scoots to the front seat and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

“Remember what we spoke about, Niko,” I sign.

She nods soberly.

After last night’s scare, I treated everyone to ice cream as per Dejonae’s request. But when we got home, I sat Niko down and gave her a firm talking to about being more aware of her environment. I believe she will not be running into the street after balloons again.

Checking that my daughter gets into the school building safely, I then drive to Dejonae’s university and send her a text.

Sazuki: Where are you?

Dejonae: Why are you asking?

Sazuki: Are you already in class?

Dejonae: I’m walking there now. Why?

I peer through the windshield and see her limping down the path. Her head is down and tucked toward her cell phone. I climb out of the car and the sound of the door slamming prompts her to lift her head. The moment she sees me, she freezes in place.

Though I did not expect her to be welcoming, I am not prepared for the dismay that crosses her pretty face.

Does she dislike me so much?

I march toward her. The wind picks up, grabbing fistfuls of her honey-tinged curls and throwing them over her gold-dusted cheeks. Today, she is wearing another dress. This one is sleeveless and clings to her shapely form.

My eyes thirstily soak in her curves before I drag my gaze back to her face. Her mouth is pursed as I approach. The pressure of my gaze increases when her tongue darts out to nervously lick her lips.

My entire being longs to capture that mouth of hers until I know exactly what her tongue feels like against my own.

But I inhale a deep breath and wrestle those thoughts away.

“What are you doing here?” Dejonae hisses.

Again, I get the feeling that she is not pleased to see me.

“Is there somewhere private we can go?”

Her eyes widen and a tinge of alarm lights in them before she wipes it clean. “P-private? Why do you need to speak to me in private? What’s so urgent that it can’t wait until I go to work?”

I pin my lips together, saying nothing.

“Is this about yesterday? Is Niko okay? Did she get hurt?”

“Niko is fine. Thanks to you.”

Her eyes dart away. “Don’t thank me.”

“You saved her.”

“She never would have been put in that situation if I had been more attentive.” Squaring her shoulders, Dejonae looks me right in the eyes. “I’m sorry that I put her in danger.”

This woman.

I recall the moment I walked out of the bowling alley and saw Dejonae fling herself in front of an oncoming truck to protect my child. She saved my daughter.

I owe her my life.

Stretching my hand forward, I curl a finger under Dejonae’s chin. “I do not want your apology.”

Lightning flares between us, lured closer by the hopeful look in Dejonae’s enchanting brown eyes.

In that moment, I realize how trapped I am in her.

It feels as though someone put me under a spell. The deepest hypnosis.

And I have no wish to wake up.

The sound of footsteps causes Dejonae to stiffen. Shooting a terrified look over my shoulder, she grabs my hand and drags me around the side of the building. Plastering her body against mine, she flattens us both into the wall.

“Why are we hiding?”

“Sh.” She places a finger to her lips and buries her head in my chest. A protective surge, that had only been activated for my mother and my daughter, awakens in my chest.

This odd sensation is beyond me. Terrifying, really. I am always steady, always certain of my next move. Yet here I am, feeling like I have lost my mind, as a woman who can’t even reach my chest has me backed up against the wall. I have never felt so out of control in my life.

“Is she gone?” Dejonae whispers.

She is so small. So soft. So fragile.

A fresh-faced beauty with the power to bring any man to his knees.

Her fingers go slack on my shoulder when she sees me staring at her. Her mouth falls open slightly.

I bite back a groan.

That mouth.

Capable of trading insults and whispering my name.

Brown lips so ripe for the taking.

What would she taste like? Brown sugar? Gold rum? Something more addictive?

Her eyelashes flutter up and down, filling all my senses with desire. I settle my hand around her waist to press her closer.

Can she feel the way my heart is beating against my chest?

Does she feel this connection too?

I brush my nose in her hair, inhaling the scent of coconut oil and some other, fruity product.

“Uh, I think she’s gone.” Dejonae steps back.

“Who was that?” I ask darkly.

“Taylor.” Her voice holds a hint of disgust. “If she saw us together, it would be game over.”

“Game over?”

“She thinks I’m your drug dealer.” Dejonae rolls her eyes in a way that Niko will probably learn to do when she is older. “Or that I have something over you. Whatever. She’s annoying and I’d rather not deal with her right now.”

“Mm.” I spot a bench nestled in the shadows of the building. Given how secluded it is, I can see it being used by campus couples, sneaking away for a moment together.

This will do.

“Sit.” I jut my chin at the bench.

Dejonae narrows her eyes at me. “Why?”

“Must everything be a fight with you?”

“If you’re the one hurling instructions? Yes.” She tilts her head sassily.

I smile for a beat, but quickly coach my face into a scolding look. “The sooner you sit, the faster I will be gone.”

She remains standing.

I walk a few paces away. “Perhaps I should attend your class with you. Mr. Howel has been eagerly awaiting a collaboration.”

Dejonae lunges for my hand and holds on. “I’ll sit.”

I smile while my face is turned away. By the time I spin around, she is already seated on the bench. Her brown eyes dart between mine, apprehensive and searching.

“You do not need to be so nervous,” I say.

“You’re being quiet and secretive.”

“I am always quiet.”

“Yes, but this is different. I can feel you… planning something.” She juts her chin at me. “What’s in the bag?”

“I know what I want as reward,” I say, not answering her question.

“What?”

“May I lift your dress?”

She sucks in a shaky breath. If she had not been seated, her knees might have given out.

I slide the strap of my bag down my shoulder and open the flap to reveal the first aid kit inside. Her eyes widen. I crouch to one knee, letting my trousers sink into the ground. Moving like this causes my cell phone to bunch in my pocket. I pull it out and hand it to Dejonae to keep her hands occupied.

Next, I set the box on the bench beside her. The kit makes a soft click as I unsnap the lid and reveal the medicine I brought from home.

“You probably did not care for your wound yesterday,” I say in a lightly scolding voice.

“I…”

My eyes dart up and I hit her with a stern gaze. “You should have let me take you to the hospital.”

“That would have been too much of a fuss,” she mumbles.

I stare at her for a long while before looking down at her dress. “Is that the only reason?”

“I… didn’t want Niko to feel like what she’d done was a big deal.”

“But it was a big deal,” I murmur. My fingers slide along the smooth edge of her hem. The fabric is cotton and soft to the touch.

“She’s a child. She’s bound to make mistakes. It’s called ‘growing up’.”

“Other children can make mistakes and walk away from them. Niko is different. She cannot.” I begin to roll up Dejonae’s dress.

Heat burns the back of my neck. Undressing her feels too intimate. Too much like the dreams I have had lately. I am breathing hard by the time I roll her skirt halfway to her knees. When I glance up, she looks almost shaken, her face flushed and her eyes glinting.

I keep talking to keep us both distracted. “Brushing issues under the rug and smothering Niko in love might be your way of doing things. But it is my job to prepare her for the dangers of the world.”

“You don’t think the world will teach her that lesson by itself?” she argues.

Gone is the dewy-eyed girl who makes me forget about our age difference, our cultural differences and the fact that she is, currently, my employee. In its place is the Dejonae who will fight passionately for what she believes in.

Why do I find her more irresistible when her eyes turn sharp and her voice turns vehement?

I successfully roll her skirt above her knee. There are several bruises on her foot and a long scrape on her right leg. As I observe, my hand brushes her upper thigh unintentionally and we both suck in a sharp breath.

Her eyes get hazy. She bites down into her bottom lip and I watch her teeth skim the center.

Focus, Ryotaro.

I am not here to fall under Miss Dejonae’s spell. Between the two of us, I am older. I am her boss. And it is up to me to keep my senses intact.

My voice is firm when I say, “Niko’s inability to hear makes her susceptible to danger. Would you rather she learn lessons the hard way or the easy way?”

“You think your way is the easy way?” She arches a brow.

I take out the antibacterial ointment and unscrew the wand at the top. “I think she should walk into the world with her eyes wide open.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t prepare her. But there’s a limit to how much you can do. I’ve watched my sister navigate in places that have no idea how to accommodate her. I’ve watched her stand tall against obstacles my parents could not even imagine.” Her eyes flicker with pain.

I stop smearing the medicine immediately. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s okay. I can bear it.” She digs her fingers under the bench.

Rather than offer her assurances, I present another argument to distract her. “Do you propose then that I simply tell Niko nothing? Coddle her to the point of paralyzing her? Give her the false impression that there will always be someone to help? Always be someone to take care of her? This is not the truth.”

“As long as you’re alive, it is the truth. She should know that there’s a place she can come back to that will always feel safe. That won’t pressure her or hold her mistakes against her. Somewhere she can run and hide when it feels like her back is against the wall.”

“That has not been my experience.”

“Even if it hasn’t been your experience, it doesn’t have to be hers.”

She stares frankly at me, her eyes revealing everything she feels. She’s as transparent as a book. As bold as she is unguarded.

Without warning, Dejonae swoops down. Her nose stops directly on top of mine.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she mutters.

I feel my throat bob.

With her this close, I’m once again reminded of how idiotic I am to think that I can resist her.

Her presence means something.

Her words.

Her challenges.

Her smile.

The needy feeling in my chest eclipses my good sense. It drags me toward her lips as if I am a comet on a trajectory to earth.

And when she bends toward me too, her full lips parting, easing ever closer to mine, I—

My phone rings.

Dejonae’s eyes drop to the screen and her entire body stiffens.

I look down too.

Niko’s Mother.

The sudden pang in my chest takes me by surprise.

“I will answer it later,” I say.

“You should answer it now. It might be important.” Her voice is dry. Her face, pointedly blank. My fingers are still on the band-aid I was about to place on her. She plucks it from me and applies it herself.

“Is there anywhere else that needs attention?” I ask almost desperately.

“No.” She rolls her dress back down and pins her legs together.

I feel her reorienting, clearing aside all the interest that had risen to the surface just a moment before. Gone is the prickly awareness that refuses to be denied whenever we share the same space and breathe the same air.

Now, there’s an icy distance. A clear and abject rejection.

“Mr. Sazuki, I have class now. If you don’t need anything else…”

I stagger to my feet slowly. My gut churns.

Dejonae does not spare me a second glance. Fingers twisting her purse strap, she hurries past me and turns the bend. I see her fast-walking up the path that leads to her music lecture hall.

My phone keeps ringing.

I suck in a deep breath and put it to my ear. “Ashanti.”

“Why didn’t you call me, Ryo?”

“Call you? For what?” I ask, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

“You know I spoke to Niko last night.”

I did. They speak every night.

“And you know Niko told me about what happened at the bowling alley,” Ashanti adds. “So then, you know I’d be extremely concerned and want to discuss why some stranger almost got my baby killed.”

“Dejonae put her life on the line to save Niko.”

“A sacrifice she wouldn’t have made if she hadn’t been involved in the first place!”

Annoyed and trying my hardest not to be, I keep my voice still. “Ashanti, you were not there last night. I am sure Niko told you that she was the one who ran into the road, knowing that she shouldn’t. If Dejonae had not acted as fast as she did…”

“Ryo, our daughter has never tried anything so impulsive. Where did she learn to do something like that?”

“She is a child.”

“Exactly. She’s susceptible to bad influences.”

“Ashanti, what do you wish to hear from me?”

“I don’t want my child around someone so careless, Ryo.”

“You do not know Dejonae. You do not have a right to judge her,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I don’t have a right? I am Niko’s mother!”

“Yes, but you are not here.”

A long beat of silence passes.

“Well, maybe I should be.”

“Ashanti—”

The call ends abruptly.

She is gone.

Unsettled by the morning’s events, I throw myself into meetings with the admin team. That keeps me occupied until Dejonae stomps into the foundation after her class. She does not take a seat at her desk. Instead, she pulls some files from the center, tucks it under her arm and plods to the elevator.

I do not chase her.

Until I sort through what I feel for her and what it will mean if I pursue those feelings, I will give her space.

My computer pings with a new alert.

An email update from Adam.

I browse through the data and start to click away when I remember Dejonae’s words.

‘Why don’t you reply? A simple acknowledgement can go a long way.’

Clearing my throat, I tap the reply button.

Thank you, Adam. Received.

“Can something that small really make a difference?” I muse. With a shrug, I move on to another file.

My phone rings.

The moment I pick up, Adam’s voice blasts in my ear, “Sneeze twice if you need me to call the police.”

I sit in stunned silence.

“Come on, Sazuki. Have you been taken hostage or what?”

“You must have a lot of time to waste today,” I say, clicking to a data spreadsheet.

“You replied to an email.”

“And?” I mutter.

“You never reply to emails.”

“That alone warranted a call?”

“I spoke to Nova about it. She agreed that if someone randomly changes their bad habits, they’re probably about to die.”

I chuckle. “Change does not always mean death.”

“No, but a drastic change out of nowhere? That has a deeper cause. People tend to only realize what’s important when it’s too late.”

His words strike me. I take a moment to absorb them.

“Since I have you on the line, Sazuki, there’s another matter I wanted to discuss. It’s about the MTB’s batteries.”

We go back and forth about the details, battling the pros and cons of rechargeable batteries versus removable batteries.

“We will use the removable batteries then,” I say finally.

“Done.” Adam coughs. “Speaking of, I’m ready for Dejonae to come and check out the tweaks I made to the MTB. Since it’s inspired by her input, I think she deserves to see it first.”

“I will send her an email.”

“An email? Isn’t she working with you?”

My eyes slide to the glass windows. Through the blinds, I see that Dejonae’s desk is still empty.

“I will let her know.”

There’s a knock on the door.

Akira pokes her head through.

I hang up with Adam and face her. “Did you get the information on the license plate number?”

“I did.” She slides a folder over to me. “Now will you tell me what this is about?”

“Niko was almost run over. I would like to find the driver who was so careless that he did not slow down when he saw a little girl in his path.”

Akira’s eyes widen. “When did this happen?”

“Last night.” I flip through the pages.

“Last night?” she murmurs. “Was it during your appointment with Miss Williams?”

“It was.”

Her lips go taut.

“Before you say anything both you and I will regret,” I murmur, keeping my eyes on the file, “the reason Niko is unharmed is because Dejonae rushed into the street and pushed her out of the car’s way.”

Akira says nothing for a long moment.

I glance up and find her studying me.

She frowns. “You have gone soft for her.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Will you really not deny it?” she asks breathlessly.

What would be the point?

“I will admit that Miss Williams and Niko seem to have a sincere connection. Of course, you may find it heart-warming. Any father would think favorably of the girl who his daughter adores. It does not mean you have feelings for her.”

“What else could it mean?” I glance up impatiently.

“Loneliness.” She waves a hand. “You are accomplished, wealthy and handsome. People who lack in all three of those categories have someone and you do not. It is only natural that you feel the loss.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Gratitude,” Akira continues. “She saved Niko’s life. You can gift her a house. A car. Send a fruit basket to her family. The Sazuki family repays all debts. Once you fulfil your obligations to her, you will not be so attached.”

“You think I do not know my own heart?” I snap.

“I think,” she says slowly, “that you were moved, yes. But feelings waver. There is no need to give her your heart.”

“Who says I gave it to her?” I challenge.

Akira looks blankly at me.

“I do not believe I had a choice in the matter, Akira.” My eyes skitter to Dejonae’s desk again.

“Ryotaro,” Akira urgently approaches my desk, “you have been down this road before. The last time, it did not end well.”

“Ashanti and I did not divorce because she was a foreigner. Nor because of my family.”

“Do you really believe that?” Akira’s eyes dart between mine. “If you had secured the approval of the family, would they not have rallied around you? Would they not have done everything to make her feel at home and welcome? Would they not have encouraged her to come back? They did not. They rejoiced when she left. They hid it well, but they reveled in your heartbreak.”

“Are you provoking me deliberately?”

“I would not speak out of turn if it were not important.”

She is right. This is the longest scolding Akira has ever given me.

“I only want to point out the truth. Something which you seem determined to ignore. Miss Williams is not only foreign and dark-skinned, but she is much younger than you, Ryotaro. The differences between what you value, what you believe, and what you want in life simply cannot match hers because she has experienced so little. If you look beyond her beauty and her affinity for Niko, you would be able to recognize that.”

My eyes linger on Akira’s tightened brows. “Whether I choose to pursue her or not, it will be my decision.”

“You misunderstand.” Akira lowers her head. “I am not saying you cannot pursue her. If you choose to… experience the American way, you have all freedom to do so. As I mentioned, you are accomplished and wealthy. You are also a man. It is natural to feel loneliness.” She shifts in discomfort. “You are not the first Sazuki that I have worked beside. I have seen how the lures of the world can draw a young man to… experiment.”

My heart rebels. “Miss Williams is not an experiment to me.”

Akira purses her lips.

“If I, indeed, saw her as something to experience, I would not be so hesitant. It is precisely because my interest in her is deepening that it requires my careful consideration.”

“Then consider this, Ryotaro, and this is the final thing I will say about the matter.”

I nod.

“You went against the family to wed Niko’s mother and shattered your grandparent’s hearts. This time, you have Niko watching you. What if you take her new friend and turn her into something more? And what if that relationship does not work out? Then you have not only failed twice, but this time, the heart you will shatter is your child’s. Are you willing to risk that?”

Satisfied that she has delivered her final blow, Akira jerks her chin down once and stalks out of my office.

I work outside of the foundation because Dejonae’s desk is too big of a distraction for me.

At evening’s end, I pick Niko up from school.

She seems eager to discuss her day, gesturing excitedly about her invitation to the farmhouse, Bailey’s joke at recess that he shared via sign language, and Beth gifting her a ‘Hand Me That Wrench’ T-shirt.

Her hands will cramp later tonight from all the signing.

I cut up an apple to tide her over until dinner. She shoves an entire slice into her mouth and continues gesturing.

“Dad, when can I go to the farmhouse again?”

“Maybe after your mock exams,” I allow. Opening the fridge with my shoulder, I take out a pile of leftover food dishes.

I am thinking of making rice balls and corn soup. Our fridge is always filled with tsukemono thanks to Akira’s ability to pickle everything that can possibly be pickled. It will pair well with the meal.

“I can’t wait to tell mom.” Slowly, Niko’s smile fades to intense concentration. She signs, “Did mom talk to you?”

“Talk to me about what?” I ask, checking on the rice cooker. When I glance up again, Niko is waiting for me.

She signs, “Deej.”

I swallow thickly.

My daughter gestures, “I told her about what happened after bowling. She got upset.”

“Your mother isn’t upset with you,” I sign. “She is upset with me.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I rub the back of my neck. This is tricky territory. The one thing Ashanti and I promised to do after our divorce was never drag Niko into the middle of our fights. I do not wish to expose Niko to the truth, but she is too smart not to notice.

“Sometimes,” I sign hesitantly, “when adults are scared, they react with anger. Because that is an easier emotion to handle than feeling vulnerable.”

Her eyebrows knit together. She signs, “That’s dumb. Even when you stop being angry, you’ll still be scared.”

“That is true, but…” I speak out loud, “Your mother loves you very much. At the thought of losing you, her heart probably stopped.” I hit my chest.

Niko’s thoughtful look remains. She signs, “I don’t think mom likes Deej.”

The rice spatula clamors out of my hands. “Did she say that?”

Niko makes the motion for ‘feelings’. “I felt it.”

Her observational skills have always been higher than other kids her age. Which is why I did not excuse her for running into the road. She made a deliberate choice that could have cost her and Dejonae greatly.

I try to calm her fears. “Your mother hasn’t met Dejonae yet. She might feel differently if she gets to know her.”

Niko points in my direction.

“Me?”

“How do you feel about Dejonae?” she signs.

I look away, my gaze drifting past Niko to the windows and the star-studded city skyline.

Niko’s fluttering hands drag my attention back to her.

“Do you like her, dad?” she signs.

Akira’s warning about breaking Niko’s heart ricochets in my head. I answer carefully, “If I said yes, what would that mean to you?”

She scrunches her nose and twists her lips. “That’s not fair. I asked you first.”

My eyes flash with affection. I bend over and pinch her cheek. “You have a lot to say tonight. Why don’t you wash your hands and come help me with the rice balls?”

“I’ve got homework!” Niko signs. Popping out of the chair, she hurries to her room. Then her head ducks around the corner. She gives me a thumbs up. “I think it would be nice.”

“What would be nice?” I try to keep my expression neutral.

“You and Deej,” she gestures. “When Deej is around, I feel like mom is here.”

Shocked, I can only stare at her.

Niko grins again and hurries to her room. Her bedroom door slams shut, punctuating her exit.

I sink against the counter and distractedly wipe my hands against my apron. By comparing Dejonae to her mother, Niko just gave her approval.

The rice cooker beeps.

I pick up the rice spatula from the floor, rinse it in the sink and scoop the rice into a bowl. With my thoughts percolating heavily, I am not sure how I manage to prepare dinner without over-salting the corn soup.

Niko eats while watching television with the captions on and I retire to my room early.

Taking out my phone, I scroll to Dejonae’s number.

My hands shake slightly.

It has been a while since I have expressed interest in anyone. With Ashanti, it was easy. She had clearly been interested in me. Although we were different in some areas, I did not have to worry about her being younger than me or working in my foundation.

Come on, Sazuki.

I gather my courage and call Dejonae.

The line rings.

Once.

Twice.

“Hello?” Her voice is soft. Hesitant.

My heart beats a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

“Miss Williams,” I pause. Lick my lips. “Dejonae…”

“Do you need something?” Confusion seeps into her tone.

“I…” My body turns to steel, tension racing through me like a live current.

Why is it so easy for me to play for a live audience, command boardrooms, and build a music hall from the ground up, and yet asking a woman out makes me feel as though I am jumping out of a plane.

“If this is about me leaving work early today, I sincerely had a group project this time. I wasn’t lying.”

“No, that is not why I called.”

“Then?”

I say in a firm voice, “A reporter will be visiting the office tomorrow. I won’t have time to do the interview.”

“Okay. No problem. I can do it.”

My eyebrows jump at her confidence.

“Can I talk about the MTB?”

“We are starting to leak more information about the MTB, but it is not ready for mass release yet. You may hint at it if it comes up.” I clear my throat. This is not the direction I expected the conversation to go, but perhaps it is best. What I have to say to Dejonae is best delivered in person anyway.

“Understood.”

“This is the foundation’s very first interview with the public,” I remind her.

“It’ll go well. Trust me.”

“I do,” I say.

She goes quiet.

“I do trust you, Dejonae,” I whisper.

“Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

The silence goes on for so long that it becomes awkward.

Yet I cannot seem to hang up the phone.

“Is that it?”

“Yes.” I release a quick breath.

Later.

I will tell Dejonae how I feel about her when the time is right.